Honoring Transgender Awareness Week, we present a collection of diverse voices from Lyft employees. They hold such strength yet show these individuals’ willingness to be vulnerable in front of the world in order to foster understanding and help others. Their journeys may differ, but these brave people share in common the conviction and courage to live their truth.

But not everyone has the luxury of living openly. Over 60% of the transgender population report having experienced a serious act of discrimination that impacted their quality of life and ability to sustain themselves. Being out and open remains a luxury for some — which is just another reason why events like Transgender Awareness Week are so important: They raise awareness through visibility while calling to action allyship and solidarity.

Nicole Sgarlato

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a warm spring day and I was heading into San Francisco from my hometown of San Jose to interview for a job at Lyft. Now keep in mind that all of you reading this only know me as Nicole. My life was much different back then. 

For a bit of context: I had finally come out to myself as transgender only a year earlier. Most people in life knew I was transitioning, but it was still early in my transition and I lacked the confidence (and support) to live openly as a woman. I remember this being a time of peak gender dysphoria. I was so uncomfortable in my skin; I had been on hormone replacement therapy (HRT) for about six months — much too early to notice any real changes taking place. Any time I would look in the mirror I’d only catch glimpses of what I felt inside.

Transitioning is a test of patience. It takes years before you begin to see the full effects manifest in your life. And while my physical transition was slowly underway my self doubt kept me paralyzed from beginning the social aspect of my transition. Would people judge me? Would they take me seriously?

At that time everyone in my life still used my deadname (otherwise known as a birth name)  when referring to me. I was only able to present as Nicole on a rare night out when I happened to be with the friends in my life who supported me. I had also been working at my family’s business in the towing industry for over ten years. Have you ever called AAA when your car (or Lyft) broke down? I was one of those tow truck drivers who would come rescue you. I actually enjoyed what I did as I’ve always found satisfaction in helping others. But the towing industry isn’t the most friendly towards the LGBTQ community and I knew that as I progressed in my transition I would likely need to make a career change.

That time did eventually come and I applied to a few job openings with one being the position at Lyft. I also applied as a man. I was desperate to get out of my current environment and was afraid that interviewing as a transgender woman early in her transition might be seen as a liability and ultimately keep me from getting the job. It’s hard to say if that would have actually been the case, but the reality is that transgender and non-binary individuals face an unprecedented level of workplace discrimination. So on this particular day I drove up to my interview in an ill-fitting suit and tie while dreaming of the possibility of a new beginning. 

I remember getting there early and not wanting to seem too eager, so I waited at a coffeeshop  around the corner for about an hour. I fantasized about what it would be like to get the job, to work in the city like I had always dreamed of doing. I also thought long and hard about how I would handle coming out to any future employer. The thought terrified me. Would I be discriminated against if I got the job? Would I enter into a situation worse than the current one I was in? Despite these fears I knew that if I somehow got the job I was about to interview for at Lyft, it would ultimately be a starting point for my life as Nicole.

Spoiler alert: I got the job. I was ecstatic, and the minute I signed my offer letter I emailed my recruiter asking if we could chat. I had come out to dozens of people in my life already. But this one felt different. There was so much at stake, but I knew that I had to risk it as I had decided that living my truth was a non-negotiable. She called me and I remember fumbling over my words a bit before finally spitting it out: “So I’m actually transgender. I’m in the process of transitioning, my name is Nicole, and my pronouns are she/her.” I held my breath as I waited for a response. It felt like an eternity, but she replied with something along the lines of “Sounds good. I’ll make sure everything gets switched over for you and your manager knows.” I instantly felt at ease. There was no fanfare or commotion around it, which was exactly what I needed. I started work a few short weeks later, and although I was extremely nervous (my first day at Lyft was the day I started living as Nicole!) I was blown away by the relative ease my team had in accepting me. They treated me with the respect any person deserves. And it’s because of this support I have been able to live my truth and thrive while doing it.

Ravanna-Michelle E. Menendez

Sensitive. Fragile. Weak. These were all words that were used by my family and those around me to describe me as a child. My life would have been easier if I had been born into a different body. One where I would not have been reprimanded for the way I naturally walk, how high my voice is, and especially how I dress and express love to others. There’s no easy way to put it, my childhood was centered around abuse and forced suppression of my identity.

My escape was always theater. It allowed me to live in a world of imagination, where my creativity wasn’t suppressed. The characters I created and played didn’t correlate with my assigned gender. It’s where I learned to do make-up, how to dress and where I learned to believe in myself and a future undefined by fear. 

I remember the first female role I was given in a theater class. She was a leader, hardened by her past, but emboldened by the struggles the world had given her. She was determined to find her happy ending, no matter the cost. I named her Ravanna.

What was once just a character whose storyline I identified with developed into a much deeper connection and understanding with myself and my personal story. I never once felt comfortable or confident in my body when identifying as a male and never knew discomfort as strongly as I did when I was referred to in any context as male. Growing up, I often forgot that the body I was in was not female. Those around me convinced me that these thoughts were unnatural and made sure I was reprimanded when I displayed qualities of my true self. Forced suppression of one’s nature and joys is traumatic, but internalizing others’ rejection is far more damaging. It creates a hollow shell of a person and leaves them with thoughts of suicide, depression, and the haunting reoccuring question of, “Can I continue?” 

When we stop loving our trans children and suppress their existence to appease others’ biases, we risk losing them to a future that they deserve to succeed in. As we observe Trans Awareness Week, I ask that we reflect on the trans lives that have been lost to history and that we honor them by uplifting our trans youth, family and friends around us with love and a promise to never make us feel fragile or weak.

I survived. Not all of us do. 

Alec Bates

My name is Alec, and I’ve been with Lyft for two years and two months. I identify as a transgender male. Being able to share part of my journey with you all feels like an enormous privilege, so thank you for taking the time to read it! 

My mom is one of the most important people in my life. She’s the strongest and most resilient person I know. I’ve just always wanted to make her proud, but our relationship was complicated for many years, as she tried to come to terms with the person I was becoming. Like when I came out as bisexual... then gay... and then trans. She just didn’t understand, and we had to navigate that pain and confusion together. Eventually, she began to understand that I wanted to transition because of how I felt in my soul, not because of external pressure or because I was “going through a phase.” I had to give her space and time to process what she perceived as a loss, and now finally she openly refers to me, proudly, as her son. 

You have to set boundaries with people for your own protection and well-being. I tried to hold onto the belief that if someone really loves you, they’re not going to just stop because you look different. However, I know that I have been very lucky, because many trans folx lose friends and loved ones. I definitely have. 

Outside of healing the relationship with my mom, one of the biggest struggles of my transition has been giving up things that I love due to body dysphoria. I was a competitive swimmer for over a decade, and because of antiqued expectations of what a “male body looks like,” I haven’t been able to swim comfortably in years. Thankfully, this month I’m having gender affirming surgery, so I will finally get to experience swimming as my true self. Many cisgender people take for granted really simple things, like swimming in a public place. For trans folx, this can be a terrifying and dangerous experience. 

I feel so lucky to say that at this moment, I am happier with myself than I have ever been before. Lyft and all of the incredible people I’ve met here have changed my life, and my transition, for the better. Just remember, every trans person has a story that deserves and needs to be heard.

Elijah

I knew from the beginning that I was different. I knew that I felt something was a little off. Keep in mind as you read this that I was born in the mid 70's and being transgender was not something that was mainstream at all. I remember being in the 2nd grade and knowing I did not fit in quite right. My childhood was filled with situations where I felt awkward in my own skin and I developed a fear of hugging my friends because I was worried they would feel that I was different, and that they would discover my secret. 

The first memory I have of potentially understanding what was going on with my body was the first time my mom took me to buy a bra. That was when I fantasized  that I was a detective putting on my gun holster for duty, instead of an article of female clothing. Fantasy was the only way I felt like I was not misrepresenting myself. I began to realize that what I was feeling was that my outward body did not match what was inside. As I grew up, in the 80's and 90's, what I was going through was not mainstream and not something I had easy access to. I became aware of the gay community and knew my attraction to women seemed to fall into that category but it still did not explain the way I conducted myself and why I felt like a man inside my own head. 

My family was ultra religious and I did not know where to go, so I kept it all inside. By 16 years old, I began to realize that the world I lived in was not kind to people that felt like me. I did not understand. I started to do research and discovered the answer I had been searching for: I was born the wrong gender. Through the years that followed, I struggled to hide who I was because I lived in the Bible Belt and anything out of the norm was condemned. I would hear my parents calling other people that were gay or transgender  "abominations to God” and that they were going to “burn in hell." This terrified my teenage mind and I hid even deeper inside myself.

When I was 18 I finally shared my story with someone and we developed a romantic relationship and I finally felt free! My parents later found out and I was not so graciously asked to leave their home, My mom called me an abomination and told me that I would spend eternity burning and seeing the faces of all the children in my life asking me why I betrayed them. 

I found my own way and a loving relationship and stand in family to support me and love me. I discovered there was a solution to the gender dysphoria and I sought out a doctor to correct what I called "my birth defect."

When my parents found out they told me that they were taking my two sisters aged one and twelve out of my life and that I would never see them again. I spent several weeks in the deepest, darkest place of depression. I found myself going through things I did not know if I would survive. Then, I decided that one day, my sisters would be old enough to make the decision themselves and that I would go back into hiding and stop taking my life-giving hormones to appease my family. 

That is what I did for the next 25 years. I hid. I hid my life from my family. I hid my relationships from my family. My parents never knew that their child has been loved beyond measure. My parents do not even know that my ex and I have a beautiful 21 year old daughter — their first grandchild. This breaks my heart every day. Those 25 years were filled with so many ups and downs and personal stories of defeat and walking around at my rock bottom. I was constantly worried that my family would learn that I had not stopped living my life and that I just had began to hide it from them. I feel my life potential was never fulfilled because I was in a constant state of fear. 

In the last couple years, I have decided that I can no longer hide who I am and have found the support of a great company that not only provides a safe haven for trans individuals, but offers benefits to assist in becoming your true self. 

I started back on hormones and my body is becoming what I have felt my entire life. I am in the process of legally changing my name with the court system and being able to "correct" my birth certificate. I have a letter from my physician stating that I have met the legal requirements to change my gender and I am scheduled to have my gender affirmation surgery in the first week of December. My dad and his wife have accepted me and are walking this journey with me, they are thrilled to have another son! I am working through how to share this with my mom and my sisters, preparing myself for that around Thanksgiving. I now have 5 nieces and nephews that I am once again terrified to lose but I have to be who I am and not hide any longer. I have to take the step and hope that they step with me. Therapy has been my saving grace and I am working to build the life that I have always wanted. I have an amazing woman in my life that is also standing by me during my transition, and we are building an amazing life together. I have the support of my dad and stepmother. 

My life looks tremendously different than it did 25 years ago. I am still afraid of the upcoming conversation with my mom, stepdad, and my sisters. But I cannot hide any longer. I have to step out into the world as my true self and I am honored to have such an amazing circle of support now around me. 

Taya SteereI

’m Taya Steere, a Security Engineer on Lyft’s Red Team located in the Seattle Office. I’m a trans femme non-binary person who uses she/her or they/them pronouns. 

This week will be one year since I came out publicly online and at work the following Monday. Due to stigmatization around queer and transgender identities in our society, not transitioning until my late 30s is sadly not an uncommon occurrence. I grew up in a rural area where any signs of things considered gay or girly were an invitation to rampant bullying and emotional abuse. In middle school, I got teased for playing with my hair in class because “only girls twirl their hair” which lead me to shave my head for over 20 years.

I always made excuses for why I didn’t have my hair the way I was happy with, but it wasn’t until I lived my gender identity that I realized it was internalized self-hate. It’s not the only issue that ended up scaring me for years, but readily highlights the type of issues faced by transgender people to this day. Many of us struggle with mental health concerns, not because of who we are, but how society treats us from the time we are children. 

I will always regret that I missed out on being myself for most of my adult life, but also recognize that I may not be where I am today if I had transitioned earlier. I’m lucky and grateful to be at a supportive employer where I can be myself and live in an area with a high level of support for transgender people. So many others are not so lucky and have to deal with rampant job discrimination, lack of appropriate healthcare, and politicians criminalizing us just for being who we are. We cannot change society for the better on our own and need more privileged people to speak up with us, not for us. 

For those of you reading this who may have questioned their gender identity and are worried you are too old or too isolated, I’ll give you the same advice I received: You are never too old to transition and you are not alone. I’m happier now than any time I’ve been in my life since I finally get to be me. I don’t hate myself when I look in the mirror anymore. I have made some wonderful friends now rather than isolating myself from the world. It is your life and you should embrace yourself for who you are. 

Charley Miller

My name is Charley Miller and I’m a proud trans woman. My journey began when I was eight years old and I walked into the kitchen while my mother was preparing dinner and asked, “Mom, am I gay?” After a very long, pensive pause she calmly and firmly replied, “No.”

Let me provide a small bit of backstory: My father was born in 1924, my mother was born in 1940, and I was born in 1972. I am the final child for both of my parents. Being from an older generation, they had many unprogressive thoughts and predispositions that are almost archaic compared to society today. I was brought up being reminded that I was my “mother's boy” and my “father's son.” That coupled with very strong parental convictions of the stereotypical male gender identity I was assigned at birth. Therefore, when I began to develop what I categorized as “feminine desires,” I kept these thoughts to myself.

As a trusting child, after taking my mother’s firm “no” at face value, I never questioned if her answer might be incorrect. It wasn’t until I turned 11 or 12 when I began to have an unprecedented desire to develop breasts. I had no rational reason and I never vocalized any of this. The thoughts would eventually end up locked away in a little box I kept in my heart.

There was one time when while my parents were at work when I borrowed some of my mom’s clothing. I would wear these items after returning from school and before my parents returned from work. The mid-80s in the midst of  the “AIDS epidemic” was not a time for me to openly explore or inquire about the angst I was carrying with me. Again, I put them in that little box for safekeeping until a later time.

After high school, I moved away for college and was able to explore, experience, and acknowledge some of my desires for femininity. There was always a strong need for acceptance that I wasn’t able to explore these fully. Looking back, I don’t know whether it was peer, family, or societal acceptance that hindered me from being free. I was, however, able to live with the label of crossdresser. So during college and into my late 20s, that was the tightrope I walked: “A straight man who enjoyed crossdressing.”

I remember my 30th birthday. The woman I was living with had accepted, embraced, and supported my crossdressing and so to celebrate my birthday, “the ladies went out to dinner” — and it was a blast! We spent the weekend in a local hotel and went to Disneyland the following day. It was an eye-opening experience. Despite the numerous times she and I went out together as women, this one weekend was the first time that I felt relaxed, accepted, and most importantly, comfortable. It was the first time I admitted out loud that I wanted to be a girl. However, society and my family was not ready for me to transition.

Society was just beginning to use the word “transgender” but it would be a few more years before the definition would be understood and even longer for acceptance. My family, too, was naive to the growing transgender community. So yet again I hid everything feminine or transgender in that little box in my heart waiting for another time. I hid them so incredibly deep that even I almost forgot about them.

While married to another woman for eight years, I turned 40, my child was born, and my last living parent passed away.  As each of these milestones passed I grew a stronger desire to transition. The first step was coming out to my wife and seeking therapy. A year passed and I then came out to family and shortly after that, publicly in 2014. This was a tremendously joyful time for me because I got to not only admit to myself that I was transgender, but also to the world.

All this happiness was met with sadness when my wife filed for divorce in February, 2017. The divorce was not easy. It was one of the darker points in my life and it was then I decided to begin hormone replacement therapy (HRT) in June. I had not started earlier at the request of my wife.    

I was the stay-at-home parent and with the onset of the divorce, I needed something fast and flexible and Lyft Express Drive was the solution. I drove for ten and a half months while also working at the San Diego Zoo. Because of the diversity and inclusion of both companies, I was able to transition while working. By December, 2017, I was working full-time at Lyft. 

The last two years have been a whirlwind of a journey for me, with many ups and downs. Overall it’s been wonderful compared to my past.

The one fleeting, recurring thought I have is: Where would my life be had I chosen to transition earlier in life? One thing I know for certain is that I would not have my child and he means everything to me. As for the rest of my past, I’ll never know and I’m not going to lose any sleep trying to find the answer.