Moving Trans Histories Forward with Origami Customs

I feel like I’ve lived a year in the past two weeks – my trip to Victoria, which included an community open house at Island Sexual Health, and then attending and presenting at the Moving Trans History Forward Conference at  UVIC, felt like stepping directly into the future of trans research, education, and community programming. I think I’m gonna need a couple of months just to integrate all of the experiences that I’ve had! 

I don’t have the full recording of my presentation just yet, but I’ll be sharing that soon, along with a public link so you can watch it, too. So, for now, I won’t go into the details of what I spoke about, because it’s a resource that deserves its own blog. Instead, I want to reflect on what it meant to be part of these two powerful events during Trans Week of Visibility, especially in a moment where trans history is being written in real time.

Origami Customs’ Open House at Island Sexual Health

When I found out I’d be heading to Victoria for the Moving Trans History Forward Conference, I started reaching out to see if there were any local community organizations I could connect with. Many of you may not know that I actually grew up in Victoria, so returning to my hometown with resources and skills to share felt really special.

Connecting with Syd at Island Sexual Health just a couple of weeks before the event felt like perfect timing. I’ve known about ISH since I was a teenager—I accessed their services for birth control and sexual health education back in the day, so it was really meaningful to reconnect.

Their current programming is incredible. Not only do they run a stellar sexual health education program in elementary schools, but they’ve also expanded their community offerings with a fully stocked gender gear program. We’re talking gaffs, binders, packers, breast forms, and tape—all available on a sliding scale that starts at zero dollars. (Access that program HERE!) I was thrilled when they invited me to come in and share my knowledge about using gaffs and binders safely, especially for youth and folks who are new to gender-affirming garments. 

I also connected with Cheryl from VI Binders, another incredible organization operating out of Nanaimo. She came down to join us and spoke about her work. VI Binders is a non-profit that offers Binder options for FREE, at cost, or to borrow! Cheryl also offers a service where she literally drives free binders to people’s homes all across Vancouver Island and lets them try things on while she waits outside in the car. What a powerhouse!

Throughout the community day, I met so many amazing folks, helped them take their measurements for custom binders and gaffs, answered questions, and even ran into a few familiar faces from my old Victoria days. My good friend Lee was there modeling both a gaff and a binder (which is rare in itself!) and sharing their personal experience so generously with others.

One thing I heard over and over was how confusing it can be to take your own measurements for custom garments. Having someone there to walk you through it can make such a difference—not just for ordering custom garments from us, but for feeling empowered to shop for clothes that fit your body, on your own terms.

It’s a gift to partner with organizations that share our values around gender-affirming care and accessibility. Getting to meet people face to face—both organizers and community members—is such a rare and meaningful part of what I do. I know that this is just the beginning of a beautiful collaboration with Island Sexual Health, and I can’t wait to see where it leads next.

Origami Customs at the Moving Trans History Forward Conference

Being a part of the Moving Trans History Forward conference at UVic was genuinely life-changing. Presenting in front of a room full of trans leaders, community members, scholars, and changemakers—and being able to share the work we do at Origami Customs—felt both humbling and powerful. 

It’s rare to be in a space where everyone deeply gets why gender-affirming design matters, and where the nuances of our work are met with curiosity, care, and genuine excitement. To be included in that lineup, and to contribute my voice to this collective moment in trans history, was something I’ll carry with me for a long time.

I honestly wasn’t prepared for what the conference would be like. It felt electric to be in a room with over 100 other trans folks who are not just surviving, but truly thriving—leading, creating, researching, and redefining what’s possible for our community. I had imagined something more corporate—maybe a few DEI reps sent to gather notes and report back. But wow, was I ever wrong. 

Instead, I found myself surrounded by brilliant trans researchers from universities around the world, nonprofit leaders, artists, educators, and grassroots community builders—all deeply engaged in shaping the future of trans experience. Attendees joined both in-person and online from over 20 countries, and the age range was just as expansive, from young kids to elders in their 70s and beyond.

The panels stood out to me: three deeply moving sessions where folks shared honest, vulnerable stories on stage. The Youth Panel, the Trans Elders Panel, and the Two-spirit & Indigenous Panel all offered powerful reflections that broadened my understanding of our collective past and present. These were the kinds of stories that don’t always make it to mainstream platforms—and yes, I cried through every one of them.

One moment I’ll never forget was the keynote by Lucia Lucas—the world’s first trans opera singer in a leading role—and her collaborator, Tobias Picker, composer of Lili Elbe, an opera about one of the first people to undergo gender confirmation surgery, in the 1930s. 

You might know the story from The Danish Girl, but hearing it told by Lucia, alongside her own experiences as a trans woman in opera, brought an entirely new depth. If you're interested, you can watch the whole thing on Youtube.

The performance was stunning, but what struck me most was their conversation, comparing the lives of two trans women separated by a century, yet bound by shared themes of courage and authenticity.

Being in that space reminded me that trans history isn’t just something we study—it’s something we live, shape, and carry forward every day.

Some of My Takeaways From the Moving Trans History Forward Conference

As I took in over 100 presentations, alongside the powerful panels and keynotes, some clear themes started to emerge for me. Here are some of my takeaways from this impactful space:

Future Dreaming 

“Future dreaming” was a new concept for me, but it came up again and again in the talks I attended this weekend—and it’s stayed with me ever since. The idea is about collectively imagining trans futures—utopias even—that are rooted in care, possibility, and self-determination. It’s about dreaming big, but also drawing from the wisdom of our past to help shape what’s next.

We can’t build a new world without a roadmap, and we can’t create that roadmap without making space to share ideas, histories, and visions. That’s why gatherings like this are so powerful. They give us space to connect, reflect, and exchange knowledge across generations, identities, and experiences. If we want a future where trans people don’t just survive but thrive, we need to be the ones writing and dreaming that future together.

Stories of Trans Elders & Intergenerational Sharing 

Hearing from elders who navigated gender long before we had the language or community we have today was a powerful reminder of how much has changed—and how much still hasn’t. I heard from trans elders who transitioned, detransitioned, and sometimes retransitioned, not because their identities weren’t valid, but because they were surviving systems that didn’t make space for them. Their stories challenged the idea that there’s one “right” way to be trans, and instead offered a complex, beautiful look at gender over a lifetime.

What made these stories even more impactful were the ways they honored the intersections of identity—elders spoke openly about living through the HIV epidemic, experiencing homelessness, trauma, navigating life as Indigenous people, and living with disabilities. It wasn’t sanitized or simplified; it was raw and real. And through it all, there was so much wisdom, humor, and hope. Intergenerational sharing like this is vital. It gives us grounding, context, and connection—and reminds us that trans people have always been here, shaping the world in quiet and revolutionary ways.

Building Intentional Foundations 

As I listened to the other presenters, it really struck me that the core of my own talk about building trans-integrated structures within businesses and organizations was a thread that ran through so much of the work being shared. Again and again, I heard people emphasizing the importance of designing with trans people in mind from the very beginning, rather than tacking us on as an afterthought.

Whether the conversation was about accessible architecture, academic institutions, or nonprofit programs, there was a clear and urgent message: many existing systems were never built for us in the first place. That lack of foresight has real consequences. 

And the only way forward is to center trans experience right from the start—co-creating programs, spaces, and services that are not just inclusive, but inherently affirming. It was powerful to realize that so many of us, across different sectors, are working toward the same vision: a world where trans people are not just included, but foundational.

Keeping Each Other Safe In The Current Political Climate

It was impossible to attend the conference without feeling the weight of the current political climate, especially the wave of anti-trans legislation and rhetoric coming out of the U.S. right now. In fact, the impact was visible in the room—or rather, online. 

Many attendees from the States who originally planned to come in person made the difficult decision to join virtually instead. Some shared that they weren’t sure if, after crossing into Canada, they’d be allowed back into their home country. That fear says everything about the urgency of this moment.

You can’t talk about trans history—or dream into trans futures—without talking about politics, now more than ever. That truth underscored so many of the presentations and conversations at the conference. But alongside the fear and frustration, there was a resounding message of solidarity: we keep each other safe. Trans people have always relied on one another to get through hard times, and this moment is no different. Organizing, connecting, and showing up for each other isn’t just powerful—it’s essential.

Why Trans Visibility Matters

Anyone who saw the beautiful array of trans identity and style represented at the conference was reminded that we are such a vibrant, expansive, and creative community. There were so many variations of presentation and identity. It was clear that trans visibility is not about fitting into one mold, but about showing up fully, in whatever way feels most authentic. The energy in the room was unapologetic, celebratory, and deeply affirming. It was a space where trans people didn’t just exist—we flourished.

Being unapologetically trans isn’t always easy, especially in a world that often tries to make us smaller or quieter. But moments like this remind us of the power of taking up space and being seen. Visibility isn’t just about being looked at—it’s about being recognized, being in community, and showing each other what’s possible. At this conference, every outfit, every gesture, every story shared was a declaration: we are here, we are whole, and we are not going anywhere.

Even Through Tears, We Dream Forward

I arrived at the conference during a particularly tender moment in my own life. As I arrived in Victoria, I received heartbreaking news: a young trans woman—someone I deeply loved, a powerhouse in my community, and someone who was even supposed to model in our next marketing campaign—had passed away. The news was devastating, and it only deepened my sense of urgency to create spaces of hope and possibility for our community.

My mind was scattered, my heart heavy. But in that moment of grief, I couldn’t imagine a more fitting place to be. Surrounded by people who would understand the specific, all-too-familiar pain of losing our trans women too soon, I felt held. Being in a space that honored trans lives and futures gave me room to grieve honestly, without having to explain why it hurt so deeply.

At the same time, I found myself listening to a panel of trans elders reflecting on how they never expected to live past 30. The contrast hit me hard—mourning the loss of someone so young, while witnessing the rare and powerful presence of those who had made it through. 

For so many, especially those who lived through the AIDS crisis or came of age in decades with even fewer resources and safety nets than we have now, survival itself was an act of resistance. And I kept thinking: what does it take to turn a trans person into an elder?

Maybe it’s spaces like this—where stories are shared, futures are imagined, and younger folks get to see what it looks like to grow old while being fully themselves. I went through so many COVID masks during the conference—each one soaked with tears, reminders of both the pain and the beauty of being trans in this world.

In the Presence of Those Who Matter Most

Something else made this conference incredibly special for me: I got to share it with my mom. She didn’t just show up for my talk—she sat in on several presentations, listened deeply, and was genuinely curious to learn more about the community I’m part of. 

She’s still navigating they/them pronouns and doesn’t always get everything right, but I know how rare it is to have a parent show up like that. I looked around the room and wondered how many others had the chance to be witnessed and supported by their families in this way. It’s not something I take for granted. It means the world to me that she not only accepts who I am, but cares deeply about the work I’m doing, and wants to hear from people with trans experiences that are different from my own.

And lastly, I got to be there as part of a trans relationship. Watching my romantic partner Elo give a brilliant talk on “transing” architecture filled me with such pride. We don’t often get to attend events like this together, and it’s something I treasure. Being visible as a t4t couple in a space that celebrates and uplifts us felt so affirming. We even met a few long-time t4t couples, and I found myself looking at them with admiration and hope, seeing in them the kind of future I dream of for all of us: full of love, solidarity, and lives built together.

Looking Ahead, Together

Conferences like Moving Trans History Forward offer something truly rare: a space where trans people from across the globe can come together, share our stories, learn from one another, and imagine bold, collective futures. Being surrounded by people who are dreaming, building, researching, and organizing for our liberation is nothing short of transformative.

We need trans voices at every level—shaping policies, designing programs, building community, and advocating for the services we all deserve. Our stories aren’t just powerful—they’re essential. 

That’s why events like this, and things like the Community Day at Island Sexual Health, are so important. They bring these conversations into local spaces, make resources more accessible, remind us that we have hope, and that this work happens on every scale—from international conferences to intimate community gatherings.

I’ll be making my presentation publicly available soon as a resource for both trans folks and allies. I hope it sparks conversation, supports learning, and helps create more trans-integrated systems—because together, we’re not just imagining a better future. We’re building it.