The lives of transgender individuals are complex and influenced by a multitude of factors, not simply related to their gender identity, sexual orientation, or transition; Variables such as race, ethnicity, and gender also come into play, which are often overlooked when analyzing the intense, unique, and arduous narratives of such individuals. While race and ethnicity are difficult to define and identify in a simple and concise way, race is usually linked to physical appearance, while ethnicity is linked to country of origin, common languages, culture, and sometimes religion. Since these unique traits play a role in defining individuals, it is clear that such a mezcla can create complex and contrasting experiences. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay Privilege, in our modern and often xenophobic world, is often linked directly to race; however, it may be attributed to “sex or gender, sexuality, wealth, immigration status, or social class,” Erickson-Schroth, 2014, p. (24). While not necessarily abstract, privilege is an ever-evolving monster that rears its head in various forms; while an individual may benefit from cisgender and heterosexual privilege, that same person may be vulnerable to prejudice due to their economic status or racial background. Additionally, a woman may be financially sound, but face resentment because of her gender or even her sexual orientation. Religion, ethnicity and physical ability can also be invoked as part of privileges. Erickson-Schroth's (2014) publication states the following: Our privileges and the discrimination we face can also be intersectional, based not just on one feature of our identity or who we are, but on the combination of traits we possess. The type of discrimination faced by a black woman is different than that faced by a black man. Characteristics about us can also provide us with privileges or make us vulnerable to discrimination depending on the situation. (p. 24) Because many privileges are tied to race, it is critical to address and recognize the narratives of people of color. Although whites in the United States no longer constitute the majority, the term minority, when used to describe non-white races, should be avoided, as it “implies that one group is smaller or less important than another” (Erickson-Schroth, 2014, page 26). Prejudice, much like the focus of modern feminism, is intersectional, and so are the experiences of members of the LBGTQA+ community. The experiences of non-heterosexual or non-binary people of color require their own space and voice, as they are unique and crucial to the movement. To best advocate for both members of the LGBTQA+ community and people of color, allies must learn to take a step forward and a step back. “Cisgender people of color who are or want to be allies of trans people of color are important in creating and challenging individuals and groups who oppress trans people of color, often while residing in the same neighborhoods and communities” (Erickson-Schroth, 2014, page 36). Issues surrounding the transgender experience, the narratives of people of color, and the stories of members of the LGBTQA+ community are intersectional and relevant in the modern era and must be addressed, discussed, and understood. Reading the above struggles, narratives, and diverse experiences pushed me to question my story as a bisexual, cisgender, biracial woman. Read about people whose culture conflictswith their identity was comforting, as my nature-based spiritual beliefs, guided by my Native American father during my childhood, were vague regarding my now complex and sometimes even confusing and frustrating experience as I identify as bisexual. While my mother's culture and religion, white and Christian, do not condemn my existence, they are not yet warm and welcoming. At family functions, when my identity is dropped, like a verbal bomb, sending ripples of raised eyebrows, little giggles, and eye rolls, I feel vulnerable and often long for the security blanket of heterosexual privilege that I was in. wrapped up until I came out in 2014. In my study of privilege and its love affair with bias, prejudice, and even hatred in the LGBTQA+ community it became apparent that the struggles of my brothers and sisters, not just my siblings, are different across the board, from being heavily intertwined. racial tension, to the passage of white privilege. The story of Wes, a queer, trans, Puerto Rican individual, struck me, as he described himself as a fluke, as if from the mouth of others. Feeling itchy in your skin, and perhaps even unwanted in your community, is something I'm sure many awkward teenagers, family black sheep, and social pariahs feel, but not quite to the extent that Wes, who said he was "born bad ” (Erickson-Schroth, 2014, p. 27). While I don't think I was “born bad,” finding my place hasn't always been easy opened my eyes to my privilege. Being a white, bisexual woman from a low-income family, and also identifying as a first-generation college student, there have indeed been challenges I've faced, but those pale in comparison to people who do. they identify as people of color. Through my reading, obviously, there has been a shift in values. While the LGBTQA+ community prides itself on accepting people from all walks of life, there is no question of casual racism, just like sexism. occasional, still exists and rears its ugly head. As a white woman, I must recognize that I benefit from systematic racism, as heavy door hinges are more easily lubricated by my lack of pigment in my skin. It is important to nod respectfully towards intersectionality, as well as being able to identify and combat subtle racism; being a member of a commonly oppressed group, LGBTQA+, does not exclude me from racist behavior, and I must therefore fight the institutionalized racism around me to be a better ally. Even simple actions like speaking up in the face of racist jokes, stereotypes, or prejudices are powerful and send a clear message: I am an ally to people of color, both within my LGBTQA+ community and outside of it, and I am willing and ready to discuss and fight oppression in all its forms. To recognize my privilege, it is important that, as an ally, I explore the ways in which I can benefit from both my identity as white and the ability to “pass” and appear heterosexual while dating an individual who identifies as male. Because I am aware of my privilege, I am willing to listen and learn from the experiences of people of color to be informed about their narratives; furthermore, I must step back into the spaces reserved for their expression and existence, to honor and respect their voices. Additionally, I need to use my voice to lift theirs whenever possible. Being an ally can mean not being included in the conversation. Just like it's hateful when.