Many mornings, I wake up to bad news and new attacks on my community. Just last week, I was heartbroken and infuriated to hear how the Supreme Court upheld a law in my home state of Tennessee to allow them to ban gender-affirming, life-saving care for transgender youth. On top of that, I get updates often from my transgender friends in other unsafe states about how they are leaving, stuck and afraid, or staying to fight for their communities.

Transgender folks across the country are losing access to gender-affirming healthcare and getting their passports returned with the wrong gender markers. I hear about families having to go to extreme lengths to get gender-affirming care for their trans kids because of discriminatory state policies like Tennessee’s. I watch as Congress tries to gut health insurance protections that help us get that life-saving care.

I feel grateful every day that I live in a state where government officials have continuously been committed to safeguarding protections for trans folks. But I’m still scared for myself and my community, especially for my Black & Brown trans siblings who face greater discrimination and violence, and for our trans youth—our students. It’s hard to wake up to messages and headlines that dehumanize us—some wishing us harm, or worse. That weight is real, and it doesn’t go away.

Yet, despite all this, I continue to see us shine brilliantly. We’re still creating art, dancing, singing, finding joy, and fighting. I hope to continue to see Pride Month shine just as much this year as it has in past years. This year, Chicago’s theme for Pride is “United in Pride”. And I can think of nothing better to unite around than supporting and celebrating trans folks, especially youth, as we continue to be under attack.

To me, an important part of uniting is sharing our stories. Not just to get others to finally understand us (dispelling myths and misconceptions that make us easily disposable and dismissible), but to help trans adults and kids understand themselves and let them know they are not alone. Stories bring a sense of belonging and community, and it is in those powerful forces that we find the strength to keep going. Us trans folks need that more than ever right now.

At Noble, I’m proud to be part of the Communications team, where I can work to share the stories of our people, including those of queer and trans students and staff across the network. I know firsthand how those stories can have a profound impact on our students.

As a high schooler myself, I had limited access to stories and language that could help me understand my sexuality and gender. I didn’t know how to recognize why being mistaken for a boy made me so happy, why I found myself drawn to novels about girls disguising themselves as boys, or how my desire to be the “bestest” friend with another girl in 8th grade was a crush. It wasn’t until I got to college that I finally came out to myself as bisexual (though I now identify more with just generally being queer). And it wasn’t for another couple of years that I would realize I was genderfluid. I eventually found my way and a community, mainly through the stories of others that I finally got to hear. I’m still here because of that. In fact, I’m flourishing.

This is why I am so honored to work as an unapologetically queer and trans storyteller and to have the opportunity to write this article.

This Pride Month and onward, I hope we all share stories. Stories of our beautiful truth or our steadfast allyship. Stories that bring hope, joy, and resilience in the face of oppression.

Allies, please share your stories! Because, trust me, your stories as advocates and supporters are just as important and so, so needed right now. I am a proud kid of a fierce single mother who now fights for other trans and queer kids as part of her local PFLAG chapter and as an elementary school teacher in Tennessee. Her support, I know, has made a world of difference for me and now for other kids. There is nothing that gives me more hope than hearing about another parent or loved one who is fighting tooth and nail for their trans kid. We need y’all.

And for my queer and trans siblings: We’ve inherited from our elders—like Marsha P. Johnson, Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, Sylvia Rivera, and Christine Jorgensen—a vibrant cacophony of authenticity that absolutely refuses to dull or break. Your stories are the ones that your students, kids, and younger siblings will look to to find their own identities and hope for their futures. Your stories are the ones that will push us forward into a world where no one, whether cisgender or transgender, whether queer or straight, has to suffer to stuff themself into a box that has never fit them. Pull from that cacophony. Be loud.

Pride is, first and foremost, a rebellion. It is also a grand celebration. And neither is silent.

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Before you leave! Speaking of stories: You should definitely check out this awesome Pride Month note from Cory Cain, dean of instruction at Pritzker College Prep— Breaking Silence, Building Joy.

And if you are a Noble student, staff member, parent, or community member with a story to tell, I’d love to share it with our wider community! Feel free to reach out to me at communications@nobleschools.org.