When I was a child, I wanted to be a superhero. As one could imagine by reading this blog, I didn’t want to be Superman as much as I wanted to be Supergirl, but that is not the topic at hand.

As children and even adults, we consider superheroes to be cape-clad men and women who are perfect in every way and who can get away with wearing nothing but spandex and maybe a mask. These men and women would run around saving the earth from the forces of evil or picking innocent kittens out of a tree for the local old woman.

As I got older, I learned that though this was a very romantic view of superheroes, it eliminated almost all of the real ones. I don’t mean the people who try to dress up and try to emulate Batman by night but rather those who, despite whatever hardships they face in their lives, choose to make a difference in other people’s as well.

One of my personal heroes comes to mind.

When I began my first go around at transition way back in 1996, I was still quite young and impressionable; I had no real clue what the world had in store for me or the hardships transgender people face. In my early foray into seeking information and peers with whom to share knowledge and friendship, I came across a woman named Julie.

Julie was the closest thing to a transgender celebrity I had met back then; everyone seemed to know who she was and aspired to be just like her. Her picture was the first thing that inspired me as a young trans girl to believe that there was hope of not only living life as myself but possibly also being attractive and accepted entirely as a woman.

These were the early days of the internet, so not much information about transgender people was available. Still, Julie and her peers worked to create some of the early forums and e-mail lists for us to join and come together as a community. She hosted websites with information on transition and often lent her own views to help us young folk muddle through.

I was very lucky to know Julie personally as well. Though I was too young and foolishly self-absorbed to tell her, she was my role model, my friend, and, lucky for me, my mentor.

When things went badly for me, and I found both myself and my child essentially homeless, Julie and her family were generous enough to take us into her own home and give us a place to live.

To me, Julie is a perfect example of a superhero.

Sadly, Julie did not make it. As much as she was a celebrity in our community and so many trans folks looked up to her, she had problems and challenges of her own that overwhelmed her; she ended up taking her own life when they became too much for her. I am sorry that there was no superhero to rescue my friend Julie.

I take this experience and my relationship with Julie as an important lesson. When she was around, I was always selfish and self-absorbed. I was great at taking, but I hardly ever gave anything back. I have much to be ashamed of from those years, and these are things I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

But they were not in vain.

There are many superheroes today; some may seem larger than life, and others may be simple people trying to help make a difference in their communities. They may not wear capes fly or even be known by the community at large. But they have given of themselves for the sake of others, not for reward, not for praise, and not for celebrity status, but simply to help others.

To my friend Julie, I hope that you have found peace.

I still want to be like you…