Opinion | ‘You called me a girl’: Chris Farias recognized by Hamilton YWCA for LGBTQ+ advocacy
Chris Farias is presented with the King Charles III Commemorative Medal by YWCA CEO Medora Uppal during the Women of Distinction Awards on Mar. 5.
Appearing in the Hamilton Spectator, March 22, 2025
“You run like a girl.”
“You talk like a girl.”
“You throw like a girl.”
From the time Chris Farias was a toddler, they loved all things traditionally feminine — from the colour pink to “My Little Pony” to wanting to figure skate instead of play hockey.
Assigned male at birth and now identifying as non-binary, Farias has always been in touch with their feminine side. (Non-binary is an identity embraced by some people who do not identify exclusively as a man or a woman. Many also identify as transgender.)
“I remember being three or four, sitting in my mom’s grocery cart and a woman came up to us. I had longish hair, and she said, ‘What a cute little girl.’ I remember feeling so happy about that.
“I love the part of me that is feminine. That part of me represents what I got from my mother and grandmothers, the maternal line in my family — it’s so beautiful.”
The world doesn’t always see that beauty.
Farias, who was recently awarded a King Charles III Coronation Medal from the Hamilton YWCA for their work as an activist and fundraiser for the LGBTQ+ community, is frequently a target of hate.
They have 300,000 followers on TikTok, where they regularly highlight issues affecting their community and directly address the demeaning comments and threats that come their way because, “I want everyone to see what people are saying.”
What are they saying?
“I’m going to find you and kill you.”
“You need to be eradicated from the planet.”
“I hope you get AIDS and die.”
Once a video was sent showing someone loading their gun.
Why are trans people, who represent a mere one per cent of the population, subjected to overwhelming cruelty? It’s a question that confounds Farias and one they addressed in a recent social post:
“When I was a toddler, you mistook me for a girl, so you called me a girl. When I was a kid, you said I was too girly to be a boy, so you called me a girl. When I was a teen, you saw me hanging out with the girls, so you called me a girl.
“My entire life, you have said that I am a girl and not once have you called me a boy. And now that I’m an adult and I’ve told you I’m not a boy, you insist on calling me one. And then you have the nerve to say we are the ones that are confused. Who’s confused here?”
Language is always evolving. Remember when we called women by their husband’s first and last name (“Mrs. John Smith”), which effectively erased a woman’s identity? Remember when women were mocked for keeping their “maiden” name? How hard was it to go from fireman and policeman to firefighter and police officer?
The assaults people like Farias are subjected to are indicative of the wider all-out assault — indeed, the attempted erasure — of transgender people since the Trump administration took power. The existence of trans people has disappeared from government websites, access to gender-affirming care has been denied (during the U.S. election, Donald Trump floated the absurd notion that transgender youth were getting surgeries at school when the reality is that this type of care is neither widely available nor provided to minors without parental consent).
There have been repeated attempts to ban the estimated 10,000 transgender military staff members from their jobs, government workers are fired for the simple act of using pronouns in their emails, passports with gender markers are being blocked and bathrooms have become legal battlegrounds by disallowing trans people to select the option that best suits them.
Trump admitted in a conversation last week with the Irish prime minister that targeting trans people helped him rise to power. “That’s why we won the election in record numbers,” he said. (Republicans spent more than $215 million in negative ad spending on trans issues in the election, according to the non-profit news organization Truthout.)
There’s been a similar backlash in Canada — the demonization of drag queen storytellers, Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre announcing he is “only aware of two genders” (proving just how unaware he is) and several provinces passing “parental rights” policies which deny children from expressing their gender in school.
Says Farias: “When I was playing with dolls in kindergarten in 1986, Mrs. Miller did not call my parents and did not report that I was also wearing an apron.”
Farias, who runs the branding agency Unicorn Rebellion and is a sought-after keynote speaker on inclusion and belonging, attended a Catholic church where a priest was convicted and jailed for sexual abuse. “The church made me feel that people had to choose between loving God or loving me.”
Their husband, Jared, is a Baptist who prays every night.
“I separate Jesus from the church,” says Farias. “What did Jesus say? ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’
“The exclusion of queer people is a modern distortion, not a biblical principle. I don’t smear all Christians. I just need the good ones to talk to some of the bad ones.”
As proof that people are capable of change, Farias offers the example of their father, a man who was disapproving whenever Farias played with dolls or wanted to wear pink. A dozen years ago, dreading the prospect of their father’s reproach, Farias opted not to go home for Thanksgiving.
“My mother had a meltdown and told him to work on it. He said he was sorry. I went home that Christmas.”
Parental rejection is devastating for anyone, but especially for trans youth. Every 45 seconds, a trans person between the ages of 13 and 24 in the U.S. attempts suicide, according to The Trevor Project, a leading suicide prevention organization.
That same organization also found that having at least one accepting adult in their lives lowers this risk by 60 per cent.
“Love heals,” says Farias, whose message to parents of trans kids is simple: “Tell your kids you love them. Be their first ally.”
When Chris addressed family members in their acceptance speech for the King Charles III Coronation Medal, they paid particular homage to their grandmother, Gilda.
“She told me if you don’t speak up when bad things happen, you’re just as responsible.” They also acknowledged their mother and father as “the best parents a trans fem, non-binary, gender queer, questioning, pansexual kid could ask for.”
And, with their usual dose of humour, added, “My mom is googling pansexual right now on her phone.”
One of the driving forces behind Farias’ perseverance is their commitment to being the representation they lacked growing up.
“I never saw anyone like me in the media or on TV — someone like me who could live a happy life. I never imagined a picket fence or getting married.”
Today they are married and yes, their home has a picket fence.
“I’m privileged to do this work — I’m not going to lose my job, I have a super solid family, my parents are supportive, I have a lovely husband, a house. I can stand up and say what I think and not be too worried,” says Farias, before adding “ … other than the death threats.”
Farias’ final words in their acceptance speech were directed to the youngest females in their life, nieces Charlie Mae, 5, and Maggie June, 3: “I do everything for you. I’m going to do my best to leave this place better than I found it. I promise.”
