I rushed to the airport gate for São Paulo. I held my breath, my face getting hot. I sat down and folded on a bench as I covered my head with my jacket. In this makeshift tent, I slowly inhaled and exhaled to keep my crying inaudible. Tears streamed down my face. These emotions were incited by the ignorant TSA workers who violated me. “Lift up your shirt” they commanded— like that was an appropriate request.

I dressed as my sex. I thought everything was done right to avoid confrontation… To keep myself safe in a transphobic country, around a Christian family. I left my preferred clothing, name, and pronouns at home. Portuguese speakers couldn’t grasp a gender-neutral pronoun and I hardly speak the language. Not to mention grasping my identity. Why I would choose this life? Couldn’t I just be gay? It would be easier to perform as that person my family met so many years ago.

Yet, if TSA could clock me as an anomaly, how would Brazil react? My previously resolved anxieties resurfaced. I was going to visit a family who hadn’t seen me in many years. To celebrate a nephew who doesn’t even know the real me. I was traveling to the country with the highest rates of recorded violence against transgender people. What if I told my Brazilian family? I’m aware the country’s attitudes are changing; but what side of the movement are they on? In São Paulo, there are trans individuals in government and religious positions. Does my family accept them? Do they resent them?

I felt a tapping on my shoulder and resurfaced from the darkness. A beautiful person was looking down at me and asked if I was okay. When I made eye contact, she could tell I had been crying. “I saw what happened at TSA and I want you to know I’m here if you need support.” I analyzed the safety of opening up to her. A rainbow flag I noticed on her bag. Although many gay Brazilians do not support transgender people, I opened up. After all, I was still in the U.S. and had a safe place to go to if I was met with violence or judgment. In return, the individual opened up to me.

She was a lesbian anthropologist flying to São Paulo to research the local viewpoints on the demands for transgender rights. She invited her partner to come along to Brazil, but they denied based on my same fears. This woman called me brave for choosing to go. I didn’t feel brave for hiding my identity… but I realized I was brave for protecting myself. As the anthropologist got up to leave, she reminded me that culture is not stagnant. It is a negotiated system of meaning that is currently debating trans rights. Eventually, Brazilians will come to a place of understanding nonbinary people. She wished me the best of luck being accepted in Brazil if I ever choose to come out there.