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I recently saw Laverne Cox on Angie Martinez’s IRL podcast, and Angie asked a simple question.

What’s one thing allies can do better to support the trans community?

Laverne’s answer was simple, too.

Listen more than you speak.
Elevate the lived experiences and voices of real trans people whenever possible.

Then she said, “We can speak for ourselves. We can advocate for ourselves. We just need the platform to do it.”

Finally, she explained why that matters:

“Trans stories, our stories, re-humanize us.”

And it stayed with me as I headed to Provincetown, MA, to work Frolic Weekend, a weekend celebrating Queer and trans men of color.

It gave me a frame for how I wanted to show up.

I was there as a consultant, and part of the work was conducting Man on the Street interviews.

The more I thought about Laverne’s answer, the more it helped me name what the work actually required.

Even though I’m a storyteller, I was not there to be the messenger for other people’s stories.

They were the messengers.

My role was to help create the conditions where people could speak for themselves.

So much public health work depends on storytelling. Campaigns. Community profiles. Awareness month materials.

But here’s the question I want more of us to ask:

Are we making communities the subject of the story, or are we making them the source?

Because those are not the same thing.

When a community is the subject, the story can still be about them without really belonging to them.

Someone else decides the frame. Someone else chooses the quote, and the story may be technically accurate, but feel flattened.

When a community is the source, something different happens.

The message starts closer to lived experience. The language sounds less like a committee and more like a person. Like people.

It humanizes.

I was quickly reminded why I love man-on-the-street style interviews.

They’re unscripted.

They’re not someone reading a line that got approved three Tuesdays ago by a room full of people who may or may not understand the audience.

Which, respectfully, is one of my public health communication gripes.

They are spontaneous. Human. Responsive.

You ask a question, then you listen.

Listening is a skill, and I’d argue a public health strategy.

Capturing stories does not automatically mean honoring stories.

Before someone shared with me, I wanted them to know what we were doing.

I wanted them to know how the content could be used.

I wanted them to know they could skip a question. They could say no. They could stop.

And that’s the part of storytelling we don’t talk about enough.

A good story is not just about what we capture. It is about how we earned the right to capture it.

That is especially important when working in spaces that hold identities, histories, and lived experiences that have too often been misrepresented, extracted from, or spoken over. During and after Pride month.

As an ally, I do not need to be the voice.

Sometimes the work is holding the mic.

Or asking appropriate questions with warmth.

Sometimes the work is making the space feel safe enough to be honest.

Know that the story is not yours just because you recorded it.

🛠️ The PHacilitator’s Corner: When You’re Not the Best Messenger

There will always be stories you are not the best person to tell.

When you are not the best messenger, your job is to clarify the role you can play.

Ask yourself:

1. Who is closest to this story?
Who has the lived experience, context, language, and stakes?

2. What role am I actually playing?
Am I the messenger, the facilitator, the platform, the editor, the connector, or the person holding the mic?

3. Am I creating room or taking up room?
Is my presence helping people speak for themselves, or am I becoming the center of a story that is not mine?

4. Have I made consent clear and refusal easy?
People should know how their words may be used, and they should be able to skip, pause, stop, or say no without pressure.

5. Will the final version still honor the source?
Before you publish, post, present, or pitch it, ask: Does this protect the person’s voice, context, dignity, and meaning?

Sharing is caring, so share the stage.

I haven’t signed off in a while, wow, my bad

How’d I do?