Umut Dursun didn't meet a transgender person until he was 23 and a college student in San Diego. But when he did, something inside him clicked.
Born as a girl in Pflugerville, Texas, a small town 17 miles outside Austin, Dursun lacked the language to explain the confusion he felt about his gender identity.
"I told my parents I was a boy as young as three," said Dusun, 42. "I was growing up in a time where there wasn't access to these kinds of conversations, so there wasn't really any understanding of what trans was for me to put into words and experience that I was having. I knew that I felt like something wasn't quite right, something was different."
Dursun's journey of self-discovery has been deeply tied to understanding his gender.
"I started my transition medically over 15 years ago," said Dursun. "And you know, I've done the things that I needed to for me were having top surgery [breast removal] and eventually I had a hysterectomy."
Dursun taught school in the Teach for America program in Miami from 2011 to 2013. Then he worked with YES institute, a transgender advocacy group in Kendall from 2014 to 2020. Today, he lives in Denver with his wife, building a career rooted in authenticity and trans advocacy.
His identity and existence, like many other transgender people, may face new challenges under the Trump administration.
Early in his second term, President Donald Trump has issued a wave of executive orders against trans Americans, attempting to ban transgender people from serving in the military and defining gender as fixed at birth.
Quiet the confusion
Dursun hasn't always been so vocal about his identity.
In fact, when he was younger he gravitated to activities that would quiet the confusion he felt about living in his own skin and that allowed him to express himself. One of those outlets was music.
"Music was a huge part of my life," said Dursun. "It's been the thing that in times when I felt like I didn't have my voice or I didn't know how to say, it was my form of communication."
That connection to music stayed with him, even after he left his hometown to join the Marine Corps after high school.
"I felt like there was just more for me to explore," said Dursun. "I wanted to get out of the town that I was in and figure out, you know, who I am. And that was really at the heart of why I joined the military."
Joining the military gave him the chance to see the world and serve others.
"I always really enjoyed being a leader and being of service to others in the community," said Dursun. "And I felt like, what better way than to be of service to our country and to be in the military?"
Dursun began his service in military intelligence, but when the chance came to join the Marine Corps band, he couldn't pass it up.
"Music is fundamental to morale," said Dursun. "Lots of different performing opportunities, which was great."
He played at homecomings, farewell ceremonies and burial ceremonies.
'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'
But his plan of discovering who he was while in the Marines wasn't easy, especially with the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in place.
Enacted in 1993 under President Bill Clinton, the policy banned openly gay, lesbian, or bisexual people from serving in the military.
While it barred asking service members about their sexual orientation, it also prevented individuals from disclosing it, creating an environment of fear and silence.
The fear of being investigated or dishonorably discharged loomed over LGTBQ+ service members.
At the time, Dursun had discovered his attraction to women.
"I was in the Marine Corps as a woman or female dating women, and there was a lot of fear of getting kicked out," said Dursun. "I opted to get out just to preserve myself, not to have to worry about having a dishonorable discharge or going under an investigation. Stay with my partner and not have to worry about anything that could come eventually."
Though "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is gone, transgender and non-binary people are facing the sharp end of discriminatory policies again.
The executive order banning transgender and non-binary people from enlisting or serving in the military that Trump signed in January states, "A man's assertion that he is a woman, and his requirement that others honor this falsehood, is not consistent with the humility and selflessness required of a service member."
Federal judges have since blocked the order due to its discriminatory nature, but many in the transgender community are still left outraged and worried as the courts continue to battle it out.
"There's just this fear about what it means to be trans," said Dursun. "You have a lot of people who want to serve our military and are doing great jobs, are leaders in their field, and simply because of how they identify, to say that they aren't valid or worthy is really sad and disheartening."
Life after military
After leaving the military, Dursun studied music at San Diego State University, where he made friends, joined clubs, and received a strong education.
But everything clicked into place when he was 23 and met the transgender person for the first time. He doesn't recall much about that person, only that they were the friend of a friend.
At last, he had the words to describe what he'd felt his whole life, but the fear still lingered.
"I didn't think that there was a world in which I could actually be trans," said Dursun. "I felt fear of losing my partner and losing my family and losing my support again."
But ultimately, Dursun knew what he needed to do.
"It just took a couple years for me to be able to, like, decide that I couldn't keep living without transition," said Dursun.
As he began his gender journey, he felt a growing pull toward empowering youth.
He started working at the YES Institute in Miami, where he helped lead conversations around gender, orientation, and suicide prevention.
Empowering others
Later, joining Teach For America, focusing on recruitment and education systems throughout the country.
"So it has been like a woven past and different careers all rooted in education and empowering young people to be their best," said Dursun. "It's nice to be in the stage of life where I have the opportunity to get back in a different way."
Now, he continues his mission working as camp director at Harbor Camps, a summer camp created as a safe and affirming community for transgender youth.
And the need for places like Harbor Camps is urgent.
According to The Trevor Project, 45% of transgender and non-bianry youth seriously considered suicide in 2024, with 11% reported attempting it.
Founded in 2009, Harbor Camp began as a simple overnight camp on a rented property. Today, it spans six weeks on a dedicated site in New Hampshire, offering activities like swimming, archery, sports, performing arts and a rock wall.
"It was really just founded as a place for kids to have a traditional overnight camp experience, get away from, you know, everything else, and have fun just being a kid," said Dursun.
For many of their campers, it's more than just a summer camp, it's a refuge.
"A lot of our kids may come from communities where they're the only people that they've known to be trans or non-binary," said Dursun. "They come from places where there might be some hostility and even some fear towards our community, and they come to camp and see they get to just thrive."
According to Harbor Camps, 92% of their campers feel more confident in themselves after attending the camp, and 97% say they feel like they are a part of a community.
Working at the Harbor Camps has been a fulfilling experience for Dursun who is a role model for his campers.
"I know that as a kid, it would have been great if I could have had more of an understanding of who I got to be as an adult," said Dursun. "There's a lot of rhetoric in the world about being trans and how that's hard and you can't have a successful life. But I think it's really important that our kids see successful…happy people…It's really empowering for the younger kids to be able to see that.
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