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Many reserve the honorific "hero" for those in the armed services. For them, a hero fearlessly charges into battle, ignoring all risk of death in service of their country. I served as an officer in the United States Navy for five years before coming to Harvard Law School, but I was never a hero. I was never deployed, never even touched a weapon, and never had to make a personal choice between life and liberty.

Everything changed when I came out as transgender.

Now, the battlefield is America, and I am on the front line, fighting for my life and rights. Transgender lives and rights are under attack. And whether or not I choose to fight this war, I will still face its consequences.

Several weeks ago, in the midst of my first semester here at Harvard, I found myself fighting alongside other BGLTQ individuals and allies at Harvard against the Trump administration, which is threatening to redefine gender and eliminate legal protections for transgender individuals. For several days, we worked to form a response to the actions, and we planned our participation in the subsequent protest in Boston.

I will not try to convince you to care about my fate because I think you already do. I believe that most people are good and want to do the right thing. Yet, still, many do not act. Despite our politically vocal student body, the majority of students I encountered seemed apathetic to the crisis, and, of the thousands of students at Harvard, only a small fraction actually protested the action by the administration. While disappointed by your inaction, I am not surprised: I think you do not act because you are afraid. I know I am too.

I have been afraid my entire life. When I was a young child, I was afraid of what my family and friends might think of me if I spoke my mind. In school, I was afraid of what a bully might do if I attracted their attention. As I grew older, I became afraid of standing out in a world where I just wanted to fit in. When I realized that I was transgender a year and a half ago, these fears were amplified a thousandfold. Coming to the Law School this fall, I was more anxious about how people would receive me than about the tremendous amount of work that was awaiting me.

However, living openly as a trans woman has finally taught me to be courageous.

Courage does not mean fearlessness. We are all human, after all. Nor does courage involve charging headfirst into battle. Few people crave conflict, and I am surely not one of them. Courage only requires that one transform belief into action in the face of fear. Anyone can be courageous, from the soldier on the front line to the conscientious objector who actively practices nonviolence in defiance of the state.

Even those who oppose trans rights are courageous: They fear us greatly, and they turn their beliefs into action every day. They spit out slurs, assault us, and, sometimes, even murder us. They elect politicians who strip us of our rights and try to legally erase our existence. They ignore our cries as we are abused in prisons and as we sell our bodies to survive. They are not evil, but they are both ignorant of our existence and apathetic to your judgement.

Those who harm us do not know what it is like to be transgender and to feel a need to break free of society and of our own bodies. They do not know of the pain we feel, being told we are unworthy of love, of freedom, and of justice. They see us as sexual deviants, criminals, or, if we are lucky, mentally-ill fetishists. As many have done in the past, sometimes with inhumane results, they deny our humanity. And although they fear us, they do not fear you, and why should they?

Some of you do act. Some schools at Harvard put out statements in support of trans rights in the wake of the revelation in October. Some protested the Trump administration. However, most of you stood idly by as the news broke. You still laugh at jokes made at our expense. Some of you do not even vote because the issues do not affect you. You do not raise your voice nor your hand, nor do you issue any objection at all. Your silence is our death. And you refrain from standing up because you are afraid, not of us but of them. You are afraid of the same things I am, of their judgement and their hand, of being different and not fitting in.

Let our fear unite us in purpose.

No one is asking you to fight our battle, but I am asking you to be courageous. Stand up for our humanity, even if it means standing up to family and your Harvard classmates. You do not have to be our sword, but I am asking you to be our shield, to stand firm beside us as we face our fears together, whether in the streets or in the classroom. I do not want you to suffer for us, but to comfort us in our suffering. Donate money to, volunteer for, and promote transgender causes, especially BGLTQ student groups here at Harvard. Live fiercely, proudly, and openly in support of transgender people, and show those who oppose trans rights that fear will not stop you from doing what is right.

I am asking you to be a hero.

Eve L. Howe is a first-year student at Harvard Law School. She was an officer in the U.S. Navy.