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Pride and perseverance in Wichita’s transgender community

A transgender pride flag with the words "You Are Loved" hangs above the Westlink Church of Christ booth at the Wichita Pride Festival. Anastasia Kupper, a member of the church, says her faith and identity as a trans woman are intertwined.
Aminah Jenkins / KMUW
A transgender pride flag with the words "You Are Loved" hangs above the Westlink Church of Christ booth at the Wichita Pride Festival. Anastasia Kupper, a member of the church, says her faith and identity as a trans woman are intertwined.

The Kansas legislature passed a bill this banning gender-affirming care for minors—an ongoing trend nationally of anti-trans legislation. Members of the transgender community in Wichita share what their community means to them at a recent pride event.

Earlier this year, the Kansas legislature passed a bill banning gender affirming care for minors. It’s part of an ongoing trend nationally of legislation that targets the trans community.

Still, transgender people of all ages in Wichita say they find meaning in their community. Trans Wichitans shared their thoughts during a recent Pride event and hopes for the future.

Miles Wilson speaks during the Wichita Pride Rally. He says the resilience of queer adults showed him what was possible during his transition as a minor.
Aminah Jenkins / KMUW
Miles Wilson speaks during the Wichita Pride Rally. He says the resilience of queer adults showed him what was possible during his transition as a minor.

Miles Wilson, 18 (he/him)
When I was a junior in high school, the Kansas legislature had introduced and passed a bill that would ban gender affirming health care for minors. I lead a walk out at my school.

There were about 100 people who attended, and we had speeches and art and signs to protest this bill. The governor ended up vetoing it, and it didn't go through. But then they introduced the same bill a year later, and it did go through.

People forget that kids are humans too. If we are capable of deciding what we want to do for the rest of our lives, if we are capable of deciding our majors in college and all of these things that society already forces on us, then we are capable of deciding what our bodies want to look like.

Seeing so many people being openly queer is so energizing, and it's it really gives a lot of people like me hope for the future.

An Evergy employee hangs a pride flag in a bucket truck for the company's sport in the Wichita Pride Parade. The parade included businesses that supported the LGBTQIA+ community.
Aminah Jenkins / KMUW
An Evergy employee hangs a pride flag in a bucket truck for the company's sport in the Wichita Pride Parade. The parade included businesses that supported the LGBTQIA+ community.

June Turner, (she/they)
I’m the communications director for Wichita Pride. I'm a trans woman living in Kansas. Any time that I find resources that would be of benefit to anyone in community—but especially the gender non-conforming individuals—I share that, and it helps bring that lived experience to the [Wichita Pride executive] board.

At the expo hall today, all the bathrooms are gender inclusive. We're not policing bathrooms or anything like that. That makes it a safer space for trans individuals who have to worry about that in their daily lives.

KaiNoah Azai, 26 (he/him)
When I kind of first came out to my family, they didn't really understand the concept of how transitioning saves lives.

We're gonna be who we are at the end of the day, nothing's really gonna change that. It makes things harder for us. But as long as we got each other, I feel like within one we're bigger than all of the hate.

A person wears an empty hormone vial as earrings. Hormone replacement therapy was recently banned by the Kansas Legislature for minors.
Aminah Jenkins / KMUW
A person wears an empty hormone vial as earrings. Hormone replacement therapy was recently banned by the Kansas Legislature for minors.

Beau Kirkpatrick, 27 (he/they)
I've been refused service in Wichita before because I'm trans. The owner of the establishment told me that one incident doesn't reflect on the whole company and that the worker was in the right for refusing me service. I just wanted to get coffee and pastries, and I can't even do that sometimes.

Being at Pride makes me feel that I'm not invisible anymore and I'm not on an island alone. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter what's in your pants. It matters what's in your soul. I think that judging people based on that is ridiculous.

Anastasia Kupper, 29 (she/her)
I’m with the West Link Church of Christ. I have been out socially for four years. My spouse was already out, though, thankfully, so I knew that they were safe at the time. My family is very traditional, so it was a scary thing to do, but they've come around behind me, and they're learning and growing with me.

My faith is rooted in the idea that everyone is loved and that spreading love is the thing that we're here to do, and so in that I know that I am being loved by the people around me, and I am loving other people, and so I never feel like I like my identity as a trans woman is at odds with that, because it's just both elements are true about me.

Jessie Frejadottir, 53 (she/they)
My first Pride was here in Wichita in like 1996 or 1997. There were just a handful of people. This is the third time I've tried to come out, and it stuck this time.

Jessie Frejadottir holds a trans pride flag in the Wichita Pride Parade. She says being out after years of attending pride is freeing and joyful.
Aminah Jenkins / KMUW
Jessie Frejadottir holds a trans pride flag in the Wichita Pride Parade. She says being out after years of attending pride is freeing and joyful.

The first two times were in the early 90s, so it was not a great time to try to come out then. There was definitely more blatant, direct hostility and fear of physical, direct violence back then than I have now.

Being out is so much freer. I am truly out and proud. I'm happy to be here and representing my community and seeing my community out here and everybody just being themselves.

The reality is queer joy is what angers them the most. What they hate the most is us being happy. I'm just going to live my life and live it with joy and happiness.

Aminah Jenkins is the Korva Coleman journalism intern for the summer of 2025. She currently works for KBIA, an NPR affiliate in Columbia, Missouri. Aminah has a passion for human interest stories in policy and culture. Aminah has a bachelor’s degree in public policy in education from Meredith College in Raleigh, North Carolina, and is currently a graduate student at the University of Missouri studying data and investigative journalism.