Alexander Miller used to request to work the Thanksgiving shift at his retail job. He couldn’t tell his coworkers why he wouldn’t be with his family when they asked.

“Little did they know, I’m transgender and my family doesn’t accept me,” he said. “I think the holidays are supposed to be the happiest time of the year, but for a lot of people, especially trans people, it’s the saddest time of the year.”

Miller, who recently moved to Houston from Kentucky, celebrated the holiday for the first time in years at a Thanksgiving potluck for the transgender community Tuesday night at the Montrose Center.

“Nobody here is ashamed to be themselves,” said George Zemanek, a transgender man who organizes the dinner each year. “It’s a place where people can safely be who they are without that fear and shame.”

The longstanding tradition was established in the late 1990s by Brenda Thomas, a trans woman who was a pillar in the community. After her death in 2006, Zemanek wanted the tradition to continue in her honor.

After the community center where the event used to be held closed down, Zemanek began hosting the dinner in his own Houston home. Up until a few years ago when the dinner moved to the Montrose Center, about 10 people would attend. This year, about 100 people gathered for the meal.

“The history of all of the different letters of (the LGBTQ) community has been not having places to go on the holidays,” said Kennedy Lofton, chief development officer the Montrose Center. “Specifically, our trans brothers and sisters and others are really struggling during the holidays.”

More transgender people attend the center’s support groups and utilize the counseling it offers around the holidays, Lofton said.

Hosting an event specifically for transgender people is important, Zemanek said, because often celebrations of being trans are grouped into larger LGBTQ events. While being inclusive is a positive thing, Zemanek said it’s also crucial to recognize the individual identities within that community.

There are many factors that have made building a cohesive transgender community difficult, said Kaylee Senn, who runs the center’s support group for transgender people.

“As trans folks, a lot of times, we’ll be very involved in the community right when we’re transitioning because that’s when we’re most struggling and in need of resources,” she said. “A lot of folks, those who are successfully able to transition, just sort of disappear into the woodwork and we don’t really have that much of an organized community.”

Sometimes after people transition, Senn said they may not be out to the people around them. The real threats to the lives and rights of transgender people keep many from coming out, she added.

“I do think that if there were fewer overt risks everywhere you went, then maybe we would have a more out and visible trans community,” she said. “I would love to see that day come.”

The risks are especially dangerous for black transgender women, advocates say. Most of the 22 transgender people murdered so far in 2019 in the United States were black women. Three of the women were killed in Texas and one, Tracy Williams, lived in Houston.

“When you’re out here in the community, you literally have to look around and worry about what somebody’s intention is when they interact with you,” said Atlantis Narcisse, volunteer coordinator at the center and a black transgender woman.

Another obstacle to building a community is that some may not feel that being transgender is a defining personality trait, said Senn, so they don’t feel called to build a community with other transgender people.

“For so long, there’s been trans erasure,” said Lofton. “It’s been really difficult for that community themselves to create institutions as large as the Montrose Center.”

While it’s common for transgender people to be grouped into the larger LGBTQ community when it comes to organizing, there are also silos of specific groups within the trans community, Lofton said.

“Trans women of color will meet over here, and trans men will meet here...and our Latinx unauthorized immigrants will meet over here, and there are very few events like this that bring all of those intersections within the trans community together,” Lofton said.

Asher Ritz, a transgender man who identifies as nonbinary and attended the dinner for the first time this year, said the inclusiveness of the gathering made him feel more comfortable

“As I’m more gender fluid, sometimes, I’m uncomfortable in trans men’s groups, because that’s not really who I am,” he said.

People of all ages, races and backgrounds come to the dinner to share their trans experiences together. They can find inspiration in others going through the same things they are, Lofton said.

“To have leaders in the leaders in the community that are both elders and have done this for a long time, then the next generation coming in, and have one place where they can all mix together is really important to us,” he said.

Narcisse said the dinner is a rare and deeply needed celebration.

“It seems like a lot of the narratives are about our tragedies and our struggles,” she said of transgender representation in the media and society as a whole. “I think that sometimes, we have to be cautious of what message that sends to people — that you’re only important in death. We need to empower people while they’re here.”

Derek Gaffney, a gender-fluid transgender man said the Thanksgiving potluck is a place to simply exist without judgment.

“You don’t have to explain that you’re trans,” he said. “They all automatically know the struggles you’re going through, because they’re going through the same stuff.”

Jessica Zyrie, a case manager at the center, model, transgender woman and Miller’s girlfriend, said the dinner is a space filled with unconditional love shared between people who have chosen each other.

“Knowing that so many people are not affirmed and accepted for just living in their truth, I think coming in this space and seeing the love and people cooking and parts of their own traditions and being able to celebrate, I think is really powerful,” she said.

“This lets people say say, ‘Well, I may not have spent Thanksgiving with family — my biological family — but I was able to spend it with chosen family.”