PHOTO ESSAY: A young trans woman's journey, and her latest destination: World Pride in Washington

WASHINGTON (AP) — As they get ready in their hotel room, Bella Bautista trades makeup tips with the roommate she has just met.

Bautista, her cheekbones high and her confidence glowing, asks her roommate to curl her highlighted hair in the back. Jae Douglas obliges cheerfully.

Bautista, 22, is a college cheerleader turned pageant contestant. Last month, she competed in the Miss Supranational USA pageant in Miami, representing Tennessee. She hails from Cartersville, a small Georgia town north of Atlanta. She works as a social media intern for the Global Trans Equity Project.

She has come to Washington, D.C., to attend World Pride activities in the wake of the Trump administration's policies legislating against gender-affirming care and its rhetoric against transgender girls in sports. During a speech she delivers to the trans community she announces what could be the anthem for her audience: "I'm not asking for permission to be who I am, I am who I am."

Bautista says she is the first and only transgender woman to compete in the Miss Supranational pageant. It is part of a lengthier process of embracing her identity — both within herself and to the world.

Marching in an impending rain with a hundred others from the National Trans Visibility March, en route to the Lincoln Memorial to join the World Pride rally, Bella reflected, “I’m not fighting for myself anymore. I’m fighting for a larger cause alongside other people, which is good for a change. You know, being the only transgender person from my small town, it’s different to be in the capital of the USA. But so many people that are also fighting alongside with me are here, and have that same struggle.”

“In previous years, I felt more compelled to live my life stealth,” Bautista says. “But with everything going on with the current administration, I felt the need to give an actual face to the issue.”

And so she has come to World Pride, determined to be present and to fly the flag of who she is.

Coming out was a process

When Bautista transitioned during her senior year of high school in 2020, there were many pro-Trump demonstrations by students at her school during school hours. So she started a “diversity club” to create a safe place for LGBTQ+ students and students of color.

“I came out to my mom when I was 13, and I asked her, “Am I a girl?′ She said she didn’t know — ‘That’s something we need to look into.’ I didn’t know what being trans meant or anything like that. I’ve always been flexible with my gender and sexuality.”

Puberty was an upsetting time for her, before she was able to access gender-affirming care. “Having male hormones in my body gave me a lot of anxiety, dysphoria. And I felt that testosterone was going to destroy my body,” she says. With her family’s assent, she ordered hormones online and medically transitioned at 17, during her senior year.

As a gamer, she chose the name “Bella” online. It stuck.

“When I went to college I chose that name and told people, ‘Hi, I am Bella, I’m a woman.’ And I was stealth. No one on campus knew I was trans at the start. I just really wanted to live a normal college life, be a normal college girl.”

But things changed during her second year at college. She awakened to all the “harmful stereotypes” — and realized she could use them to help others.

“People would say that I don’t look trans, I don’t sound trans, so for me to be openly trans, it gives people more perspective,” she says. “I’m a normal college girl. I’m a cheerleader. This is what I look and sound like. It really resonates with both political parties.”

This past winter, she decided to testify at the Georgia State Capitol about her experience as a young trans woman athlete. It was illuminating for her.

“I had to speak in front of Republican members and I would run into them in the hallways or the elevators, or outside the bathroom, and they’d say, ’Oh, you’re testifying against my bill but you’re amazing, I loved your speech. Politicians politicize trans rights to gain votes. A big part of my platform is saying that my trans identify is not a political agenda for either side.”

She later began an organization called “This Does Not Define Me,” referring to her experiences with PTSD, a speech impediment, being Mexican American and fighting trans stereotypes. The organization is about visibility — and a sense that the challenges faced by people, especially within the trans community, shouldn’t define them.

“I hope that as more people meet me I put them at ease,” she says, “and I get more empathy for the trans community. As people have more interactions with trans people they’ll realize we are just normal people, with dreams, and this just happens to be my story.”

She dreams about the future, but is right here in the now

Bautista’s own journey has defined her in many ways, though, including her professional aspirations. She hopes to become a civil rights attorney, to stand up for marginalized people, and someday to run for public office in Georgia.

That’s later, though. Now, in a climate that doesn’t always accept people like her, there is power in just being who she is.

“I think the most powerful thing that I can do right now as a young trans woman is to educate the populace that this is my experience and that I am so much more than just being trans.”

Back at the hotel, ahead of attending a conference for the National Trans Visibility March, Bautista has Douglas take a video of her striding through the lobby in a gold gown. It’s for her Instagram feed. A family with two young children stops her. “Are you a model? Where may we have seen you before?” Bella smiles demurely and says, “Oh, I’m a pageant girl.”

She turns to a visitor. “I get that a lot,” she says.

Coming to World Pride from a hometown where she’s the only trans person is raising some questions for Bautista. Is allyship enough? Are gay members of the community fully backing trans rights? “It really feels like it’s LGB and then T,” she says. “We are going through so much. I am hoping these people waving the gay flag are also considering what we are going through at this time.”

Add onto that her identity as a Mexican woman and — with the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown on many fronts — there is still more she wants to advocate. So much more to do.

Bella Bautista was silent for a while. No longer.

“It feels good to represent … something bigger and to be proud of that,” she says.

“I kind of want to be like, ‘I’m here,’ you know?” she says. “I’m just a normal college girl, I’m a cheerleader, I do pageants, and I happen to be trans, but that does not define my ability to succeed. Being trans is part of who I am, but I still deserve access to those dreams.”

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This is a documentary photo story curated by AP photo editors.

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Jacquelyn Martin is an Associated Press photographer based in Washington.