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WORK TITLE: Tomorrow Will Be Different
WORK NOTES:
PSEUDONYM(S):
BIRTHDATE: 8/9/1990
WEBSITE: http://sarahmcbride.com/
CITY: Wilmington
STATE: DE
COUNTRY: United States
NATIONALITY: American
transgender; https://www.hrc.org/staff/sarah-mcbride; tomorrowwillbedifferent@penguinrandomhouse.com
RESEARCHER NOTES:
PERSONAL
Born August 9, 1990, in Wilmington, DE; married Andrew Cray, 2014, widowed 2014.
EDUCATION:American University, Cab Calloway School of the Arts.
ADDRESS
CAREER
LGBT activist. Worked for the campaigns of Governor Jack Markell (D-DE), 2008, and Attorney General Beau Biden (D-DE), 2010; Obama White House intern; Equality Delaware, board of directors, 2013; Human Rights Campaign, national press secretary.
AWARDS:DelawareLiberal.net, Most Valuable Progressive in Delaware, 2014 list of the Trans 100.
WRITINGS
SIDELIGHTS
A progressive activist, Sarah McBride is an LGBTQ civil rights advocate. She is the national press secretary at the Human Rights Campaign, is a leading voice in the fight for issues of equality, and speaks at national LGBTQ and political events. In her home state of Delaware, she worked for the campaigns of Governor Jack Markell (D) and Attorney General Beau Biden (D) and was successful in helping to pass gender identity nondiscrimination protections in the state. In the Obama White House, she was the first openly trans woman to be an intern, and she made history at the age of twenty-five as the first trans person to address a major party convention when she spoke at the Democratic National Convention in 2016.
In her 2018 memoir, Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality, McBride explores her identity as trans woman from an early age, her years at American University where she was student body president, her decision to come out to her family and friends, her work in the Delaware state government, and her advocacy for LGBTQ rights. She realized that her story would impact other transgender people as they learn what it means to be openly transgender and to fight for full civil rights. She also talks about finding love with husband, Andrew, a trans gender man who died of cancer four days after they were married. But he still remains an inspiration to her. “Highly readable and beautifully written, hers is an inarguably important book that deserves the widest possible readership,” declared Michael Cart in Booklist.
In a Washington Post article by Leigh Giangreco, McBride explained what gave her hope for the future: “It is what I get to see every single day in my job, these young, transgender people who hold in one hand the knowledge of all of the hate that exists in the world but who hold in the other the knowledge that their identities are worth celebrating and that their lives matter.”
A Kirkus Reviews contributor commented: “Throughout, the author ably balances great accomplishments and strong emotions. Reading McBride’s inspiring story will make it harder to ostracize or demonize others with similar stories to share.” Online at the London Observer, Roz Kaveney acknowledged: “This is a good book in all sort of ways but it is clearly a campaign biography aimed at whatever her next step turns out to be, as well as promoting an embattled community’s rights. Its introduction by Joe Biden feels like an anointing, one she has earned by hard work, [and] passion.”
BIOCRIT
PERIODICALS
Booklist, February 1, 2018, Michael Cart, Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality, p. 7.
Kirkus Reviews, February 1, 2018, review of Tomorrow Will Be Different.
Washington Post, March 5, 2018, Leigh Giangreco, review of Tomorrow Will Be Different.
ONLINE
Observer Online, https://www.theguardian.com/ (April 8, 2018), Roz Kaveney, review of Tomorrow Will Be Different.
About Sarah
Sarah McBride is a progressive activist and currently the National Press Secretary at the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest LGBTQ civil rights organization. In 2016, Sarah made history when she became the first openly transgender person to address a major party convention.
A native of Wilmington, Delaware, Sarah has been involved in politics and progressive advocacy for more than a decade. She co-founded a statewide high school young Democrats organization and worked for the campaigns of Governor Jack Markell (D-DE) and Attorney General Beau Biden (D-DE). During her sophomore year of college, Sarah was elected student body president at American University.
Sarah first made national headlines when, at the end of her term as student body president, she came out publicly as transgender in the student newspaper. She went on to intern in the Obama White House, the first openly trans woman to do so, and, after graduating from college, helped lead the successful effort to pass gender identity nondiscrimination protections in Delaware.
It was during her time at the White House that Sarah met Andrew Cray, a transgender man and fellow advocate. The two fell in love and began working together in the fight for LGBTQ equality. Andy was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2014, and just days after they married, he tragically passed away. Andy’s passing instilled in Sarah a firm belief in the urgency of political and social change.
Now as a spokesperson for the nation’s largest LGBTQ advocacy organization, Sarah has become one of America’s most public voices in the fight for LGBTQ equality, culminating in her address before the nation during the 2016 presidential election. Her moving new book Tomorrow Will Be Different chronicles her journey as a transgender woman, from coming out to her family and school community, to fighting for equality in her home state and nationally, to her heartbreaking romance with her late husband.
From Delaware to North Carolina to Texas, Sarah is working to resist the politics of hate and to move equality forward.
A Teen Vogue exclusive from Sarah McBride's new book Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality
“Please don’t take this as pressure, but just as a testament to how great I think you are—I haven’t locked in any plans for tomorrow. Would you like to go out?”
Like any twentysomething girl, I was anxious about taking that next step, to go from flirting online to a real-life relationship. Despite how wonderful he seemed, I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about him. But that wasn’t why I was so nervous.
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I was nervous because this would be my first first date since transitioning, since taking the initial steps to live as Sarah. At the time, I still worried that people—even those who hadn’t known me before coming out—saw me as a walking costume.
My natural hair wasn’t in a place where I felt comfortable with it, so I was still wearing a dark wig that fell to just under my collarbone. I had been on hormones for only a few months. And while none of those things should invalidate my gender identity, I worried that Andy, even as a transgender man, would be disappointed. I worried that, to him, I wouldn’t be the woman I knew myself to be and the woman he had so clearly built up in his mind.
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But of course I said “yes.”
Our first date was on an unseasonably hot early fall evening in 2012. It was a clear night and probably slightly cooler than it felt to me due to my nerves. It was just after dusk when I stood impatiently on my front stoop for Andy to pick me up. The restaurant was only about six or seven blocks from my house, but Andy, obviously wanting to make the date feel as traditional and perfect as possible, picked me up at home.
Our chance encounter at the White House Pride Reception hadn’t registered with me, so I had never truly seen him in person, just in pictures on Facebook. As he stepped out of his spotless black Audi, I couldn’t help but be taken aback by just how suave he seemed to be in person. He was immaculately but casually dressed, clean shaven, and wearing square glasses with big black rims that can be described only as nerdy-chic.
He walked me to his car, and we took the short drive over to the restaurant, which actually was closer to his apartment than my house was, making his gesture to pick me up all the more ridiculous and sweet. We parked and walked half a block to the restaurant.
With every step, as with all my public adventures, it felt like a thousand eyes were staring at me, wondering the same question: Is that a man? Much of it was in my own mind, but some looks were undeniable.
Andy and I sat down at our table at a small tapas restaurant on the main drag of Adams Morgan, a lively, colorful D.C. neighborhood filled with restaurants, bars, and, at that time of night, young professionals beginning their drunken evening out. Our table was imperfectly situated for my insecure self, located just on the edge of the restaurant’s small outdoor patio and in the line of sight of everyone tipsily walking by.
Our server approached from behind Andy, catching a glimpse of me and making a face I had grown to know all too well, a look that might as well have included the verbal confirmation “Oh, you’re transgender.”
The server was kind and didn’t do anything out of the ordinary following the initial, subtle look, but I could tell she knew. I wondered what she thought about Andy, handsome and not “visibly transgender,” clearly out on a date with me. I could imagine her inner monologue. How disappointed this guy must be in his date.
As proud as I had grown to be transgender, I was still struggling with the same insecurities that a lot of transgender women face. The message we so often receive from society is that to be “read,” as we call it in the trans community, as transgender is an implicit and negative statement about your beauty.
Sitting there, I envied Andy. He seemed so cool and comfortable in his own skin, so unworried about the world around him. As someone much further along in his transition than I was, he carried himself with a confidence that I had not yet mastered. I did a good job of hiding the insecurity, doing my best to come off as the confident person I’d presented online to Andy.
The server took our orders and left. Andy and I continued our conversation until a few seconds later, when he stopped mid-sentence, tongue-tied, clearly overtaken by something. I braced for the worst.
“I’m sorry, but, my God, you are beautiful.”
And with that, in that moment, my insecurities washed away.
Sarah McBride
National Press Secretary
Sarah McBride is the National Press Secretary for the Human Rights Campaign.
In 2012, Sarah made national headlines when she came out as transgender while serving as student body president at American University. A native of Wilmington, Delaware, Sarah serves on the Board of Directors of Equality Delaware, the state’s primary LGBTQ-advocacy organization. In that capacity, Sarah helped lead the successful effort to add gender identity and expression to her state’s nondiscrimination and hate-crimes laws. In 2008, Sarah worked for Governor Jack Markell (D-DE) and, in 2010, for former Attorney General Beau Biden (D-DE). Prior to coming to HRC, Sarah worked on LGBTQ equality at the Center for American Progress and interned at the White House, the first out trans woman to do so.
Sarah became the first openly transgender person to address a major party political convention when she spoke at the 2016 Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia.
Sarah McBride
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Sarah McBride
Sarah McBride (2016)
Born
August 9, 1990 (age 27)
Wilmington, Delaware, U.S.
Residence
Wilmington, Delaware
Nationality
American
Alma mater
Cab Calloway School of the Arts, American University
Years active
2012–present
Employer
Human Rights Campaign (current), Center for American Progress (former)
Known for
Transgender rights activist
Political party
Democratic
Spouse(s)
Andrew Cray (m. 2014; his death 2014)
Website
Official website
Sarah McBride (born August 9, 1990) is an American LGBT rights activist and political figure. She is currently the National Press Secretary of the Human Rights Campaign.[1][2] McBride made national headlines when she came out as transgender to her college while serving as student body president at American University.[3]
McBride is largely credited with the passage of legislation in Delaware banning discrimination on the basis of gender identity in employment, housing, insurance, and public accommodations.[4][5] In July 2016, she was a speaker at the Democratic National Convention, becoming the first openly transgender person to address a major party convention in American history.[6][7][8][9]
In 2018, she released the book Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality.
Contents [hide]
1
Career
1.1
Early life and education
1.2
Activism
2
Personal life
3
References
4
External links
Career[edit]
Early life and education[edit]
Sarah McBride was born in Wilmington, Delaware, the daughter of David and Sally McBride. Prior to coming out, McBride was a campaign staffer in Delaware, working on several campaigns including Delaware Attorney General Beau Biden's 2010 campaign and Governor Jack Markell's 2008 campaign.[5] In 2011, McBride was elected student body president at American University. During her last week as student body president, McBride gained international attention when she came out as a transgender woman in her college's student newspaper, The Eagle.[10] McBride's coming out was featured on NPR, The Huffington Post, and by Lady Gaga's Born This Way Foundation.[3][11][12] After coming out, McBride got a call from Delaware Attorney General Biden, saying, "Sarah, I just wanted you to know, I'm so proud of you. I love you, and you're still a part of the Biden family." Vice President Joe Biden expressed similar sentiments, sharing that he was proud of her and happy for her. In 2012, McBride interned at The White House, becoming the first openly transgender woman to work there in any capacity. McBride worked in the White House Office of Public Engagement and Intergovernmental Affairs, where she worked on LGBT issues.[13][14] In a speech in May 2015, Second Lady Jill Biden told Sarah's story. She added, "we believe young people should be valued for who they are, no matter what they look like, where they're from, the gender with which they identify, or who they love."[15]
Activism[edit]
In January 2013, McBride joined the board of directors of Equality Delaware and quickly became the state's leading advocate for legal protections and hate crimes legislation for transgender Delawareans.[5] McBride and her family led the lobbying effort for legislation protecting Delawareans from discrimination on the basis of gender identity and expression in employment, housing, insurance, and public accommodations.[16][17] In addition to serving as the primary spokesperson for the legislation, McBride's close relationship with Governor Jack Markell and Attorney General Beau Biden was credited with getting both elected officials vocally behind the bill.[5] The legislation passed the state senate by a margin of one vote and the state house by a vote of 24-17. The amended bill was then re-passed by the state senate and immediately signed into law by Governor Jack Markell in June 2013.[18]
Upon signing the legislation, Markell stated, "I especially want to thank my friend Sarah McBride, an intelligent and talented Delawarean who happens to be transgender. She courageously stood before the General Assembly to describe her personal struggles with gender identity and communicate her desire to return home after her college graduation without fear. Her tireless advocacy for passage of this legislation has made a real difference for all transgender people in Delaware."[19]
After the passage of Delaware's gender identity protections and hate crimes legislation, McBride worked on the LGBT Progress team at the Center for American Progress.[20] McBride has spoken at a number of colleges and LGBT events, including the Human Rights Campaign National Dinner,[14] the Human Rights Campaign Los Angeles Dinner,[21] the Victory Fund National Brunch,[22] the University of Pennsylvania,[23] and Gettysburg College.[24] McBride was ranked the Most Valuable Progressive in Delaware by DelawareLiberal.net[25] listed in the 2014 list of the Trans 100,[26] and named one of the fifty upcoming millennials poised to make a difference in the coming years by MIC.com.[27] A 2015 article in the NewStatesman on transgender representation in elective office predicted McBride would be the first transgender American elected to high public office.[28] McBride was a panelist at the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development's "GLOBE Pride 2016" on youth and workplace bullying. McBride has been featured in The New York Times, The Huffington Post, The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, Al Jazeera, PBS NewsHour, Teen Vogue, North Carolina Public Radio, The New Yorker, MSNBC, ThinkProgress, Buzzfeed, and NPR.
In April 2016, McBride delivered a TED Talk titled, "Gender assigned to us at birth should not dictate who we are."[29] She also served on the steering committee of Trans United for Hillary, an effort to educate and mobilize transgender people and their allies in support of Hillary Clinton.[30]
On July 28, 2016, McBride became the first openly transgender person to speak at a national party convention when she spoke at the 2016 Democratic National Convention. In her speech, which lasted less than four minutes, McBride paid tribute to her late husband Andrew Cray and his commitment to LGBT rights.[31]
McBride serves as the National Press Secretary of the Human Rights Campaign.
Personal life[edit]
In August 2014, McBride married her then-boyfriend Andrew Cray after he received a terminal cancer diagnosis. Episcopal Bishop Gene Robinson presided at their ceremony. Four days after their nuptials, Cray died from cancer.[32]
Greatness Becomes Her
Sarah McBride On Loss, Gain, and the Brightness of Tomorrow
by Samantha Riedel
Published on March 6, 2018 at 12:02pm
Sarah McBride at the 2016 Democratic National Convention (Photo credit: Screenshot from YouTube/PBS NewsHour)
Sarah McBride is the national press secretary at the Human Rights Campaign, and in 2016 became the first openly transgender person to address a national political convention. In her new memoir, Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality, McBride opens up not only about her transition and meteoric political career, but about loving and losing her husband Andy to lung cancer just days after their wedding. The book arrives at a time when transgender rights around the country are imperiled and support among cisgender people shows signs of slowing, but its author is undaunted. Speaking to me by phone, McBride told me why she’s proud to be trans, how to wield the double-edged sword of visibility, and what keeps her hopeful in troubling times.
You and I have both lost people close to us to cancer. I lost my dad to brain cancer in 2012, so it was sometimes difficult to keep reading [about Andy’s fight with cancer] because so many of those emotions are so extremely relatable and so tough to voice. You could make the case that the passages where you’re talking about dealing with Andy’s diagnosis and the treatment and everything is at least as, if not more, vulnerable than when you’re talking about transition. Was that time difficult to relive while writing this book?
It was. So much of the book is obviously wrapped up in my relationship with Andy, and it was really difficult to relive in such detail and to write it. At the same time, though, I felt blessed and fortunate to be able to relive the positive moments in our relationship for this book, because so often we get consumed with how our loved ones passed away and the experience around their passing. And obviously that’s a large part of our relationship and certainly a portion of the book, but I felt fortunate to relive more of the positive experiences that didn’t have to do with cancer, and to really reflect on just how fortunate I am and was to have had Andy in my life.
Do you feel like you’ve gotten a sense of closure [from writing this book]?
I think it certainly allowed me to wrap my mind around the wholeness of my relationship with Andy in a way that I had not been able to before. I also think it allowed me to find lessons and draw inspiration from my relationship with him, both the positives and negatives, in a way that has helped me move forward. I still very much feel that Andy is part of my life every day, I think about him every single day, and I ask myself “what would Andy do?” with almost every circumstance. And I’m sure sometimes I live up to what he would do and sometimes I fall short. I don’t know that it brought me closure because Andy feels so present in my life all the time, it helped me work through my emotions and those experiences to draw lessons and to find, as my friend said, “the beauty in all the tragedy.”
Tomorrow Will Be Different by Sarah McBride (Photo credit: Crown Archetype)
I talk about the quote from my brother of looking around and bearing witness to acts of amazing grace throughout the last month of Andy’s life. Reflecting on those experiences have, in a strange way, allowed me to figure out how to continue to advocate from a place of urgency and authenticity in this new era of Donald Trump and so many attacks on the trans community. It has taught me that even in the darkest moments, even in the most troubling times, all of us can bear witness to acts of amazing grace. It reminded me that hope only makes sense in the face of hardship. And it gave me clarity not just in terms of my relationship with Andy and the lessons learned, but clarity in how to move forward in this new challenging era.
Right after Andy’s diagnosis, there’s a small passage about “what role his trans identity played in his disdain for feeling dependent.” And that really jumped out at me. I really thought it was a great summation of how transness can have effects on and roots in places of our lives we don’t necessarily expect [it] to. Did you draw relations and make connections you hadn’t expected before you started the book?
Yeah, absolutely. In many ways, I would recommend everyone take the opportunity to really dive in and reflect on their experiences throughout their lives. I was surprised at just how many connections and revelations I had throughout the process of writing this book. Seeing connections between seemingly unrelated events and identities that in reality, connected and interacted and complemented one another in really profound ways. And I think the paragraph you pull out is one of them. I think it goes to, particularly with my trans identity, this recognition that I’m proud that I’m transgender.
I feel like the experiences that I have had as a transgender person, the insights, the journey, have helped me become a better person, a more compassionate person, probably a stronger person than I was before. And that’s one of the reasons why our identities are so important, and why I’m proud of who I am. We are the sum of our experiences, and they interact in ways both visible and invisible every single day. I think most people don’t take time to reflect on that, and I feel privileged to have been able to have that opportunity—to see the invisible connections between experiences and events in my life.
There’s so much [trans people] have to contribute to our conversations, as a community, as a country, and as a world. As I talk about in the book, the challenges we face as trans people—the discrimination and the stigma—is a fault with society, not a fault with being transgender. And frankly, everything that is inextricably linked with my trans identity, I find to be things I wouldn’t trade for anything—whether it’s meeting and falling in love with Andy, seeing the world through new and changing perspectives, or an increasing empathy and compassion. Those are things I wouldn’t trade for anything, and what I would trade is the way society too often treats transgender people.
Your story really illustrates how trans visibility can be this double-edged sword, where on one hand our collective rights and needs are finally being discussed, and we’re making progress on some things, but at the price of being targeted for harassment and violence. And obviously, various people experience those effects in different ratios. I wondering if you have thoughts on how we can try to mitigate the downsides to visibility while pushing for those upsides?
It’s a great question, and I think one of the things the LGBTQ community has fallen into [is] this dangerous narrative of thinking that every single person needs to be out. And I think that is an unfair burden to put on an already marginalized community. In many ways, it is wonderful to be out—there’s no question that in sharing our stories, we can both find power in our voices and also help propel progress forward for our community and our world—but we shouldn’t universalize that need. We shouldn’t require that everyone live their gender identity or sexual orientation in a particular way because we think it might have positive outcomes for the movement. And so what I always try to tell folks is “you are the best expert in what you need, and what is best for you.” That may mean being out, it may mean being not being out. It may mean being out in certain circumstances. And I think we as a community need to give people the space to decide for themselves and to move forward with how they feel is best for their safety and their well-being.
Sarah McBride holding Tomorrow Will Be Different (Photo credit: Twitter/SarahEMcBride)
In many ways, I didn’t have much of a choice because I came out as student body president. I could have waited, but there was not much of a choice. People were going to notice no matter what because of the life that I had lived before my transition. But I also feel a sense of personal responsibility, which I wouldn’t universalize to everyone, that given the privileges I have, the support system that I have, to bear more of the backlash or face more than others. Because I know it’s already so difficult to be myself in this world, and I can’t imagine how much more difficult that would be when you throw in other intersecting and marginalized identities. We need to center the voices of trans folks living at the intersection of multiple marginalized identities, but I also recognize that when we universalize this narrative of needing to come out we’re putting a particular burden on those [people].
Visibility has effects on how the trans community treats you as well, and people can be blunt and decisive about letting you know when you’ve let the side down as a trans person with a platform. You’ve spoken with Danica Roem, who’s been the subject of controversy for choosing not to talk so much about trans issues on the campaign trail. Given your rapid rise to national visibility, has that been intimidating for you to contend with?
There’s no question that criticism from my own community carries more weight, and can sting more than criticism [from] outside the community. But I think it’s so important! It’s so important for people within the community, particularly those who face challenges that I don’t, to hold the most visible, the leaders, the activists within the community accountable. That doesn’t always mean that every single critique is easily adopted or even can be adopted, but that critique is always necessary and good to hear. And as important as it is, and stinging as it is, it’s part of the job.
If the worst thing I have to deal with are people telling me when I do something wrong, then I’m okay with that. I try to always remember that if somebody’s criticizing me, particularly if they’re a member of the trans community, or let’s say the disability community, or the Latinx community, or the Black community, it may be the first time I’m hearing it, but it could be the 20 time that day they’ve had to give that critique. So I always try to remember to enter the space with that understanding and recognition of my own privilege and ability to take and hear that critique. The fact that it stings more means that I need to hear it, sit with it, and figure out what those critiques should mean for how I move forward.
You’ve been involved with politics for a healthy chunk of your life, and much of it has been spent with various institutions like the Democratic Party and HRC that can hold a contentious place for a lot of [trans] people. We’re roughly the same age, and I know a lot of trans women who are around our age are a lot more radicalized and really want to push further left. How do you maintain your faith and energy in these institutions? You write in the book that a lot of this work is incremental, can be maddeningly slow, and the setbacks can be really discouraging. So how do you keep your faith in the political process we have right now?
I think there are a couple different things. My perspective on change is that we need every single pressure point to achieve the kind of change that we truly need. We need folks in politics, we need folks marching, we need folks organizing direct action. And we need people demanding change quickly, we need people demanding the more radical, we need people willing to be around the table. We need all of those pressure points to actually achieve change and move the issues we’re working on forward. I have come to realize that the skills I have and the contributions I can make are oftentimes in the sphere of politics and mainstream organizations. That’s sort of broadly speaking how I approach this work and my thinking on difference in tactics.
Kamala Harris blurb for Sarah McBride’s Tomorrow Will Be Different (Photo credit: Crown Archetype)
I think every person should approach institutions with a healthy skepticism. But what provides me hope is that I have seen organizations change. I saw firsthand the commitment of the Human Rights Campaign in Delaware, Trans Equality, I see it obviously every day in my job right now. I’m proud to work with folks I know are passionate and committed to intersectional change and trans equality. Fifteen years ago, the presence of a transgender person onstage at the Democratic [National Convention] would have been an incomprehensible thought. But obviously in 2016 I had the opportunity to stand on that stage. That is change.
As frustrated as we can be with how slow change often comes—and it is always too slow, no matter how fast it is, it is always too slow—we can never do lose track of how far we’ve come and the change we’ve been able to achieve. I talk about it at the end of the book: The fact that there are trans youth—10, 11, 12-years-old—who are living their truth and dreaming big all at the same time is a reflection of a transformational change. Something that has gone from an impossibility to a possibility to a reality. And that’s what gives me hope in this time. That’s why I continue to engage in politics when I think so many people have checked out or believe that we can’t achieve change through the political process. I believe we have seen transformational change, and we have the capacity—with the right people, the right values, and the right grassroots energy—to actually achieve the kind of change that we need.
That doesn’t mean trans kids don’t face challenges; in many ways, they face unprecedented challenges because they’re the first generation of trans youth, which means they’re facing the first generation of blatant attacks, but also because we’ve seen anti-equality politicians specifically and uniquely target trans youth. So there’s no question that there are unprecedented challenges, but it’s difficult for far too many trans youth across the country. But the mere fact that they exist today demonstrates how far we’ve come, and I think it’s important not to lose sight of that because when we lose sight of that it becomes far too easy to give up.
You used the phrase “pressure points” regarding politics, and I want to talk about a potentially thorny and uncomfortable topic because #MeToo is still rolling forward, and that’s the first thing that comes to mind for me in the current climate. People on the left are being forced to grapple with the need to address bad actors in progressive circles, and even before the hashtag, this touched your friend Joe Biden (who wrote the forward to your book) a couple years back when people were scrutinizing his handsiness on stage. I’d like your perspective for how can the left set the standard for dealing with sexual harassment and abuse going forward, when some people think Al Franken shouldn’t have resigned because we need all hands on deck?
I think that underscores a larger point: As progressives, we are too often lulled into a sense of complacency. We think that because we’re progressive, [we’re] sort of at “peak wokeness.” What’s so important for us as progressives is to always be reevaluating ourselves, whether it’s in the conversation around #MeToo, racial justice, gender equity, disability rights or LGBTQ advocacy. [We must] always challenge ourselves as much as we’re challenging the country because at the core of of being progressive, or being left-of-center or left in general, is this notion of wanting society to change.
Joe Biden being sworn in as Vice President of the United States on January 20, 2009 (Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
And we cannot ask other people to evolve if we aren’t willing to evolve ourselves and constantly be interrogating what might we be doing that might be unintentionally hurting others? Who are we leaving out? Who remains invisible even in our inclusive conversations? Progressives have to lead by example, and progressives have to be willing to grow. I think there’s also a responsibility to acknowledge when progress occurs, when people evolve and change and improve, but at the start, it does require us individually as leaders [and] activists to constantly evaluate ourselves and be willing to change.
I really try not to make everything I write about trans stuff, but we were just talking about how how transness and the themes thereof touch everything, and now we’re talking about re-evaluating yourself as a person.
Right. I mean, in many ways, I think about how much I’ve grown because of my trans identity. I think it has taught me to continue to allow myself to transition. I’ve realized throughout my journey as a trans person just how much I can learn at each step and just how ignorant I was in the previous step. At each step, being surprised at the new things I learned just underscores for me how much more there is always to learn.
In the book you reference a Maya Angelou quote that’s informed a lot of your activism: “At the end of the day people won’t remember what you said and did, they’ll remember how you made them feel.” When I read that, I remembered watching some of the Equality Delaware [TV ads], where it’s you and your parents in this very Americana-wholesome scene, where you’re essentially coming out on TV. How much of that was calculated, using that set of images and evoking those specific emotions in the people you knew were going to be watching?
It’s my parents’ living room, so there wasn’t much calculation in terms of where it was filmed. Whenever you’re messaging on something or talking about an issue, you’re picking the points you want to make when you don’t have much time. What’s clear to me is that there are two fundamental parts of advocacy that are necessary in reaching people’s hearts and minds. One is vulnerability and the other is authenticity. And you need to root your advocacy in authentic feelings and authentic goals. We do better when we ask for what we need, not what we think we can get.
Sarah McBride at the Democratic National Convention (Photo credit: Tumblr/Profeminist)
We do better when we talk about our perspective on issues, not from poll-tested sound bites, but what we’re feeling and what we want. And similarly, I think that there is power in vulnerability. Vulnerability is shared experience across gender identity, across sexual orientation. Everyone has felt vulnerable at some point, everyone has worried and wondered whether they’re good enough or if they have what it takes. Everyone’s been scared. And in articulating those hopes and dreams, those fears and those worries, you can reach people across ideologies, across geography, across identities, and build a foundation to move forward from.
In many ways, it can be dehumanizing to have to bare all in front of the public, but in other ways it can be empowering to own your vulnerability, to own the fears and the hopes and the dreams and the worries that your have. There have been moments where it’s difficult and being open about what I’m feeling has empowered me and brought me strength. But I think those two things, authenticity and vulnerability, are both necessary prerequisites and powerful tools in advocacy work.
I think the disconnect with some trans activists regarding “hearts and minds” is that can sound a little like assimilation. How would you go about balancing desire to still be ourselves and not capitulate to society, but also leverage what influence [on] people’s feelings we have?
One of the things I try to do in the book and in my advocacy is recognize that there are certain universal experiences, right? Generally speaking, the experience of being scared and the experience of worrying. Those aren’t emotions or experiences that are unique to people who conform, they cross basically all differences. And I think [we should] establish and invite people in through that, but once they’re in, utilize the conversation to articulate the power of difference.
Differences are a good thing and make this world more beautiful and interesting. So all of us come with different identities, preferences, desires, hopes, and dreams, and we don’t need or want everyone to be the same. Allowing people who have lost track of the humanity of other people to understand that we all share a common humanity, I do think that’s a first step. And I think what we need in this society isn’t just basic compassion, because so often, that’s compassion for people who are the same as us in every way but one or two. We need radical compassion, which is compassion for people who may be different than us in every single way but our shared humanity—and I think we enter through that shared humanity.
There’s a groundswell of marginalized people, including trans candidates and activists, getting involved in elections across the country. What advice do you have for other trans people who are trying to get into politics right now?
Seize the moment. Know that you are worthy, know that your voice matters, and never be discouraged by what seems impossible in that moment. If there is one thing all of us have seen throughout our lives as transgender people, it’s that in living our truth, we transformed what once seemed impossible into a reality. And if we can do it with one of the most difficult things one has to grapple with, then we can do it in running for office. We can do it in making a difference in politics, and we can do it in changing our community and our countries. Never doubt that you are worthy, never doubt that your voice matters, and never doubt that you are capable of doing something impossible.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Sarah McBride is the National Press Secretary for the Human Rights Campaign and one of America’s leading public voices in the fight for LGBTQ equality. McBride made history as the first openly trans woman to intern in the Obama White House, and to address a major party convention, speaking at the Democratic National Convention in 2016.
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About Sarah McBride
Sarah McBride is a progressive activist and currently the National Press Secretary at the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest LGBTQ civil rights organization. In 2016, Sarah made history when she became the first openly transgender person to address a major party convention.
A native of Wilmington, Delaware, Sarah has been involved in politics and progressive advocacy for more than a decade. She co-founded a statewide high school young Democrats organization and worked for the campaigns of Governor Jack Markell (D-DE) and Attorney General Beau Biden (D-DE). During her sophomore year of college, Sarah was elected student body president at American University.
Sarah first made national headlines when, at the end of her term as student body president, she came out publicly as transgender in the student newspaper. She went on to intern in the Obama White House, the first openly trans woman to do so, and, after graduating from college, helped lead the successful effort to pass gender identity nondiscrimination protections in Delaware.
It was during her time at the White House that Sarah met Andrew Cray, a transgender man and fellow advocate. The two fell in love and began working together in the fight for LGBTQ equality. Andy was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 2014, and just days after they married, he tragically passed away. Andy’s passing instilled in Sarah a firm belief in the urgency of political and social change.
Now as a spokesperson for the nation’s largest LGBTQ advocacy organization, Sarah has become one of America’s most public voices in the fight for LGBTQ equality, culminating in her address before the nation during the 2016 presidential election. Her moving memoir, Tomorrow Will Be Different chronicles her journey as a transgender woman, from coming out to her family and school community, to fighting for equality in her home state and nationally, to her heartbreaking romance with her late husband.
From Delaware to North Carolina to Texas, Sarah is working to resist the politics of hate and to move equality forward.
QUEER VOICES 03/07/2018 12:54 pm ET
Sarah McBride Reflects On Being One Of America’s Most Visible Trans People
McBride’s memoir, Tomorrow Will Be Different, hit stores on Tuesday.
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By James Michael Nichols
Sarah McBride is a force to be reckoned with.
Since coming out as transgender while serving as the student body president at American University in Washington, D.C., six years ago, McBride has lived a public life that’s helped drive the mainstream movement for transgender equality.
With her passion for politics, LGBTQ rights and fighting for a more just society, McBride has gone from the White House, to the Democratic National Convention, to one of the most influential LGBTQ advocacy organizations in the world. She was the first openly transgender White House intern and the first openly transgender person to address a major party convention. She currently serves as the national press secretary for the Human Rights Campaign.
And now, McBride is detailing her history-making journey in her new memoir, Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality.
She stopped by the Build Series on Tuesday to chat with HuffPost Queer Voices Editor James Michael Nichols about the book and her life in the public eye.
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“Everyone’s journey to coming out as transgender is different,” McBride said. “For me, I’ve know that I’m transgender my entire life. I think it’s really difficult for folks that aren’t transgender to really wrap their mind around the feeling of having a gender identity that differs from their sex assigned at birth. But for me, it felt like a constant feeling of homesickness. An unwavering ache in the pit of my stomach that would only go away when I could be seen and affirmed as myself.”
McBride’s highly emotional, even vulnerable, book also tells the story of her late husband, Andrew Cray. Andy, who was transgender as well, died of cancer just days after their wedding.
“What my relationship and his passing taught me in my work as an advocate is truly change cannot come fast enough,” McBride said. “Every single day matters when it comes to building a world where every person can live their life to the fullest.”
McBride talks with HuffPost's James Michael Nichols at Build Studio on March 6.
NOAM GALAI VIA GETTY IMAGES
McBride talks with HuffPost’s James Michael Nichols at Build Studio on March 6.
McBride had some suggestions for those who want to be allies for queer and trans people in creating a more just world. She said that allies should call and email their representatives on the issues, in particular nondiscrimination protections for trans people.
But this was her key piece of advice:
“The first thing we need allies to do is listen,” McBride said. “Come to us with a willingness to grow and evolve. You’re going to make mistakes and that’s fine, but be willing to listen and grow from those mistakes. I think that’s the most important trait an ally can have.”
Head here for more information on Tomorrow Will Be Different and check out the interview in full above.
Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality
Michael Cart
Booklist. 114.11 (Feb. 1, 2018): p7.
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2018 American Library Association
http://www.ala.org/aboutala/offices/publishing/booklist/
Full Text:
* Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality. By Sarah McBride. Mar. 2018. 288p. Crown Archetype, $26 (9781524761479). 306.76.
Currently national press secretary at the Human Rights Campaign, McBride made history when, in 2016 at the age of 25, she became the first transgender person to speak at a national political convention; no stranger to firsts, she also was the first openly transgender woman to serve as an intern at the White House. This is her story. Part autobiography, part advocacy, it succeeds beautifully on both counts. McBride first came to widespread attention when, on the last day of her term as student-body president at Washington's American University, she came out as a trans woman. It was an early step on her path to becoming an out and proud advocate for transgender persons and their rights, first in her native state of Delaware and then on a national stage. The book makes a passionate case for universal rights for the LGBTQ community, particularly for those who are its transgender members. But hers is also a highly personal love story of her growing relationship with Andy, another advocate, who was a trans man. It takes a tragic turn when, at age 28, he dies of cancer only four days after the two marry. He continues to be an inspiration for her as she remains--herself an inspiration--at the center of the continuing, sometimes uphill movement for transgender rights. Highly readable and beautifully written, hers is an inarguably important book that deserves the widest possible readership.--Michael Cart
YA: An informative and engaging must-read, not only for LGBTQ teens but for all teens. MC.
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
Cart, Michael. "Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality." Booklist, 1 Feb. 2018, p. 7. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A527771710/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=4c38d6fc. Accessed 9 June 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A527771710
McBride, Sarah: TOMORROW WILL BE DIFFERENT
Kirkus Reviews. (Feb. 1, 2018):
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2018 Kirkus Media LLC
http://www.kirkusreviews.com/
Full Text:
McBride, Sarah TOMORROW WILL BE DIFFERENT Crown Archetype (Adult Nonfiction) $26.00 3, 6 ISBN: 978-1-5247-6147-9
A brave transgender woman experiences both triumph and tragedy in this memoir of transitioning and so much more.
McBride, the national press secretary for the Human Rights Campaign, was a high school political activist well before coming to terms with her gender identity, so this mix of policy discussion and personal revelation seems to come naturally to her. What she had never expected is that she would be a widow at 24 and, two years later, become the first transgender speaker at a national political convention. The author first came to national attention in college, when, as student body president of American University, she announced first through social media and then in the pages of the school newspaper that she was transgender. She had previously presented herself outwardly as male. She was scared of rejection or even ridicule from the campus culture, but she received "a total and overwhelming outpouring of love and joy." However, McBride's earlier experience coming out to her parents had been more traumatic. Even though they were progressive and supportive of her gay older brother, they had been blindsided by her declaration. "So you want to be a girl?" asked her tearful mother, who later said, "I feel like my life is over." "I didn't want to be a girl. I was a girl," thought the author, who had felt like a girl in a boy's body since she was 10 and who had since recognized that if this were in fact a choice, it was the only choice she could make. She became an activist and eloquent spokesperson for LGBTQ legislation, the first transgender intern to serve at the White House, and an inspirational speaker at the Democratic National Convention. She also fell deeply in love with another activist, who would soon succumb to cancer, but not before they had the chance to marry. Throughout, the author ably balances great accomplishments and strong emotions.
Reading McBride's inspiring story will make it harder to ostracize or demonize others with similar stories to share.
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
"McBride, Sarah: TOMORROW WILL BE DIFFERENT." Kirkus Reviews, 1 Feb. 2018. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A525461540/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=2309d648. Accessed 9 June 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A525461540
Book World: Putting a face on the struggle for transgender rights
Leigh Giangreco
The Washington Post. (Mar. 5, 2018): News:
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2018 The Washington Post
http://www.washingtonpost.com/
Full Text:
Byline: Leigh Giangreco
Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss, and the Fight for Trans Equality
By Sarah McBride
Crown Archetype. 273 pp. $26
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On a damp February day, the first floor of the Human Rights Campaign headquarters is bright and bustling with a gaggle of kids and their parents gathered in the lobby, umbrellas and petitions in hand.
The children, both transgender and cisgender, want to deliver a letter signed by 700 parents of trans youth to Education Secretary Betsy DeVos expressing their concern about the Trump administration's position on transgender rights. When the Human Rights Campaign's press secretary, Sarah McBride, walks out of the elevator draped in a casual, fleece-lined cape with a coffee mug in hand, the group greets her like a movie star.
McBride shot to national fame in 2016, when at 26 she became the first transgender person to speak at a national political convention. Four years earlier, she published her coming-out letter in the student newspaper at American University, where she had just finished her year as student body president. Her letter became a viral sensation and launched her career as a transgender advocate.
Now McBride has published a memoir, "Tomorrow Will Be Different: Love, Loss and the Fight for Trans Equality." The book chronicles McBride's coming out, her activism and her marriage to Andrew Cray, a transgender lawyer at the Center for American Progress - and her loss of Cray to cancer just four days after the wedding ceremony. The couple were married in 2014 in front of family and friends on the rooftop of their Northwest Washington apartment. In the memoir, McBride refers to Cray in the past tense, but in person she can't help slipping into the present tense. When a mother in the Human Rights Campaign lobby mentions him, McBride responds, "He is ... " Then she pauses for a moment. "He was ... the best."
Cray pushed for legislation protecting transgender patients from discrimination, including a rule issued in 2014 by then-Mayor Vincent Gray to ensure that transgender Washington (D.C.) residents have full access to health care and transition-related care. Cray also shepherded a regulation contained in the Affordable Care Act that protects transgender patients from discrimination in federally funded health-care programs nationwide. The legislation addressed the fear McBride and Cray felt during his cancer treatment at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. Though Cray never faced discrimination during his time there, McBride hesitated to bring him into a hospital whose former chief of psychiatry, Paul McHugh, had closed down the institution's work on transition-related care and disparaged trans people.
More than three years after his death, Cray remains a constant presence in McBride's life, as the silver wedding band on her left hand attests.
"I am perpetually asking myself 'What would Andy do?' every single day and with probably every single decision I make," McBride says. That keeps the relationship intimate, she says, even though he has now been gone longer than the time they were together. "There was so much relationship and so much love in a relatively short period."
To write her memoir, McBride mined years of Facebook posts, reflected on her memories, and interviewed friends and family. Some experiences - such as her historic debut at the 2016 Democratic National Convention - were still fresh in her mind when she started writing the book in January of last year. Her fight for the Gender Identity Nondiscrimination Act of 2013 in Delaware also came back to her with surprising clarity.
Remembering her time with Cray allowed her to grieve a second time, though it wasn't the trauma from his cancer that hit McBride the hardest. Until she wrote the book, she had not meditated on the positive memories she shared with her husband. "That was really challenging," she says, "because it was such a clear reminder of who wasn't here anymore and sort of reexperiencing that feeling of loss of that relationship and that person."
Cray had joked that he wasn't "ready for this 'Walk to Remember' s---," and the couple's life never comes off as saccharine. Beginning with their meet-cute in 2012 at a White House event for LGBT pride month, this love story of two idealistic young advocates in Washington is more suited for an Aaron Sorkin rom-com than a Nicholas Sparks novel. But it does tug on the heartstrings; Cray's life was infused with facing and overcoming fear, first that society would not accept his true self and again when he battled an unrelenting disease.
Though she isn't shy about praising her late husband, McBride maintains that she isn't trying to canonize him. Like any couple, she says, the two could bicker and act insensitively toward each other. But she knew that sharing her husband's story, beyond his fight against cancer, was a way for him to live on.
"He was the best person I've ever known, and I want people to know someone who I think deserves to be known for their work, their goodness, their grace," she says.
While "Tomorrow Will Be Different" is the story of McBride's journey, she admits that the idea of writing a memoir at age 27 seemed self-indulgent or absurd at first. Yet just as she had after writing her letter at AU and advocating for transgender rights in the Delaware legislature, McBride discovered that putting a face on her cause could push her policies better than statistics.
"I think for me [the memoir] has defined the way I approach advocacy ... that at the core of this has to be personal stories," she says. "My job is not to necessarily articulate the most cogent case but rather the most compelling case, and that is done through people understanding the hopes, dreams and fears that transgender people have that are shared with really everyone."
McBride's book comes at a time when many Americans - and not just those in the transgender community - are feeling demoralized and disenfranchised. It's tempting to believe that the last election scraped away what was just a thin patina of tolerance in this country and that the night in 2015 when the White House basked in a rainbow glow was nothing more than a flicker in the darkness. But in a world where the most vitriolic voices often sound the loudest, McBride's story reveals that most people are not prone to hate.
Throughout the book, she acknowledges that her race, class, family support and political connections have often sheltered her from some of the worst discrimination other transgender people face, particularly those of color. She enjoyed a safe harbor when she came out that others often don't, particularly on the liberal campus of American University in Washington.
That's heartening, but McBride is more inspiring when she shares stories of people who accepted her when she landed outside her comfort zone. When she applied to legally change her birth name at a Delaware courthouse, McBride expected hostility from the judge and those in the courtroom. Instead, the judge honored her request with a smile, and several people in the court offered her celebratory handshakes.
"That experience with that judge, but frankly the experiences that I've had across the board, have confirmed to me that when you can put a face and a name to something, most people will do the right thing," McBride says. "When you force someone to think about something in human terms and the lives that are truly affected, most people will come to the right decision."
The young transgender children McBride met with at the Human Rights Campaign headquarters represent a new, more confident generation of activists. When McBride was writing the final chapter of her memoir, she racked her brain for what gives her hope for progress in the face of opposition. Her answer came in today's transgender youth, who, unlike a young McBride or Cray, are able to live their dreams while embracing their identity.
"What my experience with Andy underscored was that hope only makes sense in the face of hardship and that all of us can bear witness to acts of amazing grace," she says. "It is what I get to see every single day in my job, these young, transgender people who hold in one hand the knowledge of all of the hate that exists in the world but who hold in the other the knowledge that their identities are worth celebrating and that their lives matter."
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Giangreco is a Washington, D.C.-based reporter.
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
Giangreco, Leigh. "Book World: Putting a face on the struggle for transgender rights." Washington Post, 5 Mar. 2018. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A529898195/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=4844ce38. Accessed 9 June 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A529898195
Tomorrow Will Be Different by Sarah McBride review – passionate advocate for trans equality
The first openly transgender woman delegate to speak at a major US political convention tells her own story of heartbreak and optimism
Roz Kaveney
Sun 8 Apr 2018 08.59 BST
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‘Infectious enthusiasm’: Sarah McBride speaks at a Human Rights Campaign gala dinner in Los Angeles, last month. Photograph: David Buchan/Rex/Shutterstock
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t times, reading Sarah McBride’s account of her first years in politics as an advocate for trans equalities, one is forced to realise how foreign a country the United States is, particularly in the endless moral optimism that bubbles through every page. Yet the agendas of trans advocacy in both the US and UK remain the same: basic respect, often in the face of cynical misrepresentation and open hatred.
The infectious enthusiasm of McBride’s approach shames hardened hacks in the movement here, perhaps because the battle lines in the US are so clear, whereas in the UK much of the constant attempt to take away even those rights that have been gained comes from people who describe themselves as feminists and progressives yet never pause to ask why they are getting so much support from the rightwing press.
Another area of difference is in the way the US political mainstream embraces – some would say makes use of – the young. McBride was engaged in politics long before she transitioned, working on the Democrat campaign for the governorship of Delaware. She went on to be student body president at her university, where she was so popular that, at the end of her term, her announcement of her transition to an openly female identity passed off fairly undramatically and with huge support from her peers. She then proceeded to an internship in the Obama White House. Even before she transitioned, there was a sense that she was a future star simply because of that passion and this was in no way diminished by her coming out.
This part of McBride’s story is hard to read. She manages to talk about love and death without being mawkish
Much of the core of the book is a detailed account of how Delaware passed a trans anti-discrimination bill in the face of hostile lobbying by the misleadingly named Family Research Council and the occasional obtuseness of local politicians. For anyone who has ever been involved in politics, this is genuinely thrilling. It captures that sense of having to keep an eye on everything and everyone, of needing to keep your own people on side and perpetually counting the likely votes, of watching out for supposedly helpful amendments that would actually sabotage everything you are working for. The chapter is paced like a thriller, as well it might be.
In all of this, she was backed by her parents and her political mentor, Governor Jack Markell, but her principal partner was the love of her life – a young trans man she had met during her internship, Andy Cray. They dated, worked together, started to plan their future and their political careers, and then he contracted aggressive cancer from which he died four days after they got married. This part of McBride’s story is hard to read. She manages to talk about love and death without being mawkish, partly because she is aware of how like the Hollywood version of her life her account inevitably has to be. It’s a salutary reminder of how much sentimental cliches overlap with everyday experiences. Her utter lack of cynicism serves her well.
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She carries on campaigning, because it is what her late husband would have wanted her to do. In the presidential election of 2016, she knows what is at stake for the trans community – Republicans were promoting “bathroom bills” aimed at making it impossible for trans people to function in society because they’d be unable to use lavatories that tally with their identities. Trump was already indicating that trans people were one of the groups whose progress he was keen to roll back. McBride, at 25, accordingly became the first open trans woman to speak as a delegate at a major political convention.
This is a good book in all sort of ways but it is clearly a campaign biography aimed at whatever her next step turns out to be, as well as promoting an embattled community’s rights. Its introduction by Joe Biden feels like an anointing, one she has earned by hard work, passion and her survival in the face of bad luck.
What can we learn from her? Probably that social media clicktivism and even journalism are no substitute for political lobbying. If there’s a weakness here, it’s that McBride is a classic tall poppy who speaks a lot about the trans community without being especially engaged with it – she has much to say about talking to trans kids, about the future, less about long, boring arguments on committees for trans housing and health provision. That last may be a little churlish – this is a fascinating look at how progress gets made and the charm and passion that turn an American into a candidate.
Roz Kaveney is a poet, novelist and activist.
• Tomorrow Will Be Different by Sarah McBride is published by Penguin (£19.99). To order a copy for £16.99 go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over £10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of £1.99