There aren't many safe spaces in Prince George for Milan Halikowski, but it's still better than it was a few years ago.
The 13-year-old has story after story of hateful terms tossed his way - faggot, he-she - and more subtle forms of exclusion by both adults and classmates simply for being who he is.
Life can be a constant exercise of outing himself or having others out him as a transgender boy, though the "F" for female on his birth certificate bears no meaning on who he is, and how he identifies himself.
Milan has made it his mission to simply be himself, and this year at Prince George Pride, he's being recognized for his unapologetic visibility, which includes speaking to local doctors about trans issues, telling his story at advocacy events and even opening his life up to Vancouver documentary filmmakers.
During July Pride Week, Milan will become the fourth recipient of the Phoenix Award, handed to someone who embodies strength, beauty, rebirth and inspiration.
"It felt like my hopes for making a change in this city are actually working," says Milan.
"It just makes me feel good that people are starting to notice."
When Milan was pulled from school for more than a year due to the violence and bullying, his family found very little support for transgender youth in the community.
"That's why I want to make a change so that if people live up north they don't have to travel all the way down to Vancouver to get resources and education and help," he says. "I want to make it so that this city is more accepting and educated."
He started at a new school in May 2014, and he said it's been better. Now, the comments are mostly behind his back but he has a much larger support network.
"It's amazing just a little place, a school can make your life miserable. Even if your home life is amazing like mine was," he says.
"I want (Prince George) to be a place where people can change their opinion and change their mind and not have any backlash, even have a safe space to meet or hang out."
Valentine Crawford, president of Prince George Pride, says gender identity is a common area for discrimination.
"Milan's struggle being what it is, is definitely where the pride movement is going and he's been inspirational to a whole lot of people at such a young age doing what he's doing," says Crawford.
"It's unbelievable."
What Milan's mother Lynnell Halikowski finds unbelievable is his capacity for hope.
"Milan still believes in people and goodness and that is one of the most amazing things. The bullying is from adults mostly, it really is."
Across their dining room table, Lynnell addresses him: "Despite all of that you have such a good heart, such an open, loving heart."
"I don't want to give up," says Milan in a joking tone.
"That's what he always says," Lynnell says.
"He's never given in. I've always been accepting but I didn't know what trans was. He's just never caved and it didn't matter what it cost him and it's cost him."
Its cost the family too. Milan's little sister is bullied. Lynnell left work as a sexual assault counsellor to care for Milan when he was out of school and hasn't yet returned.
She knows it's the support that makes the difference in the "alarming" statistics for the dangers transgender people face on a daily basis.
A 2011 Egale Canada study surveyed 3,700 students and found 90 per cent of trans students hear transphobic comments daily or weekly and a quarter of those comments come from teachers.
One quarter of trans students reported being physically harassed and 78 per cent said they felt unsafe in schools.
According to TransPulse, an Ontario research group, 22 to 43 per cent of transgender people in Europe, Canada and the U.S. say they have tried suicide.
Similarly, they face higher rates of violence, poverty, police violence among other barriers, according to the U.S.-based Human Rights Campaign.
Despite the development of the School District 57's LGBTQ Policy in February 2014 and a part-time inclusivity teacher, Lynnell is critical of the district's approach.
"There really isn't any trans-specific language," says Lynnell, who is frustrated by the lack of consultation with parents and trans groups.
The family is also involved in a class action complaint with the B.C. Human Rights Tribunal asking that gender be removed from birth certificates.
Lynnell can't say much about the case but argues the document needlessly outs a person any time it is presented.
In Milan's case, he's had to provide it to join school sports, so despite loving basketball and swimming, he isn't on any teams.
Lynnell has watched her son grow less passive about his rights in the face of ignorance, but still there are times when he doesn't know what to say.
"It's just hard to make other people who are older than me, who should know this, understand," says Milan, whose ideal world would be one without the need to categorize.
Like the other day at the pool, when he was turned away from the family change room, where Milan felt safer.
He could have said he was transgender, but to Milan's mind, he shouldn't have to.
"I didn't know what to say. I just felt really powerless in that situation."
And so he left. But, Lynnell won't let these things slip. It might seem small, she says "but it isn't."
"I'm sick of the conversation," she says.
"It's an everyday experience."
She'd like to see a provincial policy that addresses trans rights.
Protection for gender identity only exists in six provincial human rights codes, according to Trans Equality Society of Alberta. B.C. is not one of them.
"Every single parent shouldn't have to fight every school district and every city hall and every pool," Lynnell says.
"It's a human rights issue."
** For more on Milan, read a July 2014 Citizen story "He is Milan"
