Before you see transgender, see someone’s baby.

My name was Sophie.

On September 11, 2026, I was gunned down near 24th & Calvert Streets in Baltimore. A life that should have had decades left was suddenly over.

Now, instead of planning my future, my loved ones are planning my funeral.

Imagine being the mother who once picked out her baby’s first outfit—and now has to choose what her child will wear for the last time.

That pain has no gender.

A mother’s tears don’t fall differently because her child was transgender. A family doesn’t hurt less because their loved one was different.

When you bury your child, you bury a piece of yourself.

Transgender people know what it feels like to be stared at, rejected, threatened, left behind, or afraid simply for existing.

But we still dream.

We still love.

We still belong to somebody.

Sophie deserved another birthday. Another laugh. Another chance to fall in love. She deserved to grow old.

Please help us give Sophie the homegoing she deserves. Donate if you can. If you can’t, share her name until the nation hears it.

SOPHIE WAS SOMEBODY’S CHILD.

SOPHIE WAS LOVED.

SOPHIE DESERVED TO LIVE.

AND SOPHIE SHOULD STILL BE HERE.