Meet Van Ethan Levy Âû (they | Elle)

Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Van Ethan Levy Âû (they | Elle). We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Van Ethan, appreciate you sitting with us today to share your wisdom with our readers. So, let’s start with resilience – where do you get your resilience from?

To be honest, resilience is not something I ever desired or aspired to have. It’s not a badge of honor—it’s a condition of survival. I am resilient because I didn’t die. In a world as violent and oppressive as the one we live in, if you’re alive, you are resilient by default. It’s not a choice; it’s a necessity.

My resilience is rooted in a long and painful history of abuse—personal, structural, and systemic. It exists because I’ve had to navigate white supremacy, ableism, misogyny, transphobia, homophobia, and countless other forms of violence every single day (even today). I can’t answer a phone call, go outside, or simply exist without being reminded of the ways the world was not built for me or people like me and experiencing some form of violence.

That said, what sustains me now—what allows me to keep moving—is purpose. Since I was a very young child, around three years old, I made it my mission to try and make the world a little more kind, a little more accessible, a little more just. If I can help even one person feel less alone, less erased, then that is justice. That is meaning.

My resilience, then, is not a virtue. It is a deeply painful scar. But it is also a commitment—to myself, and to others who are still here. I carry both gratitude for the breath in my lungs and grief that breathing still means enduring another brutal, painful day. I don’t romanticize that. I honor it for what it is.

Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?

Thank you for asking—it’s important to me to not just share what I do, but why I do it.

I’m Van (they | elle), a queer, non binary, trans, Egyptian, Jewish, Latine, autistic individual with dynamic disabilities. My work—and my life—has always been about survival, justice, and healing. I hold many historically excluded identities, and I’ve moved through systems that were never designed for people like me. That lived reality fuels everything I do.

Professionally, I’m dually licensed as a Marriage & Family Therapist and a Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor. I focus on creating space where people can explore, reclaim, and embody the fullness of their identities without fear of pathologization. My approach is anti-oppressive, trauma-informed, and rooted in disability justice, harm reduction, and collective care. The most meaningful part of my work is holding space for people to connected and supported exactly as they are.

Outside of therapy, I’m an educator, speaker, and organizer. I lead trainings on trans and non binary inclusion, disability justice, neurodiversity, and trauma-informed care. I’m also the founder of No More Gatekeeping, a national initiative that connects trans and non binary people with providers who offer one-time letters and assessments for affirming care—eliminating unnecessary and harmful barriers.

I wrote Exploring My Identity(ies) in 2020 and produced the documentary Do Something: Trans & Non Binary Identities in 2021. In 2022 and again in 2024, I organized the Do Something: Identity(ies) Conference, where every single person involved—from speakers to logistics—was a trans, non binary, or otherwise non cis person, and importantly, paid for their time and labor.

I’m also the Executive Director of Do Something: Identity(ies), a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that advocates for the rights, safety, and well-being of trans and non binary people. We focus on improving access to life-affirming care, offering community-rooted education, and building tools like our upcoming database of affirming providers.

In addition to all this, I serve as the Director of Behavioral Health at the Trans Health & Wellness Center, where I continue to support trans and non binary individuals in receiving compassionate, competent care.

To learn more, access past conference recordings, or inquire about trainings and resources, feel free to reach out at DiversityAndIdentities@gmail.com.

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

1. Discernment between survival and selfhood

For so much of my life, I existed in survival mode—enduring violence, systemic oppression, and erasure. One of the most powerful shifts in my journey was learning to recognize that surviving is not the same as living, and that I deserve more than endurance. Discernment helped me begin separating who I am from who I had to be to stay alive. For those early in their journey: notice when you’re surviving and when you’re thriving, and honor both. Survival is sacred—but you also get to want more than just surviving. Creating/finding joy is resistance, as is rest.

2. Refusal to assimilate

I’ve learned that being palatable to oppressive systems will never protect you. The more I tried to “fit in” to spaces not built for people like me, the more harm I experienced. The most impactful growth came when I stopped performing for institutions and started building or seeking out spaces where I didn’t have to fragment myself to be allowed in. My advice: you don’t need to become digestible to be valuable. Center your wholeness, even when the world tries to split you apart.

3. Community-rooted knowledge and interdependence

Almost everything I’ve learned that’s saved my life, or made it more livable, has come from community—not institutions. It came from people who have been made to survive the same systems I have. Whether through peer support, mutual aid, or just being held in someone else’s truth, that kind of knowledge has guided me far more than any degree. To those starting out: seek knowledge from those with lived experience, not just credentials. Trust people who speak from survival, not authority.

Ultimately, my advice is this: let your pain be sacred but never let it be your only compass. You are not here to justify your existence through resilience alone. You are here to take up space, to heal, to rest, and to imagine something beyond what we’ve inherited. That imagining—rooted in community and care—is where transformation begins.

All the wisdom you’ve shared today is sincerely appreciated. Before we go, can you tell us about the main challenge you are currently facing?

The biggest challenge I’m currently facing is the constant need to navigate and resist systemic violence while also trying to build something liberatory and sustainable—for myself, and for others. As a trans, non binary, disabled, neurodivergent person of color, simply existing in the nonprofit, clinical, and advocacy spaces comes with nonstop barriers—from underfunding, tokenization, and inaccessibility to outright transphobia and ableism.

I’m often forced to do the emotional and logistical labor of convincing institutions that our lives are worthy of protection, care, and resources. It’s exhausting, dehumanizing, and a drain on time and energy that could be spent actually serving community.

To navigate this, I focus on a few key practices:

Mutual aid and community-based models: Instead of relying solely on institutions, I work to build infrastructure rooted in interdependence and community care—like the No More Gatekeeping initiative and the Do Something: Identity(ies) nonprofit. These are spaces where our needs aren’t questioned or pathologized—they’re honored.

Creating trauma-informed, affirming spaces: Whether in therapy sessions, conferences, or education spaces, I center accessibility, autonomy, and consent—working against the very systems that create harm in the first place.

Protecting my capacity: I’ve learned that I can’t pour from an empty cup, no matter how urgent the work feels. I actively work to honor my own bodymind’s needs through boundaries, rest, and saying “no” when something isn’t aligned with my values or energy.

I don’t think we overcome systems like this alone. We chip away at them together. Every time I help someone access affirming care, every time I train a provider to do less harm, every time someone tells me they felt seen—I know the work is doing what it’s meant to. It doesn’t make the challenge disappear, but it makes it purposeful.

Contact Info:

Image Credits

@CapturedByJenise (instagram)

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