This “Life Stories” profile is part of a collection of articles remembering Vermonters who died in 2025. Testifying in front of the Vermont legislature in 2017, Brenda Churchill made a matter-of-fact case for why a law should be passed requiring all single-occupancy bathrooms to be marke d as gender neutral. “It is just good business to provide a neutral place where people of any gender can take care of their most basic human needs,” said Brenda, who had begun living publicly as a transgender woman at age 56. “This bill applies to everyone and hurts no one.” After coming to advocacy later in life, Brenda was driven by an abiding belief in treating all people with dignity and respect. At a time when activism could often feel performative, she operated with “no pretense,” said Keith Goslant, who served alongside Brenda as a legislative liaison for the LGBTQIA Alliance of Vermont. “She had a sense of compassion for those around her,” Goslant said, and always thought about how she could improve the “mundane, everyday details of life” for others. That work was the focus of her later years, until Brenda died unexpectedly of natural causes on January 13 at age 67. Born outside Syracuse, N.Y., in 1957, Brenda was close to her father, whom she called “Pa,” and spent lots of time outdoors, fishing and hunting with him. She studied forestry at Syracuse University and moved to rural Enosburg Falls in 1989, initially to help a friend who was opening a manufacturing company in St. Albans. Brenda was married three times prior to transitioning and had two adult children by that point. She waited to transition because she was afraid of losing family, friends, her job and her home, she said in 2017 legislative testimony in support of a resolution against hate crimes. But when she came out, her worries did not materialize — which she credited to living in a state with strong protections for transgender residents. Brenda at Gov. Phil Scott’s bathroom bill signing Credit: Courtesy Goslant met Brenda after the 2016 election, when a coalition of LGBTQ-focused organizations began meeting regularly to figure out how to respond to the incoming Trump administration. Though Brenda, who was recently retired from a career in customer service at FairPoint Communications, hadn’t done much advocacy work, she was motivated to preserve protections for LGBTQ people in Vermont, given the hostility at the federal level. She jumped right in. Her knack for walking into a room and quickly connecting with strangers was “astounding and inspiring,” Goslant said. Starting in 2018, she also set up an “Ask Me Anything” stand at farmers markets around the state to provide passersby with information about the transgender community that was grounded in her own experience, Goslant recalled. “Being the first at anything opens doors for those who follow.”Brenda Churchill She was funny, too. When Goslant told Brenda that he thought she should be the “face” of the bathroom bill as they tried to build support in the legislature, she quipped, “I’m not sure that was the look I was going for.” Brenda’s political engagement was wide-ranging. She lobbied administrators at the Vermont Department of Motor Vehicles to allow people to denote a third, nonbinary gender on their driver’s licenses, a change that was made in 2019. She also worked to pass a law allowing Vermonters to amend their gender identity on their birth certificates. She happily took on the grunt work of municipal government, too, serving as a selectboard member, zoning administrator and justice of the peace in Bakersfield. In 2022, she was appointed to the Vermont Commission on Women, a nonpartisan advisory group, by House Speaker Rep. Jill Krowinski (D-Burlington). “Being the first at anything opens doors for those who follow,” Brenda said at the time of her appointment. “I am grateful to be the first transgender woman commissioner to open that door. It is up to all of us to hold them open.” Brenda Siegel and Brenda Churchill Credit: Courtesy In 2022, Brenda ran unsuccessfully to represent Franklin County in the legislature. Her odds in that race, as a Democratic candidate running against an incumbent in a Republican-leaning district, were not good, said Jim Dandeneau, former executive director of the Vermont Democratic Party. Still, “she knocked on a ton of doors, talked to a ton of people and really put herself out there in a fearless way,” he said. Brenda also worked to recruit other Democrats in Franklin County and LGBTQ candidates across Vermont to run for state office. Christine Hallquist, executive director of the Vermont Community Broadband Board, said Brenda reached out to her in 2015, after Hallquist announced in the media that she was transgender. At that time, Brenda had not yet transitioned publicly. The two became fast friends, bonding over their love of craft brews and downhill skiing. In January 2018, Hallquist said, the two attended a youth rally in Montpelier and were both moved by a performance by Muslim Girls Making Change, a quartet of young women who spoke out about the Islamophobia they faced. Brenda had been needling Hallquist about running for governor; after hearing the powerful performance, Hallquist decided to throw her hat in the ring. Later that year, she secured the Democratic nomination, becoming the first transgender candidate in the U.S. to be nominated for a governorship by a major political party. Brenda became a volunteer on Hallquist’s campaign, then was hired as outreach director, driving Hallquist to engagements across the state. The pair, who were about the same age, were often mistaken for each other, Hallquist said. They joked that the confusion was good for both of them. “I said … ‘As long as we do a good job, we get credit for each other’s work,’” Hallquist recalled. Hallquist said that, even later in life, finding a partner was important to Brenda. While visiting family in upstate New York, Brenda walked into a brewery in North Syracuse in 2022 and struck up a conversation with Sarah Chapman, a bartender more than two decades her junior. The two soon fell in love. They enjoyed trying out local restaurants and watching movies cuddled up on the couch. During their years together, Sarah said, Brenda spent lots of time tending to her elderly parents, who both died in 2024. Sarah described Brenda’s mother and father, who’d adopted her as a baby, as loving, open-minded people who weren’t phased when their son became a daughter. Sarah Chapman with Brenda Credit: Courtesy Brenda’s style leaned girly, Sarah said. She had a collection of wigs in different colors and cuts, loved beaded bracelets, and wore butterfly stretch pants and a purple sweatshirt emblazoned with the word “Princess” in glitter. Sometimes Brenda worried about being “presentable” as a woman, Sarah said, but “to me, she was the most beautiful human I had ever met.” Brenda’s hobbies were eclectic. She was part of a community of Jeep enthusiasts, or “Jeepers,” who meet up for off-road adventures. She was a skilled skier who, in her younger years, taught lessons at Smugglers’ Notch Resort. She loved action movies, techno music, the color orange, chicken wings and beer — predominately IPAs but the occasional sour in the summer and stout in the winter, Sarah said. After Brenda died, two memorial services were held: one at Van Hassler Brewing in Liverpool, N.Y., and another at Zero Gravity brewery in Burlington. Though Brenda split her time between Bakersfield and Syracuse, her heart was in the Green Mountain State, Sarah said. “She loved — and I mean this with a capital L — loved Vermont,” Sarah said. It wasn’t just the state’s coffee, maple syrup and beer that enamored Brenda but also its creative spirit and liberal politics. “Vermont is a state that has often shown the rest of the United States where to go and how to get there,” her email signature said. Brenda Siegel, executive director of End Homelessness Vermont, met Brenda Churchill during a 2018 candidate boot camp through Emerge Vermont, an organization that recruits and trains Democratic women to run for office. “The Two Brendas,” as Brenda called herself and Siegel, bonded during their time advocating in the Statehouse. “She just had a kindness and a belief in the Democratic Party, Emerge, the power of really caring for one another,” Siegel said. “Her friendships … were extremely genuine.” Brenda also volunteered at Outright Vermont, an organization that supports queer youths, serving as “a visible trans elder in a state where folks, especially transfeminine folks, were not always seeing a lot of [trans]adults who were thriving and living their lives,” said Dana Kaplan, the organization’s executive director and a transgender man. “She was such a fierce and approachable advocate … a humble leader [who] was never the loudest voice in the room but had a really clear perspective, was capable, deeply consistent and would always follow through,” Kaplan said. “She was such a people person, and that helped her get into rooms where things were happening.” For Brenda, standing up for others came naturally. Interviewed on a public-access TV program in 2017, Brenda shared an Alice Walker quote that she said hung on her refrigerator and served as a mantra: “Activism is the rent I pay for living on this planet.” The post Life Story: Activist Brenda Churchill Was a ‘Fierce’ Advocate appeared first on Seven Days. ...read more read less