A mother's pain and defiance: Sylvia Guerrero, mother of slain transgendered youth Gwen Araujo, faces the trial of her daughter's accused killers with anxious resolve.

When 17-year-old transgendered youth Gwen Araujo was bludgeoned and strangled to death by three men who discovered she was biologically male at a party in October 2002, her death took a heavy toll on her mother, Sylvia Guerrero. A former legal assistant, Guerrero went on disability when her daughter's body was found in a shallow grave in the wilderness 150 miles from their Newark, Calif., home in the eastern San Francisco Bay area. And while she has been active in transgender activists' protests following her daughter's death, she is struggling to put her life back together. She has lost her job, was evicted from her home, and has had her disability payments come to a halt.

The trial of the three men charged with killing Gwen Araujo began on March 15. Not long before, The Advocate talked to Guerrero about the trial and what she's learned about transgendered people.

How do you feel about the trial?

Nervous. And part of me is scared of the details. But I need to know. I'm that kind of mom. From the moment Gwen got to that party to her last breath, I want to know what happened.

I understand the past year has been difficult for you and your family.

They didn't just take Gwen that night--they took my whole life. The pain is still as intense as it was a year ago. Pearl [her oldest child] didn't work for a long time. Brandon [her 15-year-old son] now lives in Virginia with his father because he had a hard time handling this. He was in junior high when they discovered Gwen's body. One of the kids at school asked, "Is that your faggot brother they killed?" He used to get A's and B's, but his grades dropped to D's and F's.

What do you know about transgender issues that you didn't know before?

I didn't know what transgender meant. Gwen never used that word. But she knew who she was, and we were on the same page about that. We discussed the sex change she wanted, her name, all of it. But I never realized the suffering that goes with being transgendered.

When did you realize that Gwen was different from other children?

Before she was even 2. As a mother, you just know. She would always play with Pearl's Barbies, never with Tonka tracks.

How did she come out to you?

We were in our pajamas in my room, painting our toenails. She was 14. She said, "You know, I'm different. I don't feel like a boy." She said she felt like a freak, mad people always called her names. She said, "I'm not gay." I don't think at that age she knew what she was, but she knew she didn't identify with her body. I bought her clothes and makeup. I stood up for her. And I've been criticized for that, as if somehow I allowed this to happen.

What would you like other transgendered teenagers to know?

Never be ashamed of who you are. Hold your head up high and much for the stars. Love yourselves for who you are.

How do you think the media have handled Gwen's death?

Not good. A lot of what they say is wrong. She was never buried in a dress, and her tombstone does not say "Gwen." Those murderers buried her--do you think she'd want to be buried now? No. She's in a wooden urn in my home. And it says, "Gwen Amber Rose Aranjo." Amber Rose is the name I chose when I thought I was going to have a girl. On the urn there's a quote: "Fly free, our beautiful butterfly angel.