As Minnesota's first transgender state legislator, Leigh Finke knew she'd be an example and hoped she'd change misperceptions.

Then the DFL took full control of state government, and Finke raised her ambitions. She went to work on a bill to make Minnesota a safe haven as anti-transgender legislation swept the country. With help from a veteran colleague, the St. Paul DFLer started getting the bill drafted before she took office.

"That became my entire drive, my focal point," she said.

In a session loaded with talented first-year legislators, Finke stood out because of her groundbreaking status, the bills she passed and the attacks she endured.

Finke arrived every day in a statement-making style that she said was a wordless image of hope to transgender youth who may not see a path forward. Finke's hair was dyed bright pink, purple or blue. She wore a black leather motorcycle jacket over dresses and flouncy skirts. Her sleeveless tops revealed tattooed arms.

The national Human Rights Campaign estimates that a third of transgender youth live in states that have banned gender-affirming care. Earlier this month, the American Medical Association adopted a resolution supporting gender-affirming care for young people and opposing penalties for those who seek it.

"It's not new. It's not experimental," Finke said of the care. "But it is politically useful," she said, noting that conservatives have successfully pushed bans in red states.

The increasing attacks on transgender youth pushed her to run for office. "I have no intention of passing through here and leaving quickly," she said. "I'm not going to create a vacuum in queer leadership."

Before the session, Finke spoke to U.S. Rep. Ilhan Omar, the first Muslim woman in the state Legislature, about what to expect as a first. "They're going to try to make you feel alone and you're not," she said Omar told her. "It's a lie they want you to believe because then you feel powerless."

Finke wasn't alone; she had the other 11 members of the Queer Caucus, much of her party and Gov. Tim Walz, who took the lead on making the state a refuge with an executive order in early March that protected access to gender-affirming care in Minnesota.

By the end of March, the House had passed Finke's trans refuge bill, solidifying protections in law. The Senate followed in April and included a ban on conversion therapy.

Finke thought the trans refuge bill would be her biggest challenge. It didn't come close.

She signed on to sponsor a bill she initially considered a routine update to the state's 1993 Human Rights Act. It removed from the law a line that read: "Sexual orientation does not include a physical or sexual attachment to children by an adult."

The language about pedophilia was added to the act that passed 30 years ago extending human rights protections based on sexual orientation.

In the 2023 session, Human Rights Commissioner Rebecca Lucero wanted the language removed from the law because it was outdated and "wrongly prejudiced LGBTQIA+ community members by attempting to tie sexual orientation to criminal acts even though criminal acts are appropriately located in the criminal statutes," a department spokesman said.

But carrying the bill made Finke a target of the national Gays Against Groomers, a far-right group that campaigns against gender-affirming care for children. In St. Paul, Republicans seized on the issue, repeatedly accusing her and the DFL of protecting pedophiles.

"That one lie basically torpedoed the rest of my session. I was getting harassment. I was getting death threats," Finke said. She met with state troopers and Capitol security. Filters were added to her email and voicemail boxes to weed out the flood of nasty messages.

While Finke declined to single out specific legislators, Rep. Harry Niska, R-Ramsey, raised concerns about pedophilia numerous times. He successfully amended the House bill to read: "The physical or sexual attachment to children by an adult is not a protected class under this chapter."

Niska, a lawyer, said he wanted to be clear about legislative intent so the law wouldn't be misinterpreted by judges as protecting pedophiles.

"My understanding is everyone thinks that's not what the Human Rights Act should mean," he said. "I thought we could find a way to say that without giving up the goals that Representative Finke had with this legislation."

The Niska provision, however, was not in the bill signed by Walz. DFLers say numerous Minnesota criminal statutes protect children from pedophiles.

But Niska said the Human Rights Act is now open to interpretation by the courts. "I think we created ambiguity," Niska said, adding that he was not attacking Finke personally. "For me, this is about being careful in our legislative drafting."

Finke, however, said "people in the chamber knowingly spread that lie" that she was protecting pedophiles.

Sen. Erin Maye Quade, DFL-Apple Valley and a member of the Queer Caucus, said Republicans "put their LGTBQ colleagues in danger, and sometimes I think that was the point."

Finke said she felt safer outside the Capitol than in it. "You're in that dome with those people who have spent the last four months legitimately dehumanizing you to a point of erasure and eradication, and then you just have to sit there," she said.

With the session behind her, Finke's working out of her Loring Park office in Minneapolis to try to draw others into leadership with her fledgling Queer Equity Institute. Launched in March, the nonprofit aims to support and encourage up-and-coming queer politicians, and civic and business leaders.

Finke said she finds much support outside the Capitol in the community, and is invariably stopped by strangers who thank her for providing a vivid example for transgender youth.

"Everything you do is an opportunity for your community to see you," she said. "I am going to show up authentically all the time."