A Light in the Dark

For anyone not familiar with the reference I made in my coming out letter, Leelah Alcorn was a 17 year old transgender girl who killed herself just outside of Cincinnati (which is where most of my extended family lives) on December 28^th. Her death deeply troubled me. When I first read about her, the next day, December 29^th, 11 AM, before I even processed it, tears were streaming from my eyes. The same thing happened to me last night. I was on the phone with my parents. They were telling me about their last PFLAG (Parents, Families, Friends, and Allies United with LGBTQ People) meeting. The transgender daughter of one of the women at the meeting had committed suicide around Christmas Eve. Before I heard any details, tears were down to my lips, carrying my mascara with them. I thanked them for listening to and supporting this woman and kind of heard some more of the details, but I was daydreaming. I was wishing I could somehow seek out every single troubled trans-person, give them a huge hug, and then tell them that (if they wanted), I would from then on stay with them and we could just be different together. It just made me so sad. It put me in a pretty bad funk.

But then I started reminding myself of my experiences in the past two days. It all started yesterday at lunch, when the server rang me up (after taking my name [B] and seeing my appearance), she must have realized that I might not be cisgender, because when she said "thank you," she almost said "sir," but caught herself and said "my friend." I don't at all mind being called sir (when I am presenting mostly masculine), but I was so impressed and happy with her subtle gender consciousness! But then it got even better…

On December 29^th, at about noon, tear streaks still on my eyes, I sat in my old crappy green armchair in my basement “Media Room,” listening to Sufjan Stevens, staring off into space. Then I decided something. I was going to do it. I was coming out to everyone, the next day. I was doing it. I was done hiding myself. I realized that the easiest and biggest thing I could ever do to help other trans people was to be out. Being out meant challenging people’s expectations of trans people and of gender in general. Rejecting and undermining the gender system (for me) requires being a certain person and being willing to stand-up to, or at very least put up with ignorant bullshit from people who feel so insecure with their own genders that they cannot stand the thought of having to question the system that has “worked” for them so far. Or they are incredibly attracted to trans people and hate us because we make them question their sexuality.

Just a little earlier, I read through all the details of Leelah’s death and suicide note. In her note, she specifically called for gender education, beginning in grade school. After all, ignorance is what leads to hate. This stuck with me. At some point, I was thinking about it and realized that even most undergrads wouldn’t receive proper education about gender. And that is something I can actually address. I later e-mailed the professor of the course I am TA'ing and asked if I could run my sections a little differently and actually address gender, and my gender, as a teaching tool.

I was more than a little nervous when I did it for my first section, but when I covered everything else, I just jumped into it. I explained the difference between sex and gender. I even gave a short explanation of why sex is actually a spectrum itself (that is a discussion for another post). I then explained why gender roles probably first arose (from very innocent and intelligent reasons), but then how gender roles have changed over time and are very culture-specific. I pointed out that many people (particularly men) have specifically (or accidentally) attempted to define gender roles in order to maintain dominance over another group (generally women [or trans people]). I talked about how gender hurts both modern boys/men and girls/women and how almost everyone in the class was probably unfairly restrained/hurt by gender roles. I ended the speech by saying this: "If anything I have just told you about gender or about myself bothered you in any way...good. It means you were listening and thinking. I want you to keep thinking about that and try to figure out why you feel like that. Why does it bother you when someone does something different that doesn't even vaguely directly affect you? And I don't just mean trans people.  Think about people you judge...I judge people all of the time. Judging people can feel so good, and to some extent, it's kind of natural. Prejudice [Prejudice literally mean "Pre-Judgment"] against other groups probably began as soon as there were enough humans/earlier hominins to have other groups (i.e. always). But just because you naturally judge people doesn't you should treat those people any worse. Break down why you judge them. Is it their fault if they were brought up different, look different, act different, or love different? Even if it is their fault, does what they are doing hurt you? And even more importantly, consider that those people have probably been hurt by your group (people like you who would naturally judge in a similar way) a bunch of times. Just think about all of this. Come talk to me if you want. Even if you are transphobic and hate me for being me, if you are actually willing to think about it, I will happily talk with you! Think about why it bothers you when someone, particularly a trans person, breaks arcane social rules that actually constrain not only them, but you."

Somehow, in each section, I was able to explain all of that in about 10-15 minutes. And by about halfway through each speech, about half of the class was noticeably nodding along. By the end, almost three-quarters of the class was nodding along, looking deep in thought. After all three sections, I had at least one student come up, shake my hand, introduce themselves, and thanked me for giving that speech. One student even used the word "inspirational"! And told me that I should give that speech everywhere, particularly in elementary schools. They listened. And at least a few of them got something out of it. And in the long run, it might make a difference. This was the first teaching experience when I truly felt like I was making a positive difference in both the world and in the lives of my students. And that was inspiring for me. At the very least, if I stay in academia, I can probably reach hundreds of students every year. For one of the first times in my life, I (at least briefly) felt fulfilled. But even more than that, I felt hope. While everyone close to me is super positive, trying to get them many of them to understand gender feels like trying to teach a cat algebra. And it depresses me. Quite a bit. But here were 75 students, most of which seemed open, receptive, and understanding about gender...and a few who even seemed passionate. I know that I am in California and my students may not be representative of the country, but (also for the first time), I felt hope about the future social accomplishments of our youth. If you present it in a well-rounded and positive way and when you present it before people become set in their ways, people can actually be very receptive to understanding gender and accepting trans people. It'll take time. But I now at least have hope.