This story is syndicated from The Central Trend, the newspaper of Forest Hills Central High School in Forest Hills, MI. The original version of the story ran here.
Today, my teacher was looking at the stickers on my computer. She stared at the one that takes up the most space: a butterfly colored yellow, black, purple and white — the non-binary flag colors — with the words “they” and “them” painted across the tips of the wings. I know she saw it, and, almost as if I had x-ray vision, I could see her holding her tongue.
Even though I carry a bag for eight hours every day with a pronoun pin for the whole school to see, my heart still races when I see people’s eyes trail along and suddenly stop on the strap of my backpack. I’m lucky no one has ever made a comment directly to me, but the things I’ve overheard somehow hurt me more.
The mentality seems to be that, if they don’t think their target is in the room, it’s suddenly deemed a safe space where they can share their thoughts and feelings without someone calling them out. Even though I want to be the kind of person who holds people accountable for their actions and the tears they undoubtedly, if unknowingly, cause, I often stay silent, becoming accountable myself, too.
“Oh, I didn’t know he swung that way.”
“Did you know she’s actually a dude?”
“I don’t get why people make it their whole personality; it’s not that deep.”
Still, I stay silent.
For some reason, people think it’s okay to ridicule and bully others when they don’t have to see the sour look on their faces or the tears that seep into the cracks of their lips. It’s easier for them that way. I find myself questioning how we’re even the same species.
When I do work up the courage and energy to deal with often uneducated, close-minded transphobes, even then, my efforts are still in vain. No matter what I say to try and dissuade them from going down the path of oppression masked in conservative beliefs, a new way to avoid the question will arise; they will say I’m being unnecessarily sensitive, and this will become their new arguing point.
It’d be one thing if the problem was only a few ignorant comments and everyone else was accepting. Much bleaker is the reality of our government — the institution designed to protect me and others to ensure our well-beings — and its sudden power to openly deny our existence.
A sickly wave of betrayal, disgust, and anger washes over me each time I think about what political officials like Trump and RFK are doing. RFK’s recent policy push at the DHHS, claiming to “restore biological truth,” completely ignores the biology of intersex individuals and undermines the entire field of medicine dedicated to gender-affirming care for trans people. This is not protection; this is endangerment. Are we not built on life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? All three are being torn apart by the values this new government claims to represent.
I only want to be allowed to exist and be happy, but both my country and the people around me are trying to prevent that.
Even though I’ve been out for almost a year now and overall have received positive reactions, all the confidence I’ve accrued is instantly null in the face of some stranger giving me a dirty look, one that they’re picking up — at least in part — from our country’s leadership.
Trump’s executive orders under the facade of women’s rights — and his threats to withhold funding from schools who recognize me for who I am — only tighten the restriction.
“My Administration will defend women’s rights,” Trump ordered, “and protect freedom of conscience by using clear and accurate language and policies that recognize women are biologically female, and men are biologically male.”
I wish that people understood that I didn’t want to be trans.
What I mean by this is that it would’ve been much easier if I could have somehow been assigned non-binary at birth, that androgyny could have been the default. I am proud of who I am, but it’s taken a long time to get to a point where I can openly talk to people about my gender identity without being ashamed. On top of all the dysphoria, insecurities, internal conflict, self-doubt and accommodations, the added factor of bigotry is just too much sometimes; it’s hard enough accepting myself as trans, so it’s exhausting on top of that to have to justify and explain my existence to the federal government or a pair of wandering eyes.
So here’s a PSA to all the cisgender people: try your best to understand the trans people around you.
We all have enough to worry about and deal with, apart from your asking intrusive questions.
Yes, cisgender people still have a gender and a unique gender expression and pronouns.
Yes, non-binary is under the trans umbrella. No, not everyone who is non-binary identifies as trans.
And don’t ask people their dead name, if they’ve had surgeries, “what they are,” or if they’re just asking for attention — they’re not.