During lunch in the fifth grade, a friend of my son made a dismissive comment about another student. “He’s not really a boy,” she said, pointing at a lively boy sitting nearby. “Last year, he was a girl.”
“My mom says he’s mentally ill,” another girl added.
“Jake’s a ‘trannie,’” my son’s closest friend remarked.
“He’s transgender,” my son quickly corrected. “That means he’s a boy — he just has a girl’s body.”
“You don’t understand anything,” the leader of the group retorted. “You weren’t even around last year when he was a girl.”
“Well, I know Jake. He’s my friend. He’s a boy. He’s transgender,” my son insisted.
What they didn’t realize was that my son is also transgender.
He had transitioned at his previous school but wanted to move to a new one within the district. He yearned for a place where his birth name wouldn’t be used and where he wouldn’t be misgendered intentionally. He wanted to be stealth — to live without disclosing his identity. While the district expressed their preference for him to stay due to his friendships and support systems, we ultimately let him choose. He decided to switch schools.
After overhearing that conversation during recess, my son couldn’t finish the day. He called me, feeling too angry and depressed to focus on his studies. These were kids he considered friends, whom he thought would accept him.
“Mom, you said the school did a program last year to educate kids and parents about transgender identities when Jake transitioned. They were supposed to learn,” he said, his voice full of frustration.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
We talked about ignorance. I shared a story from my past about a homophobic teen raised in a strict Catholic household in the ’80s.
“You were a homophobe? But you have a gay brother!” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, but I didn’t know any better at 16. Luckily, I had a coach and friend, Lisa, who was a college graduate and a fantastic athlete. She helped me see that my prejudices were unfounded without shaming or angering me. If she had reacted differently, I might not have opened my mind.”
“I wanted to tell them they were wrong,” my son said, staring at his hands as we sat in the parked car.
I held my breath, worried he might have revealed his own identity. “But I didn’t. I felt disloyal to Jake.”
“You weren’t disloyal at all,” I reassured him. “You defended him, and that’s what counts.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
We live in a progressive area with a well-educated community, but until all parents take offense at their children using transphobic language as they would with racist slurs, we still have a long way to go.
But here’s the bright side: That cheerful kid, Jake, at the next table? He’s helping to educate his peers about what being transgender truly means. So is my son in the spaces where he feels comfortable being out — in our neighborhood, at his martial arts dojo, and with family. Advocates like my friend Lisa are becoming more prevalent, and most high schools now have clubs for LGBTQIA+ students and allies called Gay-Straight Alliances (GSA). The biases and ignorance of my generation are being challenged by our children’s understanding and acceptance.
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In summary, the challenges my son faced at school highlight the ongoing need for understanding and acceptance of transgender identities. Through education and support, we can create a more inclusive environment for all children.