Testimony

Testimony by MARQUISE BROWN, Chicago, IL

Going to college has always been a dream of mine—but it almost became a dream deferred. As a 16-year-old sophomore I came out as gay to my aunt, who was my guardian, and she kicked me out of the house. I didn’t get to take my belongings, and I wasn’t wearing anything but my underwear. But thanks to the support I’ve received from other family members and the community at my high school, I’ve continued to pursue my goal. This fall, I’ll be heading to California to start my freshman year at Pomona College.

I didn’t always live with my aunt. My biological mother is a cocaine addict who abandoned my siblings and me to my grandmother’s care. As a child, my grandmother talked to me about going to college. Although I didn’t fully understand what college was and how could I get there, she instilled in me the understanding that it would make me a better person and provide lifelong benefits. Even though she had never gone to college herself, she was determined that I would have the opportunity. Unfortunately, in February 2005 my grandmother got really sick after fighting lung disease for years and had to be hospitalized. Before she left in the ambulance, she assured my siblings and me and told us not to worry, that everything was going to be okay. She never returned.

After my grandmother passed, at first I wanted to give up on everything. Then I realized that doing so would disappoint her, so I decided to focus my grief and use it to motivate me to achieve. My siblings and I were left in the care of my aunt, who filled out my application for GCCP. Everything was going well for me at home and at school until I began to find my identity and gained the courage to express myself as a homosexual male. I refused to accept my aunt’s religious beliefs about homosexuality as my own, so she evicted me from her home, calling me vicious names like “freak of nature” and “faggot” as she put me out early one summer morning.

I knew there were consequences for standing up for your beliefs, but I never thought I’d lose the place I’d known as home since sixth grade because of who I am. Full of anger and despair, I walked a few blocks across our neighborhood to my sister’s house. Despite having two children of her own and another baby on the way, my sister welcomed me into her home. It was a relief to finally be able to be myself, but I also had to grow up fast.

Living with my sister came with unlimited amounts of freedom—I was allowed to hang out with friends and attend parties whenever I was invited, and I didn’t have a curfew—but for the first time in my life I had to support myself financially. Although I wanted to stay out, shop, and party with friends, it was up to me to pay for my clothes, shoes, and phone bills, and maintain my grades without someone telling me to do my homework or get up and go to school.

The support of my teachers, school, and peers also helped me stay on track. GCCP supported me not just as an occasionally homeless LGBTQ teen, but as a person and as a student. The school has always been a safe place where my peers and I don’t have to hide who we are. I’ve been able to focus on my academics, and I’ll proudly graduate as the valedictorian. I’m also a senior class representative for student council, a member of my school’s National Honor Society, and one of my school’s first male cheerleaders. In addition to actively recruiting boys for the cheerleading team, this year I helped create GCCP’s student-led Gay Straight Alliance, which organized our first annual National Day of Silence. Both students and staff members chose to remain silent for the day in recognition of LGBTQ individuals who are continuing to live without the ability to express themselves.

I’m ecstatic about attending Pomona, and I plan to major in biology and focus on genetics. I’m also glad I can set an example for my younger siblings and other GCCP students: You can be proud of your identity, overcome life’s challenges, and make your dream of going to college come true.

Published by GOOD, 5/31/12

Testimony by SHAY, Age 12, Western Montana

My journey began as a small child. I have always known I was different and felt I was living in the wrong body. In the first grade, I was taking karate classes and remember feeling awkward changing in the boys’ dressing room because I felt I didn’t belong in there. I remember also feeling awkward in the boys’ gymnastics class.

As early as I can remember I was drawn to girl things. I wanted to wear girl’s clothing starting in the 3rd grade. I had a pair of white capris that I wanted to wear all the time. In the 4th grade, I began to tell people that I wanted to live as a girl, and by 5th grade I was obsessed with shoes and Lady Gaga. My family saw Lady Gaga in concert in Las Vegas last year, and my parents let me wear feminine clothing and make-up. I wore a great pair of high heels that I spent all of my savings on!!

Growing up, there were problems within my family, mainly because my dad felt like I needed to be a boy. He blamed my mom, my grandma, my aunt, and my cousin for my gender differences. When I wanted to wear nail polish at 4 or 5 years old, my mom would always defend me when my dad got upset. I felt confused, angry, sad, and overwhelmed because I wasn’t able to be who I was without causing arguments and hard feelings in my family. My mom finally made an appointment with a family counselor in February 2011, and we have been going to counseling as a family ever since. The counselor told my parents that I am “gender non-conforming,” and that is the place we began working from.

Last year, when I was 11, the counselor suggested my family attend a conference in Seattle for families with transgender and gender non-conforming kids called Gender Odyssey. I attended several teen workshops with my mom. My dad went to mostly dads’ groups. That weekend I decided to transition and began living as a girl full time. My dad was transformed at Gender Odyssey by the information he learned and the other parents. He was so affected that now he is one of my greatest supporters. My mom, who has always supported me, had a more difficult time because we were so close. She had a more difficult time than my dad did grieving the loss of her son. My mom remains one of my best friends and greatest supporters.

When we returned home from the conference, we had a lot to do to organize my new life in terms of school, my acting class, and telling family, friends, and others about my decision to transition. We had a gathering at our house of family and friends to discuss my decision and ask them to call me by my new name and gender pronouns. My parents met with my school, and the staff was worried but supportive. The bullying I have experienced has been difficult, overwhelming, and hard. I try to focus on school work instead of what people are saying about me.

On the bright side, I have a wonderful group of friends who are very supportive and defend me. I have one friend who is bullied just as much as me, but for other differences like her weight. We try to be there for each other and it is nice to have a good friend in the same class.

Published by the Pride Foundation, 5/25/12 

Testimony by LYLA CICERO (www.UnderCoverintheSuburbs.com)

I frequently find myself thinking ‘If only you were born now,’ while working with middle-aged people. The few times I actually say it out loud, it’s painfully clear how unhelpful it is. A few days ago I found myself trying to explain the concept “genderqueer” to a married, middle-aged natal male who identifies as transgender. He was saying he feels part male and part female, not female enough to have re-assignment surgery and transition, but not male enough to continue to pass as male. He continues to identify as male for lack of a better option. I recall saying something along the lines of “all the college kids are doing it.”

To at least a certain subset of 20-year-olds, this man’s problem wouldn’t be perceived as a problem at all. Identities including “both male and female,” “neither male nor female,” “third gender,” “non-gendered,” and “androgynous” have become increasingly easy for young people to conceptualize. “Oh, you’re just genderqueer,” I can imagine them saying. But how does one come out as genderqueer at 50? How does one explain to spouses, colleagues, children, and other relatives who have never considered identities outside the gender binary? There would be very real and potentially serious cultural consequences to coming out for this person.

Even if I could bring him on a field trip down to a local gender studies department or campus LGBT alliance to see firsthand what a genderqueer identity might look like, his peers would still lack any exposure to this concept. Many adults are still struggling with the idea of homosexuality, and most would have a difficult time really understanding transgender identity. But at least the “one-gender-trapped-in-the-body-of-the-other” idea fits into the gender binary most people are used do, as does attraction to the opposite gender. Genderqueer is an identity that demands thinking way outside the box, calling into question the very concept of gender as we know it.

Even for those transgender folks who have transitioned, there is a level of generational envy. I have often heard transgender individuals fantasizing about how things might have been different if they were born now, with the availability of hormones, surgical advancements, and the increased awareness of transgender children and teens. Kids now have the option of intervening early enough that puberty never steals their chances of passing as their identified gender.

College is, after all, the perfect time to formulate one’s identity. Had this middle-aged man experimented with transgender and genderqueer identities in college and chosen/begun his career and long-term partnership already identifying as such, his life would be very different. College is a safe place and time in which one’s peers are also, in their own ways, testing out different identities. But, as a wise supervisor of mine frequently says, one can only choose from among the culturally available identities. For most of the middle-aged people I work with, transgender and genderqueer were not a part of the cultural landscape yet when they were adolescents.

A few months ago I attended an Occupy Wall Street rally in New York City. A beautiful, confidant young woman took her place at the “human microphone” in order to speak. She began by saying, “I am a black, pansexual woman.” I remember distinctly the pang of envy I felt. Fifteen years ago I was a gender studies major (back when it was still called women’s studies). I lived in the gay dorm and hung out with the least gender conforming kids on campus. But I had never heard of “pansexual” until a few years ago. It might not have taken me until my 30s to solidify my queer identity if I had.

For me, the labels that existed when I was in college didn’t quite fit. In retrospect, this was because they all fit into that traditional gender binary. Lucky for me, dating men and passing as straight fit my identity well enough. I had the privilege of putting the knowledge I was queer on the back burner until an identity that fit me better was imagined by our culture.

For others, the feelings of not being gender variant are so profound and all-encompassing that life simply cannot go on. I believe this is why so many parents are working to open up space for their children to explore minority sexual and gender identities. Once that stage in life when our identities are naturally in flux has passed, there is no way to get that time back.

I often wonder what my life would look like right now if I had had pansexual identity on my radar in college. It might look exactly the same, but simply feel more authentic. Despite my envy, I am deeply encouraged by and utterly respectful of the kids who are coming up now. They are fundamentally re-thinking gender and opening up space for fuller and richer lives for those who don’t fit easily within the gender binary (and really, for everyone).

That said, we always need to be looking forward, making more space, thinking further outside the box. There are children growing up right now who will live their whole lives in silent desperation because they fit identity categories the culture has yet to offer.

About the author:

Lyla Cicero has a doctorate in clinical psychology, and focuses on relationships, sexual minorities, and sex therapy. Lyla is a feminist, LGBTQIAPK-affirmative, sex-positive blogger, where she writes about expanding cultural notions of identity, especially those surrounding gender, sexual orientation, motherhood, and sexuality.

Originally published by Role/Reboot, 5/24/12