Let Them Be

 

By Marilyn Moore

Transgender people.  Transgender youth.  Trans kids.  The targets of hate crimes, and punitive legislation, way beyond their numbers.  True in Nebraska, true in many other states, too.  An identity little understood by most, and evidently greatly feared by many.  

Probably like many of you, I went through most of my adult life knowing little about transgender people.  I still don't know much.  I know that every now and then a transgender teen would come out to school principals and counselors, and the school would work with the student and the student’s parents to make whatever plan seemed to work best for that student.  It was not a frequent occurrence…but school folks responded as they usually do, with compassion and a plan.  

In the past few years, the Nebraska School Activities Association adopted policies for participation of trans students in school athletic teams.  The numbers of trans athletes were small, but enough that consistent policies were needed.  The plan was thorough, and it seemed to be working.

I had read a little about transgender persons, education journal articles about trans kids in school, a few novels by authors whose own experiences raising transgender children informed their writing, and the occasional celebrity trans person story.  A few conversations with mental health providers, who mentioned an increasing frequency of transgender clients and the professional research that was growing. But overall, it was not a topic to which I gave much thought.

And then, this year happened.  For whatever reason, the Republican Party appears to have designated trans persons as “the other.”  This legislative session, bills were introduced in the Nebraska legislature that would restrict medical care for trans youth, that would legislate the participation of trans youth on school sports teams, and that would dictate the use of school bathrooms and locker rooms by trans youth.  Similar, indeed nearly identical, legislation (more than 650 anti-LGBTQ bills) was introduced in many other states in the country.  The hearings were loud, they were long, they were emotional.  Debate on the legislative floor was even more so.  In the end, in Nebraska, a bill was adopted that restricts the medical options available to trans youth and their parents, despite opposition from every medical and mental health association. 

Laws similar to the one adopted in Nebraska have been stayed or ruled as discriminatory by courts in other states, and that may be the fate of Nebraska’s bill, also.  But while the courts are considering constitutional issues, and some state senators are considering what they will try to accomplish through legislation next year, I’m thinking about the kids, and their families, who have been the target of unrelenting scorn, inaccurate statements, flat-out lies, and uninformed speculation.  The judgment of parents and health care professionals has been dismissed.  Lots of noise, lots of thunder, and lots of damage.

I’ve talked with two moms in the past two weeks, parents of trans youth.  One has a trans son, one a trans daughter.  One young person is in high school, one is a couple years beyond high school.  Both moms said something along the lines of, “This is my child.  I loved my child before I knew they were trans, and I love my child now.  This is one of the biggest unknowns ever, how do you navigate this, who can help, but what I know is that I love my child, and my job is to help them figure this out.  I’ll always love my child.”  

One mom is getting a fair amount of pushback from her extended family.  She’s remaining clear.  “I’m not sure what you expect me to do with your criticism.  Do you expect me to stop loving my child?  Because I won’t.  Would you stop loving your child?  Because it might be your child….”

Another conversation, this time with the uncle of a trans nephew, who is in his early teens.  The uncle commented that his nephew seems to be more comfortable with who he is in his own skin as he is making this transition, more so than before.  He also commented that he appreciates all the efforts that LPS has made to support trans kids.  Our conversation was in downtown Lincoln, where we could see the state capitol, and he glanced at it as he said he wished the same support were coming from our state leaders.  

Our governor has a stated goal of keeping Nebraska kids in Nebraska.  One of the moms I talked with told me that she and her husband are seriously considering splitting their family, with one parent moving with the trans kid to another state that does not restrict their medical options while the other parent remains in Lincoln for the stability of job and income…and what still feels like home to all of them. Another young adult, self-described as non-binary, moved to another state for graduate school, and will not return to Nebraska.  Their words, “Why does a state that I love so much not love me back?”  

It's not just the particular provisions of this particular statute, it’s the fact that there’s a statute at all.  It’s the fact that trans people’s very personal lives, that who they are at the core of their being, has been held up for public inspection, speculation, disbelief, and ridicule.  Mental health providers reported an uptick in trans youth reporting thought of suicide.  The title of the bill, “Let Them Grow,” is seen by these moms, and the uncle, and the trans kids themselves, as anything but letting them grow.  It’s stopping them from growing into the person that they know themselves to be.

Offsetting for a moment these really troubling glimpses into the realities of the lives of trans youth was the concert at Stranksy Park earlier this month.  Queer Choir LNK was the performing group, and there they were, in all their musical glory.  They filled the gazebo with their bodies, and they filled the neighborhood with their voices.  And a record crowd, more than 700 neighbors, showed up to listen, to join in the joy.  As their director said, “A whole community, of queers and allies.”  And a community is what it felt like.  The atmosphere was one of light and love and smiles and celebration.  It was diverse, it was inclusive, and all were welcome.  It was a good place to be….

Queer Choir LNK sang a varied program, with music from several genres.  Some spoke directly to their experiences of being queer.  The voices were passionate, the lyrics were compelling.  One line stays with me, “I’d go most anywhere to find where I belong.”  That’s a universal need, to belong….to a family, to a neighborhood, to a friend group, to a community, in a space that is safe, that is supportive, that affirms that you are who you are and that you are loved for who you are.  Trans kids aren’t the only ones who need this, we all need this.  But right now, trans kids, and their families, are most vulnerable, are most on the edge of not having this, and that endangers their futures and their very lives.  

To friend groups and school groups, to extended family members who don’t quite know who this emerging young person is, to leaders of organizations and communities, to policy makers at every level, I would hope we could agree to just….let them be.

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