Dead Name

Lee celebrated his thirteenth birthday this week.  He’s officially a teenager, and we were prepared to make it a great day.  We woke him up (as is our tradition) with the whole family at 6am, before the preparations began for work and school. Bea presented the balloon, and Cal carried the blueberry muffin (Lee’s favorite) with a carefully placed candle in it. Mom and Dad had the gift and the card, and we all sang (some of us off-key) at the top of our lungs.  

His smile lit up his basement room.  This kid. This kid is my heart.  

And we sent him off to school.  

At the end of a long day, we gathered back together at the dining room table over a taco dinner (birthday boy’s request, of course).  Sometimes, it’s like pulling teeth to get these kids to talk about their day.  Some days, we have to ask a million questions to get any info.  But today was not that kind of day.  There was a lot of talking and laughing and joking, and eventually, Lee told a story. 

If you know this kid, you know that he tries not to take anything too seriously.  So even if something is tough, or emotional, or upsetting, he’ll probably make a joke out of it.  

And when he told us what happened, he tried to share it lightly.  Like it was no big deal.  He smiled through the retelling.  But when you really love someone, you can tell when the smile doesn’t reach their eyes. His eyes held a question mark. His eyes showed the sadness and the fear that he wasn’t ready to show on his face, and it was almost as if he were asking permission to be upset.  

At his school, they announce birthdays over the loudspeaker in the morning.  You know where this is headed.  The school that has supported him and created a loving, affirming, safe environment…. They dead-named him over the loudspeaker.  

In the transgender community, the names that people no longer use are referred to as ‘dead names.’ It’s powerful language.  Shocking, even.  Most of us mama bears hate the term.  We hate to associate the word ‘dead’ with our children.  Especially since we know the statistics about suicide rates for kids like ours.  We have friends whose children are no longer with us, and we know that the unbearable grief of a dead child is not to be referenced lightly. 

But the term was not coined by mama bears.  It was coined by transgender people who have borne the burden of bigotry and hate. And the term is intentionally harsh. Because the reality is harsh.    ‘Dead-naming’ someone is one of the most pervasive ways that anti-trans groups demean and dehumanize transgender people. Dead-naming disregards the experience and denies the existence of trans people. Dead-naming triggers dysphoria and publicly exposes a person’s transgender status without their consent.  

Now I’m not talking about mistakes early in transition.  I’m not talking about using the wrong name and the wrong pronouns by accident. Those are mistakes.  You apologize and move on.  But once a person has been living as their authentic self for a period of time, it becomes apparent that using the wrong name is an intentional choice.

A name change is a big deal. You petition the court.  You sit in the waiting room at the Social Security office. You present the supporting documents to anyone who has ever had record of your child’s name.   Doctors.  Dentists. Insurance companies. Clubs. Activities.  Camps.   And obviously, the school. 

The staff at Lee’s school assured me, early in his transition (even before the legal name change), that any documents containing his birth name were in a locked file cabinet in the principal’s office.  They had updated the computer system and the state testing database and the rosters. That name shouldn’t be anywhere.  

Early in his transition, there was a mistake.  It happened once, with a substitute teacher.  The substitute called the wrong name.  It was frustrating and upsetting, but it didn’t out him because most kids already knew.  The teacher was working off an old list that had been printed and not updated.  These things happen.  

But three years later, in a new school, with a database that was supposedly updated, I can’t imagine the scenario where his dead-name appeared on a list of birthdays. Somebody needs to explain it to me. 

The thing is, this kid is OUT and PROUD.  He has spoken to conferences and youth groups and his entire church congregation about his experience.  His favorite tee shirt reads, “Nobody Knows I’m Trans.”  He recently shared with his English class, as part of a presentation about a book he read.  This kid is incredibly brave.  But every time he chooses to share, he does so on his own terms.  Each time, he carefully considers the audience.  He gauges the risk, mentally tallying the supporters, the unknowns, and the likely critics in the crowd.  Each time he chooses to come out to a new group of people, our bedtime conversations are fraught with anxiety and what-ifs.   Each time, when he choses to share, it is an act of courage.  

The choice to share is his, and his alone.  It is his burden.  

So perhaps it seems like I’m overreacting.  I’m sure it was just a mistake.  But that mistake robbed my child of his sense of control.  It took away his agency and violated his trust in the adults around him. 

There were no dire consequences.  He got a lot of questions about his name and his transition.  The kids who knew were explaining things to the kids who didn’t. Lee was the subject of a lot of conversations, but that is all.  Middle school is tough.  In reality, I’m glad this happened to MY kid.  This happened to my open, proud, confident kid.  And it shook him.  

Imagine if it had happened to a kid who was less confident?  Who wasn’t out?  Who was simply trying to live his life as his true self and didn’t want to share his story with the world?  Imagine if it had happened to a child who was on the brink of becoming another suicide statistic?  

So this mama bear has a meeting coming up. I’ll start calmly.  Unless and until it’s dismissed as a minor transgression.  It’s easy to see things as minor when you have the luxury of feeling safe in your own skin.  But so many of our kids don’t have that luxury.  So there may be tears.  There may be shouting.  But I will not leave that school until I am convinced that they understand how important it is to get this right.  

 This is about protecting and affirming our kids.  This is about protecting and affirming MY kid.  And this kid is my heart.