Going Stealth

Going Stealth

Lee transitioned in the fourth grade.  Now, four years later, he is in middle school with a bunch of kids who remember him as a girl, and a whole lot of students who know him as ‘the trans kid.’ 

And we all know that people can be mean.  And kids this age can be brutal.  There’s a core group of kids who refer to him as “that tranny.”  Of course, they never do it within earshot of adults, so it’s hard to prove and even harder to combat.  But, despite the ‘haters,’ he’s got a great group of loyal friends.  He’s got support and people who love him.  He is out and proud and unashamed.  

How much of that is a performance?  A show to convince everyone that the bullying and the name calling doesn’t bother him?  I’m not really sure.  I always just assumed this kid had an over abundance of confidence.  His “give-a-damn’s busted,” or some such cliché.  His favorite shirt reads, “Nobody Knows I’m Trans,” and I love him for wearing it proudly.  

But times, they are a changing.  He’s applying to High Schools.  And he’s excited about something I didn’t see coming.  

Going stealth.  

In the trans community, it’s a particular privilege (although this isn’t true for all trans people, especially those who with a non-binary identity) to be able to ‘pass’ in social situations.  When people in transition get ‘read’ as the correct gender by strangers in public, it’s often a milestone.  In unfamiliar situations, Lee has always had ‘passing privilege.’  Because he never went through a female puberty, he presents as male.  His hair, his clothing, his name… all of those non-medical changes were enough, at the tender age of 8, to prompt strangers to view him as a boy.  Now that he’s older, we’ve taken some medical steps, so his jaw is squaring, his shoulders are widening, a little shadow has appeared on his upper lip.  He’s pretty consistently gendered correctly.  

And having this ‘passing privilege’ opens up the option to ‘go stealth.’ He can simply rely on the general public to perceive the correct gender and not share his trans identity. 

That’s what Lee wants to do.  He wants to start at a new school, and just, well… keep his privates private.  He wants to be known for his artistic talent and his anime obsession and his animal-whispering skills.  He wants to make new friends and just BE, without answering uncomfortable questions and explaining himself to people who may or may not genuinely want to understand. 

His room is currently plastered in Pride flags.  Gay pride flags.  Pan pride flags.  Trans pride flags.  And last week, he asked me if he could take them down.  I didn’t know how to react.  The question was so unexpected… so out of character… that I wasn’t sure where it was coming from.  He read my face and clarified, “If I get to go to a different high school, I’m taking down my flags and climbing back into the closet.”  His phrasing made me giggle, but his words broke my heart.  

And, of course, it’s HIS choice.  It’s HIS lived experience we’re talking about, here.  

I haven’t lived as a trans person, so I don’t know what it’s like for him to be ‘out’.  I can’t imagine how hard it is to feel like you have a target on your back, especially as you navigate the nightmare of middle school.  But I do know what it’s like to have a secret.  To worry that someone might find out the thing that you so desperately want to hide.  To be afraid of the truth.  

Secrets are scary.  They can be used against you.  As blackmail or punishment or even a defense in court.  If a straight person murders a trans person, they can actually argue that they were so shocked and surprised by someone’s trans-ness that they’re not responsible for their own actions.  SERIOUSLY???

So, while I’m sure it would be easier for him to go to school as a boy and just ‘pass,’ I’m also worried about the repercussions if his ‘secret’ gets out.  Will he face potentially violent reactions if his peers feel like they’ve been lied to? 

I keep playing the ‘what-ifs’ in my head.  I keep imagining worst-case scenarios.  But I also need to imagine the relief at finally being able to just blend in.  The comfort of not having to watch your back or read between the lines or second-guess every interaction.  

Ultimately, I don’t think my opinion on this one is worth a damn.  He’s got to decide.  He’s always going to have to decide.  Every time he meets someone new.  Every time he starts a new job or makes a new friend or gets close enough to date someone.  Every time he enters a relationship, he’s going to have to make a choice.  He’s going to have to decide if the risk is worth the reward.  

And I can’t protect him from it.  I can’t mitigate the risks or predict the outcomes.  I can only be there to support him through it; to cheer him on through the wins and comfort him through the losses and remind him that his value is not dependent on other people’s reactions to him.  

Just like every other parent, I suppose.  I can’t fix the world for my kid, so I have to prepare my kid to be brave and bold and vulnerable and kind.  I have to help him to be cautious AND resilient as he becomes the incredible adult human that God intended him to be.