Ellen Page Came Out as Trans Male
By: Lindsay Redifer
Tags: LGBTQ, Transgender, Culture, Education, Celebrity

Ellen Page Came Out as Trans Male

Elliot Page on Twitter. Photo by Page

Elliot Page, (whom you’ll recognize as actor Ellen Page), announced on Twitter that he is a trans male. He posted about the joy of his transition, how grateful he feels to his amazing community, and his new fears. He realizes to ask for the pronouns he, him, and they seem small, but the move puts him in immense danger.

The internet responded immediately, editing his name to reflect his new phase in life and erase his dead name. Every site from Netflix to Google changed Ellen to Elliot, and I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief.

I know all too well the struggle trans people go through to exist, to have a name. As a teacher, I’ve stood on the front lines of that fight.

Elliot’s transition can teach schools a lot about the trans journey. We need to pay attention and take note.

My first trans student

Back in 2016, I taught advanced English classes at a Mexican Catholic high school. As a queer, caucasian protestant, I stood out. In the English department, I was the only native speaker. I didn’t know any of the prayers recited at the campus chapel. I had no idea how to respond when, at the annual teacher blessing, staff members around me openly wept while a priest whipped a wet pine branch at us to spray our faces with the blessed drops.

But teaching and being an outsider are two things I know well, so I leaned into my strange new position and focused prep for the new school year. The first day the senior students arrived, I noticed one of my students had an odd note next to his name. I couldn’t make it out, so I called him by the female name I could read.

This student, I’ll call him Carlos, sat quietly in class while his classmates shrieked “No mames!” at every opportunity. He had a lithe frame, short spiky hair, and big, staring eyes. I liked him immediately.

So, when Carlos wanted to talk to me after class, I said, “Of course! What’s up?”

A lot was up, more than I could have imagined. Carlos needed to let me know he was a he, not a she, and that I had his dead name on my attendance list. He tried to state this simply and bravely, but coming out as trans never happen is a battle. I watched his face twist as he fought to get the words out.

“Teacher,” he said, his words coming out at a breakneck speed, “that name you have is not my name. My real name is Carlos and I’m a boy and I need you to call me that and I can’t explain why but it’s important so please just don’t call me that other name anymore because I’m transitioning and I hate to hear it so please, please, call me Carlos.”

I listened, but I also tried to hear past his words to all the things he couldn’t say. But, like most adults, I only found fuzzy, dark concepts I couldn’t decipher. So, I nodded and agreed I’d call him whatever he liked.

Carlos slumped against the wall, exhausted. He avoided my eyes.

“Sweetheart,” I asked him, “are you okay?”

He nodded and sped out of my classroom.

The small things matter

A lot of my students wanted to be called something unique. I didn’t give it much thought. One of my students said, “Teacher, everyone calls me Thor.” So, I called him Thor. Carlos’ request seemed innocuous to me. If I could have a Nordic god in my class, why couldn’t I have a Carlos?

Yet that simple request seemed beyond a lot of people at school. I noticed Carlos’ classmates often called him his dead, female name. Some of the teachers did as well. They also misgendered him, calling Carlos a “she” at any opportunity.

What confused me the most about all of it was, Carlos was so clearly male. He had no female traits I could see. His choice in clothes, his stance, his high energy, and his loud voice made me see him as a boy, yet his peers and educators seemed to miss the obvious.

No one called Carlos the wrong things with any venom in their voice, and he didn’t correct anyone. Perhaps he felt grateful to not be physically attacked and to at least be accepted on some level. I don’t know. I only know it bothered me.

One day in the teacher’s lounge, I found myself sharing a coffee break with all of my English team. I took a chance and brought up Carlos. First, I asked if everyone knew him.

Cue the exasperated groans. Yes, they assured me, everyone knew Carlos.

“Oh, so that is the name he prefers? I didn’t misunderstand him?”

The conversation instantly died and got replaced with awkward eye contact directed over and around my eye line. Finally, my colleague Jesus confirmed that yes, Carlos was his preferred name.

“Okay,” I said, standing up to rinse out my empty cup. “I just wanted to make sure I had it right.” More silence. I cleared my throat, put my cup on the dishrack.

“Well, by all!” Then it was my turn to speed out of the room, too scared to look back.

Creating a space for trans students

Tons of schools claim to be open to any student, yet trans kids challenge the best of campuses. A friend of mine, an elementary teacher, let me know she had her first trans child, a little girl, and couldn’t believe how her school responded to her presence.

“They built her a bathroom,” she informed me, her voice flat with disappointment. “Her own, private bathroom so that no one has to share with her. A little boy actually got in trouble for using it today. It’s madness!”

Unfortunately, many schools see moves like a trans bathroom as the solution to a problem they haven’t bothered to define. The girls’ teachers, however, saw exactly what she needed.

She needed to sit with her female classmates and feel included with the cis girls. She didn’t need a designated bathroom or a roped-off space. Most educators can handle this. We see kids in a unique light. It’s as if we can look at a child and see the projection of their future, adult selves.

Trans students simply need a little more time, a little more patience, to become that person. Teachers can give them that room to develop, learn and grow in their special way.

How to help your trans student

I think the thing most teachers need to keep in mind is that administration will likely distance themselves from this issue at every opportunity. If your school is forward-thinking enough to have a talk or meeting about what it means to be transgender, count yourself lucky. The majority of us are on our own.

But teachers shine in autonomous spaces. On the first day, call attendance and check-in with each student, asking if there’s any other name they prefer.

Trans students want to be seen, but not seen as outsiders. Like most kids, they want to learn and play, but they also want to be themselves. If you take a moment to let each kid say, “call me ____,” your trans student can state a chosen name without getting singled out.

You can tag on a question about pronouns if you feel it’s appropriate. “Do you have a preferred pronoun?” can be a quick get-to-know-you question. I don’t recommend doing this anonymously in a class survey. That defeats the purpose.

The students need to hear you call your trans student by his/her/their chosen name and pronoun. Teachers are leaders, we can set the tone for the whole year in the first few minutes of school. If your class hears you acknowledging and accepting a trans student, they get a deeper message:

“Carlos is real and we need to accept him.”

Be ready for questions and have some stock answers. If anyone takes you to task about why you need to know so much about everyone or why you’re giving everyone a chance to change their name, you can tell them:

“Identity is complicated, we need to respect it. I identify as a _____, and I appreciate it when people see me that way. I want to return the favor.”

You might get some unfortunate responses and hear things like, “Oh, so can I be a bird?” I’m sorry to say I still get these comments when people find out I’m fine with transgender people. For some, your allyship will be too much. Don’t back down, but don’t start an argument. Instead, try pointing out the fact that we don’t have to understand every single thing about one another, we only need to respect our differences.

“I understand this is complicated. No one is asking you to be the perfect ally. I only want you to respect your classmate. Can you do that?”

Keep everything simple, especially at the start. Give the kids a chance to get to one another before you dive into any deep talks. You might accidentally put a student in an awkward position or say something out of turn if you push the issue.

With teachers, we can be more vocal. Encourage any teacher or admin who’s uncomfortable with gender identity to spend a little time with your student at recess, in the library, somewhere neutral. A few minutes, that’s all. Then check-in.

How did it go? What did you two talk about? How do you feel now?

Listen and don’t judge. I promise plenty of other people will do the judging for you.

Thanks, Elliot

Seeing Elliot’s story took me back to that first day with Carlos, or the time a trans friend of mine told her biological history. I flashed back to the notifications on Facebook that friends of mine had new identities. I admire them all endlessly — this world struggles with a trans identity and likely will continue to struggle for years.

Yet they push through. They buy dresses and slide them over not-yet-curvy frames to finally feel like the person they previously only became in their dreams. They pay thousands for top surgery and buy their first suits despite massive public outcries against these deeply personal acts.

Can you imagine going through all that? Could you do it as a teenager? I know I couldn’t. I tip my hat to all of them.

To the Elliots of the world — I see you. You exist. I love you.