I’m a cisgender, straight woman. I grew up knowing I was female, inside and out. But what if my gender identity had been different.


Imagine a high school version of my adult self. Everything felt unstable — weight, hormones, emotions. I couldn’t rely on anything to stay the same — even my blonde hair was growing darker. I had achieved my height of 5’2” by age twelve, when I was considered a giant; now at fifteen, I was startled to be viewed as “petite.” My one constant, the core of my identity that held me steady: I was female.

One day, changing into my clothes after gym class, I realized my period had arrived early. I didn’t know what to do. A group of girls with nearby lockers saw me anxiously searching through my backpack, and they exchanged knowing glances. I barely knew them, but they immediately stepped in. One offered a tampon, and we all smiled, bonded in our femaleness.

Now imagine a different scenario. Think about how I might have felt if someone called my “gender identity” (my definition of myself as female) threatening, or dangerous, or sick, or a phase I’d grow out of. Suppose that instead of offering support, those girls had yelled at me, ordered me to use the boys’ bathroom.

Imagine what might have followed.

Suppose I entered the boys’ bathroom, probably with the same hesitancy you’d enter the “wrong” restroom. Maybe the boys would be hostile. Maybe they’d make comments about my body, put their hands on me, become violent. Maybe I’d be so upset that I’d promise myself I’d never again use the bathroom during school. But one day I’d really need to, so I’d duck into the girls’ bathroom, because this was where I belonged, because I was female. I’d pray I’d be safe. But the girls whispered, shot comments, pointed.

Somehow, I’d get through the day. I’d return home, needing to regroup, regain my sense of safety. Then I’d turn on the news, and some state governments would announce that my identity wasn’t valid, that I was a lesser being, not deserving equal rights and protections. The way I was treated in the bathrooms by both girls and boys was perfectly fine. If I didn’t like it, then it was my fault for defining myself as female.

Take a moment, and imagine.

This is the message the transgender population has been given by some of the people who are supposed to be our protectors. I’ve written this post as if they were me. 

Now imagine that they were you.


Amy’s Novels:

Hollywood High: Achieve The Honorable deals with homophobic bullying at school, and follows a girl’s journey after she comes out to her family. The story tracks a group of diverse high school friends as they confront homophobia in themselves and others, and find individual paths to becoming allies.

Tightwire follows a rookie psych intern through her first year of clinical training, treating a stormy and talented young man. This book tracks a strong friendship between two men, one gay and one straight. Two other important characters are a lesbian couple, raising two children, who become role model parents to the main character. This is a story of the importance of becoming your full self.

Click on the link to visit Amy’s Author Page — check out Amy’s recent blog posts, read reviews, purchase her novels.

1 Comment

Filed under LGBT, Trans Ally, Transgender

One response to “Imagine

  1. Pingback: Congratulations, Mr. Ratburn! | Amy Kaufman Burk's Blog

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s