“Didn’t you say that you only had a sister?” asked my confused friend, Ben, when I told him that I visited my brother.
“Yes, and he is now my brother,” I replied, a little guarded.
Coming out to tell the world that you are transgender is hard. Up until a couple of months ago, transgender people like Sgt. Patricia King were banned from serving in the military openly. Elisha Walker, 20-years-old, a transgender youth of color (like my brother), was found murdered and dumped in a field in North Carolina.
Being a protective sister, I hated the possibility of people making fun of my brother, passing along this information like some scandalous gossip. But I was even more terrified of jeopardizing his professional future and physical safety.
As someone whose family member is transgender, I’ve been unable to find much advice for how to tell people this without endangering my brother.
Transgender people are more likely to live in poverty and face employment discrimination. Only in 19 states and the District of Columbia do any kind of non-discrimination laws exist to protect transgender individuals. Drive across the state border to our neighbor, Tennessee, and the state will legally flat out forbid you from correcting the sex designation on your birth certificate.
When it comes to hate crimes, the situation is even worse. Only 15 states and the District of Columbia require law enforcement agencies to investigate and prosecute crimes against them. Exacerbating this dismal fact is that transgender people are also four times more likely than the general population to experience police violence.
Even among LGBT community members, only a paltry three percent believe that transgender people are accepted by society.
In addition, one in four transgender students experience sexual harassment in college. Disturbingly, transgender homicide rates in the past year have been the highest historically.
Threats to physical and psychological safety are not just coming from others—sadly, nearly half of young transgender people have seriously thought about taking their lives.
These terrible statistics evidence the peril and riskiness of being transgender. So for a long time, I referred to my brother as “he” in front of him and our family members but as “she” to others. In a conversation with acquaintances, I teetered between saying “he” assertively and “she” timidly. Perhaps I had good intentions, but I felt extremely guilty for compartmentalizing the truth. Plus, it was very hard to keep track, and sometimes I would mix up the pronouns and just confuse everyone.
I don’t watch “Keeping up with the Kardashians,” “Orange is the New Black” or “Transparent.” But I witnessed Caitlyn Jenner and Laverne Cox proudly declare their identity. And I heard Jeffrey Tambor and Jill Soloway ardently dedicate their Emmy awards to the transgender community. Their bravery gives me the courage to start referring to my brother as “he” and correcting others when they ask about my sister. And when I saw the overwhelming support that Jenner and Cox receive from so many people—friends, family and strangers on social media—my fear was slowly alleviated.
In our immediate community, progress is slowly being made at Duke. Since two years ago, Duke started providing insurance coverage for sex confirmation surgery. In July, the Duke Center for Child and Adolescent Gender Care began providing treatment such as hormone therapy for children with gender dysphoria. The Housing, Dining and Residence Life office prohibits discrimination and harassment against transgender individuals. On Coming Out Day, about 1,500 Love=Love t-shirts supporting the LGBT community are given out each year, a testament to the strength of the community and its allies.
Of course, our work is not complete (for example, some buildings like the Fuqua School of Business and the Law School still don’t have unisex bathrooms—an issue which may not cross a cisgender mind but which causes major inconvenience and discomfort for transgender people).
Our progress needs to continue, and we need to channel that progress into our surrounding communities as well.
I am now confident that I am not alone in my support for my brother and his transgender identity. Transgender people are at the forefront of the battle for visibility and acceptance. Aware of the imminent difficulties they face, many are steeled to the risks involved in disclosing their identity.
My brother organizes an LGBT outreach program as part of his work to champion and defend the rights of his community. As an advocate, he regularly joins forces with other LGBT groups to combat discrimination and violence in his neighborhood and to make his campus more accessible to LGBT students.
I never cease to admire my brother’s strength and devotion to his cause. So for the people we care about, we shouldn’t be afraid either. Instead, we should be their armor in their fight for visibility and equality.
I precariously held my gaze on Ben after I explained that my sister was now my brother. He thought for a second and replied, “Oh, okay, cool.”
Simone Tang is a Ph.D. candidate at the Fuqua School of Business.
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