On their first day of the 2008 school year, the eighth graders are unusually boisterous. This is it. They’re at the top. It is the beginning of their last year at Brookwood School (Massachusetts) and it feels magical, yet strangely ominous. Shrieks of excitement explode from two friends who haven’t seen each other in three months. They hug and dance and both babble into each other’s face at the same time, understanding everything and nothing at all.
As the students make their way into classrooms, our eighth grade English teacher appears at my side looking rather concerned. “Thought you’d want to know that Chris is wearing a dress.” It is the first line of a dramatic play that unfolds on the Brookwood School stage for the next nine months.
In truth, it came as no surprise that Chris was wearing a dress, although the last time he wore one to school was three years before in fifth grade. Given Chris’s history, we all knew this was not a prank or an act of defiance. It certainly wasn’t a disciplinary issue. We were all aware that Chris had announced he was gay during his seventh grade year and, at the time, had wondered whether he was struggling with gender identity. We knew the dress was something to take seriously. Fortunately, the sexuality education and sexual diversity consultants who had come to work with Brookwood parents and faculty over many years had helped prepare us well for this eventuality.
Regardless, we had an immediate major disruption to the first day of school. We had to get Chris out of the dress while not totally embarrassing him or causing a scene. The last thing we wanted was an explosive reaction from parents that would hurt Chris and potentially turn the school year into a battleground.
I asked Chris’s advisor to talk with him and, if need be, call his parents so that they could deliver dress code pants to their son. (What are they thinking, anyway, letting him out of the house like that?) A little while later, Chris’s advisor came to my office to report back.
“Well, it turns out that Chris left his house in trousers and hid the dress in his backpack. He changed in the bathroom before first period and I told him he needed to change back into pants. He wasn’t too happy. But that’s not the whole story. Apparently he emailed his friends last night and told them he was now a girl and they should call him Courtney from now on.”
I sank in my chair knowing we were all in for a long and bumpy ride. We all loved this boy and wanted him to be safe.
From the day that Chris had worn a skirt in fifth grade, we had worked with him, his parents, and teachers in offering support for his gender identity search. Back then, no one much cared that he chose to wear a skirt and his teacher did a wonderful job of leading class discussions around inclusivity and self-expression. She spent many hours with Chris as he struggled to come to terms with his feelings. In seventh grade, he announced to everyone that he was gay, which prompted a series of meetings with his parents and his therapist to ensure that we were doing all the right things to support him. At the time, students and parents who knew were either supportive or silent on the issue. But eighth grade was a different story. Working with a transgender student would require us as a community to make many decisions for which we had no road map. We knew immediately that if, in fact, Chris would be publicly transitioning to Courtney during his/her eighth grade year, silence and support would no longer be the universal response from parents. We also knew that we would stand behind him through this journey no matter how difficult it would be for Brookwood. But we needed time to prepare. We needed time to educate the community while respecting Chris’s need to express himself as Courtney even though he was years away from sex reassignment surgery, should he choose to pursue it (not all transgendered individuals do). To complicate the matter further, Chris, by nature, was anything but patient and, understandably, oftentimes assumed that those in authority should not be trusted. We knew that he would see our need to take the time necessary to prepare our community as being a rejection of his immediate need to express himself.
In the first hours of that first day, we were thrust into planning mode. We listed everything that we needed to consider and then suggested ways to move forward. The thoughts and questions quickly bounced off the walls of my office.
“We need to talk with the eighth grade. They are confused.”
“Our teachers need training.”
“We have to get Chris’s parents in right away.”
“What about bathrooms?”
“What if he wants to play field hockey?”
“Will he graduate in a dress?”
“What about the eighth grade buddies in third grade?”
“Will he sleep in the boys or girls room during the eighth grade overnight trip?”
“We need help with this.”
My assistant knocked on the door, interrupting the strategy session. “I just had a phone call from an angry eighth grade parent and he said he is on his way to school to speak with you.” It was starting.
After a very brief conversation with the fearful and anxious father, I finally had the chance to meet with Chris. He told me that he had been in therapy all summer with a transgender specialist and that he had been diagnosed as a transgender candidate. He wanted everyone to call him Courtney. I explained to Chris that we supported him completely, but everyone was not yet ready to accept him as Courtney. “We can tell everyone to call you Courtney, but we would rather have them accept you as Courtney and that means they need to understand what you now know about yourself. As much as this is so very real and true for you, it will be confusing and scary for others. When people don’t have knowledge, they often react with fear and that reaction may end up hurting you. I am not going to let that happen even if you don’t like the way we decide to do this. So, we need you to be patient. We are going to ask your therapist to come to school and speak to students and teachers. They need to know what you know. We also need to communicate this situation to the Brookwood parents. This is going to take a while, and until then, you will still be called Chris and you will follow the dress code for boys.”
Chris sat there, staring at the floor. He was angry. He wanted it all, immediately. He was 13. Most of all, he was ready and anxious to live as his true gender, and more than ready to stop living with the profound psychic disequilibrium that came with having to be and pretend to be what he was not.
Over the course of the next few days, we formulated a plan to move ahead. I informed the president of the board of trustees and promised that a course of action plan would be sent to all trustees. We made a list of what needed to be done and we assigned responsibilities to various administrators and the school’s consulting psychologist. Our list included:
• Establish ground rules for Chris so that he is clear about our expectations of him as we educate our community.
• Immediately set up a meeting with Chris’s parents and Chris’s therapist.
• Contact experts in the field for advice.
• Inform all faculty and staff of the situation.
• Hire an expert to train our faculty on all issues related to transgender teenagers.
• Select the best professional to speak with students in our upper school, grades six through eight.
• Write a letter to all Brookwood parents explaining the situation and the school’s position on the issue.
• Set up a date for an evening information session for parents.
• Make decisions about the accommodations needed once Chris officially “becomes known” as Courtney.
When we met with Chris’s parents and his therapist, we reassured them that the school was fully supportive of making accommodations for Chris throughout the school year. They understood and appreciated that we needed time to train faculty, educate parents, and communicate with the at-large community. We agreed that Chris would continue to use the name Chris, dress according to boys’ rules, and participate in boys’ activities until we had fulfilled our obligation to all constituencies. We estimated that it would take three to four weeks to accomplish everything and we urged Chris’s parents and therapist to help Chris understand the necessity of remaining patient.
A week later, Chris’s impetuosity got the best of him. He came to school wearing a short skirt, high heels, and an abundance of jewelry and make-up. He quickly informed other eighth graders that he would not speak to them unless they addressed him as Courtney. Following the understood agreement, a teacher escorted Chris to my office and I called Chris’s father to come to school to take Chris home. I then sat next to him on my couch. “Chris, your teachers’ hearts are in this so deeply that I refuse to let you sabotage our efforts,” I said. “We are going to make sure that you have a safe and supportive eighth grade year. I know you don’t understand why we just can’t make it happen. But right now, you are making it more difficult for yourself and for us.” After Chris left with his father, I received the first of several ultimatums from one of our parents. It was a short phone conversation.
“I didn’t send my daughter to this school expecting I would have to talk with her about sex when she was still in kindergarten. This situation will be a constant disruption to her and unless it is resolved, I will take my daughter out of school. By the way, I have talked to a lot of other parents and they feel the same way.” At the moment, he was in no mood for discussion, so I simply invited him to the planned parent information session and told him the school and Massachusetts law stood firmly behind Chris as a Brookwood student. The father did not attend the session. His daughter stayed in school.
After holding very successful faculty and student meetings conducted by transgender specialists, we hired Deborah Roffman, nationally known author of Sex and Sensibility, to conduct our parent information night. The turnout was more modest than I had expected, more supporters than opponents attending. There was some tension, lots of questions, and many outspoken advocates for Chris and his family. Overall, the parents came away from the meeting with a deeper appreciation and understanding of transgender youth. Momentum and support was clearly in our favor. The time had come for Chris to officially become Courtney.
On the day before Courtney began her Brookwood experience as a girl, we met with the eighth grade one more time. We told them it was OK if they made mistakes during the transition. We reassured them that we all might use the wrong pronoun or call her Chris instead of Courtney. It would take some adjustment for all of us. We told them that we had put an athletic locker in the unisex bathroom near the locker room and Courtney would use that space to change and as a bathroom. Since Chris had only intended to participate in coeducational afterschool athletic programs, Courtney would do the same. I then thanked the eighth graders for their incredible support for their classmate. We all knew that their unwavering support for Courtney was the single most important factor in the eventual acceptance shown by the entire community.
I think all of us were amazed at how smoothly the rest of the school year unfolded. Our teachers, trustees, and parents shared a sense of pride in the way our community came together around Courtney and her family. We all knew this was only a small step in her journey, but it was a big step for us.
Graduation day, June 14, 2009. Courtney’s name was called and she stood to make the walk onto the stage to receive her diploma. She wore a simple white dress. Her auburn hair now reached her shoulders. Those in attendance stood to applaud as Courtney’s broad and steady smile revealed her teenage braces. Like all the other girls, Courtney’s steps showed a slight wobble in the unfamiliar high heels.