Abstract
Amid today’s political climate, it becomes increasingly critical to encourage and maintain trans*1 equity practices of affirmation and recognition. While providing opportunities for hope and empathy, this article situates ethnodrama within gender theory to stage the lived experience of one female-to-male (FTM) trans* high school student. Distilled from a corpus of ethnographic interviews, this performance captures the student’s school experiences, and exchanges with his parents. Given theater possesses the potential to create empathy and affect social change, this ethnodrama attempts a novel embodiment of the layered complexities of trans* inclusion to foster pedagogies of recognition and gender equity. In this way, this performative text contributes to the burgeoning and important field of gender studies in education.
Keywords
Prologue
The American people elected Donald Trump to be the 45th President of the United States on November 8, 2016. Many assert that he promoted the most divisive and acrimonious campaign in U.S. history, characterized by his numerous acts of xenophobia, intolerance and overt racism, sexism, ableism, and homo/transphobia. In addition, much of his rhetoric intentionally sought to victimize, scapegoat, and further marginalize all minorities. Historical progress on racial inequality and homo/transphobia, once thought to be improving, has now worsened. Hard-fought legislative battles such as a woman’s right to choose, the Dream Act, affordable health care, Federal protections of trans* individuals, and marriage equality appear very much in jeopardy of being reversed or challenged in the new Trump administration. In fact, the context in which many marginalized groups live changed overnight.
In the wake of this turmoil, school bullying and harassment has reportedly increased in schools nationwide (Grecko, 2016; “Post-Trump Victory Bullying,” 2016). According to Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) and The Williams Institute, trans* youth are already at very high risk of being forced to endure acts of physical and verbal abuse at school (Biegel & Kuehl, 2010; Kosciw, Greytak, Palmer, & Boesen, 2014), and the reported postelection increase in bullying indicate that much work is needed to create a culture of equitable school practices. To counter the pervasive vitriol currently permeating the country, a culture of equitable practices must foster spaces of empathy recognition, and understanding.
Furthermore, formerly effective paths toward justice dissolve under the current political system (Arendt, 1968); the election of Donald Trump reminds us that we can no longer rely on old ways of thinking about traditional concepts or values. As such, this ethnodrama presents a “crisis of humanity” (Bauman, 2016) demanding that those whose ethical framework remains grounded in equity and social justice give pause, and hear the voices of people at the fringes. Our ethical responsibility to provide an alternative discourse that gives voice to those with the most to lose will become even more vital if the Alternative Right succeeds in implementing its legislative proposals.
To facilitate this alternate discourse and provide opportunities for hope and empathy, this article uses ethnodrama to put the lived experiences of one female-to-male (FTM) transboy’s school experience into conversation with prevailing gender theory (Butler, 2004). Butler theorizes that one’s gender is continually destroyed and remade through a series of performative acts that occur within the confines of gender norms. These norms are malleable and contestable, shifting as people continually remake their genders in a layered process where performed genders build upon each other into novel expressions, but are continually destroyed as they collide with regulating norms. However, these collisions also carry the potential to reposition norms so that formerly alternate expressions of gender become ordinary and legible. Hence, the norms shift as they collide with alternate expressions so that what was once deemed aberrant has the potential to become ordinary.
To challenge prevailing norms, this piece relies on Saldaña’s (1999, 2005, 2011) scholarship in ethnodrama. Accordingly, it weaves interviews conducted with the student, and with both of his parents, two of his teachers, and one of his school administrators into a comprehensive series of seminal moments in the student’s life history. The ethnodrama creates insight to an alternative perspective about trans* school experiences to educate its audience regarding denigrating and affirming school practices, and works to combat the deeply disturbing experiences of trans* people which has likely been exacerbated by the election of Donald Trump.
Because ethnodrama is premised in performance, using it to examine the performativity embedded in doing and undoing gender provides unique opportunities for reconsidering and remaking our own understanding of our genders. Ethnodrama engenders potentials for gender legibility and action in unique and specific ways that may help school communities to recognize and validate trans* identities and expressions. In so doing, it invites readers to reconsider the ways they undo and remake their genders. As the trans* population in the United States continues to become more visible, and as Donald Trump assumes presidential duties, work that promotes trans* equity proves as vital now as ever.
Playwrights’ Note
In the following section, we offer the play, followed by an epilogue that contextualizes it with contemporary gender theory and current scholarship in ethnodrama. But, we encourage a “choose your own adventure”: We invite readers to experience the play without framing it within the scholarly discourse and these readers should continue directly to the play immediately following. However, we include the pertinent scholarship in the epilogue. If one chooses to situate the play in the scholarly literature and methods, skip ahead to the epilogue beginning on page 7 and continue (or not) through the methods on page 9. If you decide to read the epilogue and/or methods, first, we suggest that you return to the play before reading the coda that also begins on page 9.
In addition, the reader may wish to know that this play has not been performed, but we encourage them (readers) to perform it in their qualitative methods and teacher education courses, or as part of professional development in school communities.
Transitioning to School: A Story of Becoming
[The stage is empty save a border on the floor outlining the playing space. The border is painted some color other than the floor, maybe it’s various swirls of blue and pink, think paisley, think fluid. It’s about a foot wide. Within this foot-wide border, artifacts from JACK’s life are on display. The artifacts should be gendered in some way and will occasionally be brought into the action of the play (e.g., toy truck, Barbie dolls, baseball glove, dresses, etc). All of the actions of the play will take place within this border. All actors are on stage all the time. The scenes are intentionally short, snap shots of lives and transitions between them need to be instant.]
JACK: What’s your gender?
PAUL: How do you know if someone is a man or a woman?
KATHY: When did you find out?
JACK: How do you know yours?
PAUL: I mean, how do you really know if you don’t know them, if you don’t ask them?
JACK: How do you really know? What tells you?
ACTOR 1: When you played when you were a kid, what did you play with?
JACK: Do people see you as who you want to be?
ACTOR 2: Do you feel like you’re manly enough?
KATHY: Did somebody assign your sex? Who told you that you were a boy or a girl?
ACTOR 3: Have you ever fired a gun? Did it make you feel like a man?
ACTOR 2: Don’t cry. Crying’s for girls.
ACTOR 1: Did you play with girls’ toys or boys’ toys? Barbie or Tonka?
ACTOR 4: I think it’s time for you to man up.
JACK: Do you think a stranger on the street would see you for your true gender?
ACTOR 1: Maybe you played with both.
ACTOR 4: You drive a girl car.
JACK: How do people see you? I mean, what do they see when they look at you?
ACTOR 3: Are you a “girly” girl? Can you be?
PAUL: What do you see when you look at others? Do you see people in the way that they want to be seen?
KATHY: How do they know that?
JACK: How do you know that?
ACTOR 1: (Holds baby wrapped up in pink blanket) Congratulations. She’s a beautiful and healthy girl.
PAUL: What?
KATHY: Girl?
ACTOR 1: Seven pounds, six ounces and 19 inches long. She’s beautiful. And, you know what? She came into this world with her eyes wide open. In all my years of doing this, I’ve only seen that once before. Literally, born with her eyes open—
KATHY: Girl?
ACTOR 1: —Ready to take on the world.
KATHY: Girl?
ACTOR 1: Yep. What’s her name?
PAUL: Um . . . we don’t have . . .
KATHY: I was sure he was a boy.
ACTOR 1 (joking): Well, I assure you she’s not.
KATHY: Girl . . .
[KATHY unwraps the pink blanket to reveal a feminine baby dress and adds it with the baby blanket to the life detritus that comprises the border.]
ALL (singing): Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Tasha, happy birthday to you.
ACTOR 2 (singing): And many more . . . on channel fo—
ACTOR 3: (handing JACK a wrapped gift)—Open mine first.
[JACK opens the package to reveal a Barbie doll in its box. He sets it aside.]
ACTOR 3: Do you like it?
JACK: Uh . . . yeah. Thanks.
ACTOR 3: My mom thought you would like it.
PAUL: This is from your Grandma.
[JACK unwraps a pair of girls’ (white) figure skates, looks at them in the box and puts them aside]
PAUL (cont.): Now we can go to the rink together.
JACK: Oh.
PAUL: You said you wanted to learn to skate. I’ll get you a coach and we can go together.
JACK: Thanks.
[JACK leaves the skates in the box, and adds them to the artifacts on the border. KATHY leaves the Barbie in the box, adding it to the artifacts.]
JACK: Mom, can I ask you a question?
KATHY: Yeah, what is it?
JACK: I have to know if Santa is really real.
KATHY: Why do you have to know that?
JACK: Because if Santa is really real, he can do anything, right?
KATHY: Yes . . .
JACK: I need to ask Santa to make me a boy.
KATHY: Why do you need to ask him that?
JACK: Because I’m really a boy.
[JACK retrieves a Tonka truck from the border and plays with it through the following scene]
KATHY: We have to tell her that trans* is a thing, that people actually do this. Paul, she’s turning 11 soon.
PAUL: You don’t think I know that?
KATHY: We have to have this conversation. Now’s the time.
PAUL: We don’t have any idea if it’s safe. We don’t know what long term effects are. This is really dangerous.
KATHY: We don’t know that.
PAUL: Look, I’m making a decision—
KATHY: We have to do this.
PAUL: I’ll think about it.
KATHY: There’s a doctor in the city who specializes in adolescent transkids.
PAUL: I said I’ll think about it.
KATHY: You and Tasha have to go. Can you imagine what getting her period would be like for Tasha?
PAUL: I’ll think about it.
[KATHY addresses audience directly]
KATHY (cont.): Paul and I were in different places. I think he had a much harder time because he didn’t want to, you know, “lose his little girl.” I was the one who told Jack that this is a thing, this is a thing and trans* is something that you can do and we can make identity accommodations. We all decided that we would go ahead, as a family, once Paul adjusted to the idea and the inevitability and come to . . . I don’t know what issues he might have had with it, but whatever it was, he was able to move forward.
JACK: I like my middle name. Call me Jack
ACTOR 1: Alright, my man. You’re a handsome young dude, Jack.
JACK (clearly pleased): Thanks.
ACTOR 1: How do you feel?
JACK: I feel great. I wanna do this.
PAUL: I know. We just don’t know the risks.
JACK (pleading): Dad.
ACTOR 1: If this is something we move forward with, I would prescribe Lupron. It was originally designed as a cancer drug, but one of the side effects is that it blocks estrogen. While you’re taking it, you won’t develop breasts, and you won’t get your period.
JACK: I absolutely need to do this.
PAUL: Jack, you’re 11. Let’s think about it? We don’t know the risks.
JACK: I have to.
ACTOR 1: You should know, it’s not permanent at first. This will buy some time. If you guys change your minds, we stop the treatment and Jack will develop as a biological girl. If you don’t change your mind, we begin testosterone in a few years. That’s not reversible.
PAUL: You’re proposing we put a pause on puberty?
ACTOR 1: Yeah.
PAUL: Look we’re talking about altering my kid’s biology. Wait, wait, wait a minute. What does this mean? What are the down-the-road ramifications of that?
ACTOR 1: We can take our best guess.
JACK: Dad?
PAUL (to audience): As we looked into it more, thank god for the Internet. Can you imagine before the Internet and all we had access to was the public library? What would we have done? What we found out was that there was a decent amount of information at the college level and accessible to the college student. A little, little, every here and there, a little bit for teenagers, high school level. Nothing middle school and down. There was nothing for us to turn to just to find out, to inform ourselves. What’s the right thing to do? What’s the right way to handle this? I do not know. All I know is I’m on the phone with teachers, doctors, blue cross, a counselor and the director of a camp advocating for my kid. That’s all I know.
JACK: I’m afraid you’ll think I’m weird.
ACTOR 2 (laughing): Too late.
JACK: Seriously.
ACTOR 2: Alright, what?
JACK: You won’t think I’m weird?
ACTOR 2: Whatever, just tell me.
JACK: Well, when I start at Pine I’m going to . . . well, what I mean is . . . I’m really a guy, you know?
ACTOR 2: What?
JACK: I’m a guy, and I’m gonna go by Jack. Everyone will know me as a guy.
ACTOR 2: Oh.
JACK: Please don’t think I’m weird.
ACTOR 2: Dude, whatever. It’s cool. I don’t care. You’re my best friend.
JACK: You don’t care?
ACTOR 2: Dude, whatever you are, boy, girl? I don’t care. I’m good with it. Whatever.
OFF STAGE (over the loudspeaker): This month’s sixth-grade student of the month is Natasha Shepard. Congratulations, Natasha.
ACTOR 2: When Jack finished that problem, she was correct in using the distributive property, and the only reason I point it out as mistaken is because she made a simple arithmetic error, you see? Here? So make sure you always double-check the arithmetic. (In response to a raised hand.) Yes, Adam
ACTOR 4: Mr. Gross. What did you say?
ACTOR 2: I said that Jack just made a simple error and we all need to double-check our arithmetic.
ACTOR 4: Did you say “she”?
ACTOR 2: No. Why would I do that?
ACTOR 4: I don’t know.
ACTOR 3: Mr. Gross, I think you said, “she.”
ACTOR 2: Of course not. Don’t be silly.
ACTOR 3: You said, “she.”
ACTOR 2: Nonsense.
ACTOR 1 (to ACTOR 3): Is Jack really a girl?
ACTOR 3: I don’t know. Maybe?
ACTOR 2 (to ACTORS 1, 3, and 4): I think Jack’s really a girl.
ACTOR 4: Jack’s totally a girl.
OFF STAGE (over the loudspeaker): Please excuse the interruption. Natasha Shepard please come to the office. Natasha Shepard to the office.
[All of the characters hear the announcement and look at JACK. After a moment, JACK exits. He picks up his guitar and plays it through Scenes 9, 11, and 12.]
PAUL: He’s coming home from school and just running to the bathroom. I don’t think he’s using the restroom all day.
ACTOR 1: Um . . . uh . . . Mr. Shepard?
PAUL: He needs to be told he can use the boys’ bathroom.
ACTOR 1: Mr. Shepard, we can’t let him do that.
PAUL: Well he doesn’t want to go to the girls’. Some of the kids know him as a boy. Going to the girls’ room would be terrible for him.
ACTOR 1: We simply, really, we can’t let him use the boys’ room. There would be an uproar from parents.
PAUL: This is an uproar. He has to be allowed to go to the bathroom.
ACTOR 1: Alright, we’ll give him access to the nurse’s bathroom. There’s a private bathroom in there. I’ll tell the nurse and he can go there wherever he needs.
JACK: They’re letting me use the nurse’s bathroom. I mean I guess it’s better than nothing. But . . . what are people gonna say? “Why’s Jack always going to the nurse’s office?” “What’s wrong with him that he’s always in the nurse’s office?” I mean, I feel isolated enough already. . . . I can hold it.
PAUL: What do you mean he has to sleep with the girls?
ACTOR 2: That’s the policy.
PAUL: You have a policy for this? I thought this was new to you?
ACTOR 2: There is no way we will have a biological girl sharing a tent with biological boys. No way. She can always stay home.
PAUL: Stay home? The entire sixth grade goes on this trip.
ACTOR 2: It’s not up to me. Say she’s sick. If she wants to come, she shares with girls.
PAUL: But the kids know him as a boy?
ACTOR 2: If she comes, she shares with girls.
PAUL: He wants to share a tent with his friends, just like every other kid.
ACTOR 2: What if something happened?
PAUL: What?
ACTOR 2: What if she’s sharing the tent with biological boys and something happens because she’s a girl?
PAUL: Nothing’s gonna happen. He’s staying with his friends.
ACTOR 2: Look Mr. Shepard. Absolutely no way. No way. I’m sorry. At this camp, I’m sorry, at this camp, housing is based on genitalia. Period. This is not negotiable. Housing is based on genitalia.
PAUL: We were at Pine last year and wanted to try somewhere else.
ACTOR 4: Great, we’d love to have you.
KATHY: We’re concerned about our son’s safety. He transitioned last year, transitioned to a boy last school year.
ACTOR 4: Okay.
KATHY: He’s trans*. He started his transition the summer before . . . and things didn’t go as well as we would have hoped.
ACTOR 4: Mrs. Shepard, at Mountain Art School we celebrate everyone for who they are.
PAUL: They all say that.
ACTOR 4: The culture here’s different. You’ll see.
PAUL: They said the same thing at Pine.
ACTOR 4: What can we do to help your son?
ACTOR 4: I’ve spoken with his teachers about this already, but for those of you who don’t know, a seventh-grade transboy will be starting here. To prepare for this, Emily and I have done some research and changed our handbook. We’ve been working pretty closely with his parents and we have no doubt that MAS is the right school for him. I’m sure you agree.
ACTOR 1: Where was he last year?
ACTOR 4: He was at Pine, but I as I understand it, it wasn’t a great fit for him. We’ve contacted Trans Youth Family Allies and they’re here to talk to us about it. I mean, it’s new to me, but in working with them and the board, we’ve included in our bylaws and on the website a nondiscrimination transgender policy. You must read this.
ACTOR 1: I mean this is a non-issue. Who cares?
ACTOR 4: For some of us this is a non-issue, but it may not be for your students or their parents, so the policies are in the student handbook. Make sure you go over it in advisory. All of the students and their parents have to sign the last page of handbook. PLEASE, please do this. (In response to a raised hand) Yeah, Mike.
ACTOR 2: What’s the policy change?
ACTOR 4: The bathroom policy now says students can use the bathroom that corresponds with the gender they present at school. If a student disagrees with this, or any student really who wants additional privacy, can use the faculty bathroom.
ACTOR 2: Same with field trips?
ACTOR 4: Yeah. Kids can share tents or hotel rooms or whatever with the students of their gender. Any kids who have a problem with this can sleep on their own . . . at an additional cost if it applies.
ACTOR 1: I mean it’s a human fucking right. Jesus Christ. Can’t the bigots get over themselves?
ACTOR 4: Incidentally, Ryan, due to lack of evidence to the contrary, we’re pretty sure that MAS is the first school in the state to have a transgender policy, and I personally am very proud of that, and I think we all should be.
JACK: Kelcie, I need you to do something.
ACTOR 1: Yeah?
JACK: You know I’m Jack now, right?
ACTOR 1: Yeah.
JACK: I need you to keep my former . . . my girl life . . . life as Tasha a secret. I’m really a boy.
ACTOR 1: Really a boy . . . ?
JACK: I was born a girl, but I’m a boy. They said I was a girl, but I’m not a girl. Do you get it? I’m a boy.
ACTOR 1: Ok . . . ?
JACK: This is how it’s gonna be. I’m a boy. People and the teachers here know me as Jack. They don’t know Tasha. They’ll call me “he.” Can you do this? I need you to call me “he” and “Jack.”
ACTOR 1: Yeah. Ok.
ACTOR 4: Are you really a girl?
JACK: No. It’s not true. I’m not her. I don’t know what they’re talking about.
ACTOR 4: She said she knew you in elementary school and that your name is Tasha, and you’re really a girl.
JACK: I know what she said, and it’s not true.
ACTOR 4: Why would she say that?
JACK: I don’t know. It’s not true. I don’t know why she’s making it up.
JACK: I wanna tell you something, but you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.
ACTOR 3: What?
JACK: I wanna tell you something, but you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone.
ACTOR 3: Alright.
JACK: Promise?
ACTOR 3: I promise, Jack. What is it?
JACK: I’m trans*.
ACTOR 3: What?
JACK: When I was born, they said I was a girl. I had a girl name. People said I was a girl until I was in sixth grade. When sixth grade started, I started to live out my real gender the one that fits who I am.
ACTOR 3: So you’re really a girl?
JACK: No. I’m really a boy, but when I was younger everybody made a mistake.
ACTOR 3: Oh . . .
JACK: I want my friends to know the real me, my whole story, so I’ve been telling people a little at a time, the people I think I can trust. Do you get it?
ACTOR 3: Yeah. I don’t care. I love you for you, Jack.
JACK: I told Grace today. I want her to know the real me, I want everyone to know the real me, but I’m so afraid of things returning to the way they were. Coming out to people is . . . even if it’s your best friend. They might say, really? I’ve known you for so long and you’re all of a sudden gonna change it? (Beat.) Even though it’s a risk, I tell people because I want more people in my grade to know before we left . . . after high school for college. (Beat.) I think if I just kept it in and then started gradually telling people outside of high school they would kind of be like, I can’t see you, I can’t tell you how I actually feel and express my love towards you. Why didn’t you tell me? The people I’ve told have kept it a secret, and I know if anybody asks them about that . . . I haven’t heard anything, but if they did, they would say, “no” because they would respect that I wanna keep it a secret.
PAUL: As parents, our approach was to be supportive. Be supportive of whatever it is. I didn’t know of transgender. I don’t know any of this stuff. I’m just advocating for my kid.
KATHY: It’s a no-brainer. It’s unconditional acceptance. Within moral limits, of course. But as far as his gender identity . . .? There was never any question for me that this was something that needed total recognition and validation.
PAUL: That danger, the potential of danger lurks at every corner for any transgender person. In this small little town in this red state, there’s a good faction that doesn’t understand, that doesn’t want to.
KATHY: Things changed when I started thinking of him as my son instead of my daughter. There are times when I find myself being more like, “Well, I’m a parent of a boy now. Yeah. I have to firm up.” But, I treat him with extra sensitivity because that’s who he is. That’s who he is.
PAUL: The pressure that I felt was not so much about my child’s well-being or what the mother wanted or anything like that. My pressure was that we’re racing the calendar a little bit because that first period could happen anytime now, breast development any time.
KATHY: Let your kid be your guide. Whatever direction your child is going in, if it’s possible for you to be supportive, support him. But if you’re going to be accepting, you’re going to have to fight other people. That’s just a fact of life. You’re going to have to . . . there will be people who won’t accept it. It’s something that is not easy that you’re doing. You have to recognize is that it’s going to be hard, there are going to be some things that you can’t anticipate.
PAUL: We are not embarrassed. His mother and I have not for a moment, not for a fraction of a second, not for a damn moment have we ever been embarrassed about who Jack is. Yet it’s not necessarily in his best interest for everybody to know, right? Bullying happens. Scary stuff happens when you’re a parent. Things happen out of your control.
KATHY: I get this thing all the time, “Oh you’re the most wonderful, you’re the most wonderful parent.” I get that all the time, and it’s like, “Dude, I spent a lot of time crying off my mascara. This has been really rough and it’s not what anybody signs up for.” Except, except in a sense that you give your kid unconditional love. That’s what you do. You’re their parent.
JACK: I mean, every day, it’s still nerve-wracking. Even going to the school that I go to, it’s still nerve-wracking that people might know, and they might not like the idea. I don’t know, there’s still the fear that one day everybody’s going to know and then nobody’s going to talk to you, and bullies might happen. Even at this school, this art school that I go to bullies might happen. But, it’s worth the risk . . . It’s worth the risk. I just want people to know the real me. I just want to live out my true gender. I mean, this is just the way I am, and people, my friends, my teachers, people. People are beginning to see me, the real, the whole me.
PAUL: How do you see someone the way they want to be seen? How do you love them?
KATHY: Don’t all parents just want their kids to be happy?
PAUL: How hard would you fight for what you think is important?
ACTOR 1: Well, aren’t you just a little princess?
JACK: What does it mean to be perceived as weak? Weak how?
ACTOR 2: You need to develop a harder shell if you’re going to succeed as a man in this world.
KATHY: The reality is that there are dangers around every corner.
JACK: I just want to be allowed to be the person I am.
ACTOR 3: Stop acting like a girl.
ACTOR 2: Why don’t you like football?
ACTOR 1: I love my princess slippers. They’re fabulous.
ACTOR 3: You think there’s a place for sensitivity here? Stop kidding yourself.
ACTOR 4: Act like a man.
ACTOR 1: Boys don’t wear dresses.
ACTOR 4: You throw like a girl.
JACK: I’m just a kid living out my true gender. That’s it. Simple, right?
ACTOR 1: Do you perform manliness so people will see the person you want to be?
PAUL: What do you see when you look at other people? Do you see them in the way they want to be seen?
KATHY: How do they know that?
JACK: Are you seen the way you want to be seen?
PAUL: How do you know?
JACK: What can you do? What can you do to show people you see them the way they want to be seen?
[Curtain.]
Epilogue
Much of the scholarly literature in the field of LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, and queer) school experiences involves advocacy that seeks to combat violence perpetrated against LGBTQ students and to stress equity in school practices (Blackburn, 2005; Francis, 2010; Paechter, 2006, 2009; Rasmussen, 2009; Sweet & Carlson, 2017). However, scholars also establish school as a space in which gender norms are firmly regulated and reinforced, compelling gender-nonconforming students toward compliance, and sanctioning those who refuse or are unable to fall in line (Connell, 2005; Francis, 2010; Ingrey, 2012; Kimmel, 2008, 2012; Rasmussen, 2009; Sweet & Carlson, 2017). Heteronormative gender performances and legibility become the default normativity in many schools. Moreover, schools tend to promote masculinities that foster heterosexual relationships, or heteropatriarchy. The ethnodrama examines the ways that default normativity and heteropatriarchy get reproduced as “normal” in school, and it also shows instances and practices that encourage gender and sexuality as fluid, flexible, and multiple.
As trans* and gender creative students become increasingly visible on school campuses nationwide, school communities must work to affirm these students’ gender identities and expressions. Rather than “normalizing” gender’s multiplicity, the FTM family and some school practices in this study recognize gender diversity and fluidity as “ordinary” (Miller, 2016). According to Butler (2004), regulation of gender is “bound up with the process of normalization” (p. 53). “Normalization” implies a model of gender that privileges specific ontologies and forecloses alternatives; by its very nature, “normalization” resists queering as it insists on conformity. On the contrary, practices that refuse to regulate gender tend to accept the “ordinariness” of gender multiplicities. Individuals who accept gender creative students as “ordinary” tend to reject practices that police “normal” gender expressions. Recent scholarship has shown that the policing of “normalcy” tries to force gender creative students into conformity (Miller, 2016).
Butler (2004) asserts gender is a recursive process of undoing and doing, and provides new understandings of the ways in which trans* and gender creative people are denigrated, undone, produced, and affirmed. Her theory insists that there is no a priori norm, no essentialized origin, but gender and human beings in general continue to change and proliferate as they are always situated and malleable. At the same time, gender affirmation hinges on intelligibility which is dictated by social norms that provide frameworks for those whose genders are deemed intelligible or unintelligible. However, intelligibility is also contestable and historically situated as social norms shift across time and contexts; because gender is continually remade and situated, it has the potential to challenge social norms, thus shifting conventions of intelligibility. When people’s genders deviate from regulatory norms, they are viewed as aberrant and are either normalized or exploited by regulatory powers “to shore up the rationale for [the power’s] own continuing regulatory zeal” (Butler, 2004, p. 52). In other words, regulatory powers use instances of aberration either to enforce “normality” onto the subject or to reify their foothold in “normalizing” behavior. Given intelligible gender is a presupposition of humanness (Butler, 2004; Stryker, 2008), those who perform alternative gender expressions are judged as not only unintelligible but also lacking humanness. However, intelligibility is contestable and historically situated as social norms shift across time and contexts. Despite this regulatory power “justly or unjustly govern[ing] the recognizability of the human (Butler, 2004, p. 59), expressive and affirming acts of recognition can offset power norms to validate one’s humanness and confirm their status within a community (Honneth, 1996). For example, in his chilling autoethnography about his FTM transition, Nordmarken (2014) relies on Stryker’s (2008) notion of the monstrous to highlight the agony, humiliation, and alienation he suffers when his gender is misrecognized, and also discusses the ways that recognition validates his humanity: “As my legibility as male (rather than female or ‘indiscernible’) becomes clearer to others, my legibility as a person, as human, becomes clearer to others. I experience people in a new way” (p. 43). In summary, Nordmarken explicates one of the ways that recognition validates one’s humanness.
By presenting school practices of recognition, this ethnodrama aims to produce new opportunities for refashioning and resituating the social norms that currently bracket possibilities for gender expression. Situating gender theory within performative texts such as this one helps to unpack the ways that default normativity and heteropatriarchy get reproduced as normal in school. From this, we can choose “ordinariness” over “normalization” and perform alternative pedagogical practices that position gender and sexuality as fluid, flexible, and multiple. In rupturing long-established school practices that privilege fixity and gender binary, the ethnodrama fills needed gaps in the literature and contributes to the important field of gender studies in education. By presenting the lived experience of one transboy, the play creates a personal narrative rather than a theoretical or abstract discourse. The play creates empathy; and empathy moves us closer to ordinariness because many of us identify with several aspects of this transboy’s life. While the section above situates the performance in pertinent gender theory, the following contextualizes it with prevailing scholarly literature in ethnodrama.
Ethnodrama is a performance-based methodology that uses qualitative data collection methods, such as interviews, field observations, and public documents; after analyzing and interpreting the data, one uses ethnodrama to represent the data through a dramatic script (Leavy, 2015). According to Denzin (1997), “performance text is the single, most powerful way for ethnography to recover yet interrogate the meanings of lived experience” (pp. 94-95). In addition, Augusto Boal (1979) writes that theater “is considered to present always a vision of the world in transformation and therefore is inevitably political insofar as it shows the means of carrying out that transformation” (p. xiii). In this quotation, Boal asserts one of his central theses: At its core, performance opens space for new possibilities and uncovers means for creating new sociopolitical realities. In keeping with Boal (1979), Saldaña (2011) also suggests that performance carries an “emancipatory potential” (p. 3) for catalyzing social change among the participants and the audience. As people embody and experience the physical actions and expressions of others, they create opportunities for new ways of knowing (Grey, 2003; Saldaña, 2011).
Although this ethnodrama capitalizes on the initializing power of performance to make social change, it also seeks to enrich understandings of trans* school experiences. Performance-based methodologies contextualize lived experience in such a way that individuals may become intelligible and, thus, sympathetic. This increases opportunities for empathy, recognition, and affirmation. The goals of this project align with Boal’s (1979) underlying theme that theater can expose oppression and also be a highly effective political weapon. As such, the performance of one transboy’s school experience exposes school practices and affects changes to ameliorate some of the struggles that trans* students face. This section provides an overview of some of the germane literature regarding ethnodrama and the following details the methods used to create the drama.
Method
The performance is distilled from a series of life history interviews (Roulston, 2010) with one FTM high school student, both of his parents, and semistructured interviews (Roulston, 2010) with two of his teachers, and one of his high school administrators. Each interview required less than 2 hrs. Protocol examples from the interview with the student include, “What does it mean to you to be a boy? What kind of guy do you want to portray?” Examples from the parent protocol include, “What is your philosophy of parenting? Can you talk a little bit about the course of events that occurred when your son transitioned?” Teacher and administrator protocols included questions like, “How does this student interact with peers? In what ways do you see him being gendered?” 2 In total, the interviews took place over 4 months and included one follow-up interview with the student and another with his father. One of the authors, Joseph D. Sweet, also served as the student’s seventh- and eighth-grade English teacher and established a good rapport with both the student and his family during these years. Incidentally, this research did not begin until the student was in 10th grade, and Mr. Sweet no longer served as a secondary English teacher. However, Mr. Sweet does have a personal connection with the participants and cares very deeply for his and his family’s well-being.
Each of the interviews was professionally transcribed, and the data underwent a thematic analysis (Flick, 2014) unearthing the following five themes: (a) school policy plays a vital role in affirming gender creative and trans* students’ gender identities and expressions, (b) recognition of one’s authentic gender correlates with positive self-image and corresponding self-worth, (c) recognition of the contributions of one’s social group to the school community at large fosters feelings of autonomy and positive self-image, (d) parental support and advocacy are central to trans* experiences of school, and (e) school communities that value art as a viable expression of masculinity appear to be more inclusive of gender fluidity, gender creative, and trans* gender expressions.
The ethnodrama creatively explores these themes by presenting experiences of gender that emerge from the data through a performance of moments in the student’s life history, particularly highlighting his school experiences. To create the performance, we again lean on Saldaña (2005) who writes, “The results are the participant’s and/or researchers combination of meaningful life vignettes, significant insights, and epiphanies. This process generates the material from which the structure and content—its plot and story line—are constructed” (p. 16). Although we occasionally include dialogue extracted directly from the interview transcripts, the process of writing the ethnodrama more closely aligns with a creative process that expands on moments of epiphany and insight. Saldaña (2005) writes, “Artistry enters when dialogue is artificially constructed from several sources of data gathered from different sites, different participants, and across different time periods” (p. 23). We rely on this approach throughout the dramatic script as we construct the majority of the ethnodrama’s dialogue by creating realistic scenes from significant events the interviews reveal.
Coda
This ethnodrama depicts Jack’s experiences and evaluates the ways his surrounding communities worked to recognize and validate him. The piece also performs moments of misrecognition to examine the ways in which communities invalidate and disrespect him. In doing so, the performance unearths modes of recognition that schools and surrounding communities can use to recognize and value the contributions and lives of trans* youth. These include changing school policy and bylaws to institute bathroom policies allowing all youth to use the toilet in a safe environment. This practice affirms their gender identity, yet performs this affirmation without isolating gender creative students. Similarly, schools are encouraged to allow students to share sleeping arrangements with students of corresponding gender identities, regardless of their sex assigned at birth. In addition, school policy should be implemented that specifically prohibits bullying resulting from gender identity and expression. Initial recognition and advocacy from parents also proves vital to adolescents as they transition.
Importantly, the piece reveals the implications of language when interacting with trans* students. Teachers and school communities must make every effort to refer to trans* students using their names of choice and preferred pronouns. School communities that fail to recognize and authenticate students’ gender identities and expressions invalidate them, crushing any semblance of autonomy that students might gain. Invalidation and misrecognition render them unintelligible; as Butler (2004) reminds us, those who possess unintelligible genders risk destruction. It is, therefore, everybody’s ethical responsibility to create and maintain cultures of safety that recognize and validate gender creative and trans* students.
Providing a safe environment affords recognition and affirmation of trans* youth (Honneth, 1996; Miller, 2015), thus creating the opportunity for them to disclose their complex gender history to their friends and school communities at large. Their complex gender histories must then be concurrently validated and recognized, and this recursive process recognizing complex gender histories begins to force understandings of gender outside binary discourse. Sandra Stone (1987), among others, implores trans* and gender creative people to reveal their gender history so that we can move beyond conceptualizing gender as a dualism. As such, Nordmarken (2014) argues that embracing monstrosity and occupying illegibilities can be a tool of resistance that opens space for the recognition of new legibilities.
Recognizing trans* and acknowledging gender com-plexity as “ordinary,” allows pedagogies of gender equity to flourish. These affirming actions will subsequently mitigate the impending dangers present when one’s gender is deemed unintelligible or illegible. Amid the current political climate, practices of affirmation and recognition must be encouraged and maintained, and the election of Donald Trump provides a consistent reminder that traditional ways of thinking about contemporary concepts and values are no longer sufficient for interrogating the crisis of humanity that gender-nonconforming people currently face. This ethnodrama uses nontraditional methodologies to bring this crisis to the fore so that we might endow new ways of finding meaning and temper some of the antipathy pervading U.S. culture, especially regarding trans* and gender creative individuals.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.