Back to the Back of the Bus
A couple of years ago, a delightful young man, “Bruce,” and his equally delightful father attended a small party at my house. It was the first time I’d met Bruce. He and I are both a bit shy, but we warmed up to each other fairly quickly and spent some time away from the rest of the crowd. We talked a lot about our pets, both being animal lovers. We talked about school—favorite subjects and teachers, as well as how a good school climate can be tainted by disrespectful students and staff.
I haven’t seen Bruce or his father since before the pandemic began. But I have been thinking about them lately. While they have been going about the business of living, the legislature has been building a major speed bump on the road to Bruce’s future. He will no longer be able to openly seek the medical care he needs from the providers he trusts. He will have to either go “underground” or leave the state. Bruce is one of those “trans teens” the legislators say they are protecting.
To add insult to injury, HB 1749 is now in the hands of the state senate, which would “…prohibit requiring public school…employees from addressing a student by a term that identifies a student as male or female and that is inconsistent with the student’s biological sex.”
So when Bruce returns to school next year, his teachers might be calling him “Brenda,” the name on his birth certificate. His friends know him as Bruce. His family calls him Bruce. He knows himself as Bruce. But our legislators, who have never met him, his family, or his physician, seem to have the impression that “Bruce” might be an inappropriate moniker.
When the legislature recently banned abortions, they did nothing to protect the mental and physical health of women who are traumatized by unwanted pregnancy. The principle here is the same: To outlaw medical and psychological care for trans kids does not, in fact, protect these kids. It makes their lives more difficult and their care harder to obtain—and thus, likely more expensive.
Even our conservative governor vetoed the bill that took away Bruce’s access to his doctors, proclaiming that passage of HB 1570 would make the legislature “the definitive oracle of medical care overriding parents, patients, and health care experts…,” and that “…the state should not presume to jump into the middle of every medical, human, and ethical issue. This would be, and is, a vast government overreach.” But Asa Hutchinson’s words fell on deaf legislative ears, and his veto was overridden.
My heart aches for Bruce, and others in similar shoes. Bruce’s transition is not a political statement. It’s his real life. His parents and medical providers support him through the process, wherever that process leads. Yet now this young man finds himself in the middle of a political divide that is creeping across the nation.
I do not doubt that some legislators feel, in earnest, that they are protecting young people. Perhaps they will next outlaw circumcision for baby boys—since it is not a medical necessity. Or ear piercing for baby girls. We should all take note. The way our legislature has been driving in reverse lately, they might soon have Blacks again at the back of the bus, women barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, and all LGBTQ folks locked in a closet without a key.