Selma's Story

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It's a little after 4 o'clock, and Selma Anderson just got home from school.

She and her twin sister Kezban jostle for space on the couch. The dog wants out. They have homework to do, but they'll do it later. Right now, their mom wants to know what happened today at school.

Selma and Kezban live with their mother and stepfather in a modest, cozy house on the eastern edge of Madison, Wis.

They are 13, 7th-graders at Sennett Middle School. Both girls have broad cheekbones, dark hair and a quick sense of humor. Selma, though, prefers long T-shirts over baggy shorts, while Kezban wears a pink hoodie with "Baby Girl" emblazoned on the back in fake diamonds. Selma's hair, short and shaggy, falls into her eyes, while Kezban wears her hair streaked with highlights and pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

Janet remembers an Easter Sunday 10 years earlier; it was the first clue, she says, that something was different. "They were 3 years old," she says. "Selma looked up at me and said, 'This is the last time I'm wearing a dress.' She just knew."

Selma remembers feeling "different" since the 1st grade. For a while, she wondered if she was gay -- her uncle is gay, and his sexual orientation is supported and acknowledged in her family's home. But for Selma, the label didn't quite fit.

Then, earlier in the school year, she happened across a television documentary about four transgender college students. It was like a light bulb went off. She sought out a book about gender identity and transgenderism. "I read that book," she says, "and I figured that was really who I was."

Handling the harassment
Adolescence is never easy; for kids like Selma, it can be doubly hard.

The Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation defines "transgender" as "(a)n umbrella term for people whose gender identity and/or gender expression differs from the sex they were assigned at birth." According to the Human Rights Campaign, the word "transgender" broadly applies to people who "express their gender somewhat differently from what most people expect." For Selma, it means "feeling like a boy, trapped in a girl's body."

Three years ago, the Anderson family left their Chicago home and moved to Madison. Their former school district was more racially and sexually diverse. "That meant it was more tolerant, too," Janet says.

Since the move, Janet has noticed an increase in ignorant comments from adults, including some teachers and other parents, directed at her daughter. "Adults have said, 'What a freak!' and 'Is that a girl or a boy?'"

Comments from other kids can be even worse. They tease her about her "boy clothes," she says; they call her "dyke". Other girls recoil in mock horror when she tries to use the girls' restroom; boys snicker and say cruel things as she passes in the hall.

Teasing like this is one reason most middle schools in Madison now have gay-straight alliances, student-run clubs that try to decrease name-calling and increase awareness of LGBTQ issues on campus. But the taunts can have another effect, some teachers say, preventing some kids from seeking out the services that could help them.

"Some kids are afraid to come (to GSA meetings) because of the stigma," said Rebecca Wennlund, faculty adviser for Sennett Middle School's new GSA. "But just knowing that it's there, that there's a group out there that represents them, I think can be really powerful."

'I just kept walking'
Earlier in the school year, Janet learned Selma had stopped using the restroom at school unless she could find a friend to stand guard outside the door. Soon, Selma was refusing to change for gym, for fear of being teased. A school social worker called home to arrange a meeting.

Janet says she marched into the counselor's office. "I said, 'This has go to stop. She can't keep getting harassed every time she goes in there.'" Janet and Selma met with Bonnie Augusta, the LGBTQ resource teacher for the Madison school district. Augusta then spoke with the school nurse, who agreed to let Selma use the nurse's private bathroom. Soon after, Augusta helped the school start its GSA.

A few weeks ago, Kezban attended the group's first meeting.

"How's the GSA going?" Janet asks her daughters after they've settled into their places on the couch.

Selma and Kezban look at each other.

Kezban shrugs. "Fine," she says.

Then Janet looks at Selma.

"I didn't join," Selma says.

Janet looks confused. "How come? I thought you both were going to the meetings."

Selma looks at her sister and then back to her mom. "I tried going," she says, "but there were a lot of kids in the hallway. I didn't want them to see me going in there. So I just kept walking."

Postscript: The preceding story was based on a series of in-person interviews from April 2006. But a lot can change in nine months, especially when you're a teenager.

In January 2007, her teacher reported that Selma "is in a much better place and it really shows." Janet Anderson says her daughter is more comfortable in her own skin, and that she's begun the process of coming out to friends and family. The Andersons are working with school officials to make sure Selma's transition to high school next year is as smooth as possible. For her part, Selma doesn't quite understand the fuss, or why a reporter would be interested in her story. She's too busy being an 8th-grader.

In the Classroom
As a writing assignment or class discussion, ask students to describe the ways in which LGBTQ people are treated in your school. Distribute copies of "This Is Why We Need a GSA" to students and allow class time for students to read the story. In what ways are the experiences of LGBTQ people in your school similar to, or different from, the experiences of students profiled in the story? Did the facts about anti-gay harassment surprise students? Brainstorm a list of ways to help make your school or community more welcoming for LGBTQ people, and act on them.

Teacher Reflection
Bonnie Augusta, the LGBTQ resource teacher for the Madison (Wis.) school district shares: "We have a teacher who, from a religious perspective, thinks homosexuality is wrong, but in her unit of the definition of 'family,' she includes same-sex families as an example. She says, 'If my students can't see themselves reflected in the curriculum, how are they going to learn to read?'" Although surely difficult, this teacher's choice was student-centered. Reflect on a time when your personal convictions conflicted with your professional responsibilities. What factors influenced your ultimate decision? Did your choice serve students' needs? Did it meet your professional responsibilities? Did the choice honor your personal convictions in an unexpected way? Would you make the same choice today? Why?

Professional Development
After reading this story as part of an in-service program or workshop, ask participants to brainstorm ways they can be allies to LGBTQ students and families. These ideas, from the University of North Carolina LGBTQ Center's Ally Program, can serve as useful prompts.

• Use gender-neutral terms, like "partner" or "significant other," instead of words like "boyfriend" or "girlfriend."
• Challenge homophobic jokes and comments in all situations.
• Point out when a historical figure or author is LGBTQ; don't dismiss LGBTQ contributions to society.