Learn, unlearn, repeat: Important conversations and lessons learned during Pride and Indigenous History Months

Ryan Trepanier is one of the first co-workers I meet after making the move to McMaster and joining the Faculty of Science.

Over the next seven years, we talk about the movies we’ve watched and the shows we’re streaming. From September to February, we talk about the National Football League.

Starting last fall, there’s something else we should talk about – Ryan is coming out at work as a trans woman. But I have no idea how to start that conversation or what to say.

When it comes to important conversations, I avoid them or behave like it’s open mic night at a low-rent comedy club. I don’t want to offend Ryan or embarrass myself by trying and failing to be funny so I say nothing.

Months go by. Silence may be golden but sometimes it’s rude.

And then I get invited to have an important conversation with someone else at McMaster where I don’t offend or embarrass myself.

Savage Bear – the Director of the McMaster Indigenous Research Institute and an Assistant Professor in the Indigenous Studies Department – wants to talk about two stories I’ve written about Indigenous students. I’m open to the feedback. I want to do a better job of telling stories – it’s important that every current and future student sees themselves in the stories I’m telling. This isn’t a conversation to avoid.

I aim to make a good first impression but overcompensate. I tell Savage that Thomas King is one of my favourite authors, that I just watched Blood Quantum (Ryan would approve of that movie) and I admit to having never studied residential schools while earning degrees in political science and journalism. Everything I’ve learned about residential schools started with Gord Downie’s The Secret Path legacy project –  when I was 48 years old. 

Savage listens patiently and then, in the kindest way possible, suggests I do more homework before interviewing other Indigenous students. She offers to be a resource and recommends the University of Alberta’s Indigenous Canada course on Coursera – I’m half-way through the 12 lessons. 

In my meeting with Savage, I learn, unlearn and leave with a game plan to tell better stories about brilliant science students.

I’ve also gained the confidence to have that long overdue conversation with Ryan – although I pitch it under the guise of an interview for a potential story. I ask Ryan if she’d be interested in talking about her experiences as a trans woman. Absolutely, says Ryan. We book a time to meet.

Like my meeting with Savage, I stumble out of the gate. We talk baseball instead of football. I find out Ryan’s been an umpire for more than a decade, calling balls and strikes in games played by collegiate athletes who are home for the summer. We complain about the cost of going to Blue Jays games and how Ryan’s skipping the team’s next annual Pride game. I show Ryan an app for discounted tickets without service fees. 

It’s Ryan who suggests we quit stalling – it’s time to talk about her experiences as a trans woman. Ryan leads with a disclaimer – she’s telling a singular story that’s uniquely her own. She’s not willing or able to be anyone’s resident expert on all things trans. “I can’t speak for all trans people, only myself.”  

With that, I launch into a confession.  While I’ve told just two stories about Indigenous students, I’ve yet to tell a single story about a trans student.  

Ryan gives me a pained look. “Statistically, that’s impossible. You’ve interviewed trans students but they just didn’t feel comfortable sharing their identity with you.”  

That stings so I ask what I should start and stop doing to be a better ally. Ryan has two suggestions. What I need to start I’ve never thought about. And what I need to stop I’ve been doing for a long time with good but misguided intentions. 

Start using your pronouns, says Ryan. This is the easiest thing I can start doing right away. Add pronouns to the signature line in your emails and share your pronouns when introducing yourself at meetings, says Ryan.  

“It’ll feel weird but you’ll save people like me from always having to queer the space first. When you take the initiative and do that work, you let everyone know this is a safe, or at least a safer, space to be themselves.” 

Pronouns are a big deal. Ryan says her transition started a few years earlier at a university event. Everyone got to pick pronouns for their name tags. Ryan went with “he/them” – it was a small yet very public first step – a moment of magnitude. Ryan’s pronouns are now “she/her/hers”. 

And here’s what I need to unlearn. I’ve long said that I don’t care if someone’s gay, bi, trans or non-binary. It’s none of my business. If you’re happy, I’m happy. I even say it to Ryan during our meeting. 

I believe that people who make it their business are bullies. And the worst bullies are the ones who profit off trafficking in transphobia – they deserve to trapped in an eternal and infernal book club where they can only read and discuss J.K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy. 

I’m slipping into my open mic stand-up comedy routine when Ryan cuts me off. She tells me to stop saying that I don’t care. “I need to know you care about people like me. Being trans is part of who I am – it’s integral to my identity. I need you to see that. It hurts when someone says that they don’t care if I’m trans – even if I get the intent behind what they’re saying.”

For Ryan, nothing’s better than being seen by strangers who show they care by getting her gender right in conversations. “People don’t fully appreciate how good it feels to be seen for who you are. It’s like the warmest of hugs.” 

That feeling was in full effect during a women’s curling bonspiel earlier this year – “my best day so far as a trans woman” says Ryan. Not once did any woman ask why Ryan was there. She felt accepted the entire time. “I was just one of 64 women – and that’s the first time I’d ever felt that.” 

We’ve been talking for an hour and I’m acutely aware that Ryan’s paying “the minority tax”. It’s a term I first heard during an interview with assistant professor Shaiya Robinson. Racialized and marginalized colleagues are expected to be resident experts, sit on hiring committees and serve on task forces struck to build a more inclusive workplace. This extra work rarely factors into performance reviews. Ryan has lots of other work to do beyond educating me. 

So I wrap up with two final questions for Ryan – are you safe and are you happy?  

It’s an enthusiastic yes on both counts. Ryan’s supervisor and colleagues have been fully supportive from day one. Same for her family and friends. Coming out as a trans woman has been easier than expected, says Ryan.  

Does she worry about what strangers might say or do – the bullies who could make Ryan’s business their business? Of course it’s a worry, says Ryan. There’s always a risk of being harassed and hurt.  

“But I’m not willing to be safe if it means staying silent. I’m not going to be invisible – I’ll always choose visibility even if that comes with a risk of transphobia.”  

As for her happiness, the people who love and know Ryan best have noticed a difference. “They say I’m softer and calmer, more at ease and much easier to be around. I’m sad only because it took me 37 years to get here. But I know I’m going to be happy for the next 37 years as a proud trans woman. And by being visible, I might save others from waiting and wasting 37 years to become the person they were always meant to be.” 

After our meeting, I send Ryan an email. I thank her for the overdue conversation, her patience and for teaching me how to learn and unlearn. I point out my new and improved signature line with my he/him pronouns. And I go one better, with my pronouns now appearing in the byline to this story.  

Ryan emails back. “I’m glad that I got to help make your job easier.” And she’s also given us one more thing to talk about. 

Summer Reading Recommendations 

• The Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers
• Care Of by Ivan Coyote
• The Truth About Stories by Thomas King
• Ally Is a Verb: A Guide to Reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples by Rose LeMay
• My Body is Distant by Paige Maylott
• 52 Ways to Reconcile: How to Walk with Indigenous Peoples on the Path to Healing by David A. Roberston 
• Pluralities by Avi Silver
• The Knowing by Tanya Talaga 

Campus and Community Resources

• Hamilton Trans Health Coalition 
• Pride Community Centre (McMaster)
• McMaster Indigenous Research Institute
• Indigenous Student Services