Ruth Bader Ginsburg has become a beloved feminist icon. Immortalized in numerous viral tweets and memes, she is endearingly referred to as “Notorious RBG” and a real-life “superhero,” Ginsburg has recently been the focus of the documentary RBG and the film On the Basis of Sex, released in May and December of 2018, respectively. Both are glowing portrayals of Ginsburg’s early career in the 1970s as a sex discrimination litigator.

During this period, Ginsburg co-founded the Women’s Rights Project at the ACLU and brought or participated in over three hundred sex discrimination cases and almost every major Supreme Court case on sex discrimination. This period in her career has made her so valorized that few understand the actual details of these cases and the sex discrimination legal standards that she left us with today.

The truth is that through the hundreds of sex discrimination cases that she litigated, Ginsburg systematically targeted and destroyed any and all affirmative action and public programs that favored women. Through her seminal cases such as Frontiero v. Richardson (1973) and Weinberger v. Wiesenfeld (1975)—some of her most famous “feminist” legal wins—Ginsburg left us with a legal standard that makes it extremely difficult, if not impossible, for federal, state, and local government entities; universities; and private institutions to create preferential policies for women.

Why would Ginsburg—who has become beloved for her viral feminist quotes—have devoted her pre-Supreme Court litigation career to destroying the preferential and affirmative action programs for women? White feminism.

Ginsburg ruthlessly litigated based on a white feminist legal theory called “anti-classification” theory, also known as “sameness feminism,” “sex-blindness,” or “anti-stereotyping” theory. Similar to the concept of color-blindness, sex-blindness is the belief that there should be no differentiation based on sex, even affirmative action and preferential policies. These white feminists, including Ginsburg, theorized that beneficial policies that differentiated on the basis of gender stereotyped women as weaker than men. Thus, they opposed these policies as sexist. It was an easy theory for white women to embrace, as sexism was often the only form of discrimination they faced, so the eradication of preferential sex treatment meant the eradication of their problems.

Ginsburg’s legal legacy is one that, against all reason, is predicated upon the inherently racist and classist belief that women should not receive any preferential treatment, at the devastating expense of the most vulnerable populations within the category of women who needed these preferential policies—poor, queer, and non-white women. Although it may not have been Ginsburg’s explicit intent to harm the most marginalized of women, part of the insidiousness of white feminism is that it convinces its believers that the white woman’s experience is the universal experience for all women, and that all women aspire to the social position of white men. In the end, it is not the intent, but the devastating impact that matters.

Ginsburg left us with a legal standard that makes it extremely difficult, if not impossible...to create preferential policies for women.
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Propelled by this sex-blindness theory, despite intense criticism by non-white women legal theorists, Ginsburg’s supposedly shining period in the 1970s as a litigator for the ACLU was in actuality a period during which she strategically litigated hundreds of cases that targeted and destroyed any policy that benefited women over men.

In Craig v. Boren (1976)—one of her most high profile “feminist” wins that launched her to fame—Ginsburg argued before the Supreme Court on behalf of her male plaintiff that an Oklahoma statute that required men to be older to buy beer than women was sex discrimination against men, and thus unconstitutional. The Supreme Court ruled in her favor. In Weinberger v. Wiesenfeld (1975), Ginsburg represented a white male widower before the Supreme Court and argued that Social Security regulations that permitted female widows but not male widowers to collect special benefits while caring for minor children was reverse sex discrimination. The court agreed, and she got the preferential Social Security regulation towards women abolished.

In Califano v. Goldfarb (1977), Ginsburg represented yet another white male plaintiff, arguing that the Social Security Act’s allotment of greater survivor’s benefits to female widows than male widowers was unconstitutional. In her oral argument before the Supreme Court, Ginsburg explained why sex discrimination against men should be regarded the same as sex discrimination against women: “[A]lmost every discrimination against males operates against females, as well…. I don’t know of any line that doesn’t work as a two-edged sword, doesn’t hurt both sexes.”

The list is endless. In case after case, Ginsburg executed a strategic plan to target and destroy any and all preferential public or private policy that favored women over men. According to “Ruth Bader Ginsburg ‘s Equal Protection Clause: 1970-80” by Wendy Webster Williams, a final tally of Ginsburg’s cases revealed that 4 to 1, Ginsburg represented male (likely mostly white) plaintiffs over female plaintiffs. Ginsburg systematically litigated cases that were nearly identical in pattern to advance her agenda. She represented white male plaintiffs, alleged that a law or policy that gave preference to women was reverse sex discrimination against her male plaintiff, and claimed that this differentiation on the basis of sex was thus unconstitutional. She did this with the explicit goal of decimating preferential policies towards women, because she, as a white woman, held the white feminist belief that any distinction drawn between men and women—even in the form of affirmative action—meant that (white) women could never be seen as equal to (white) men.

Interestingly, On the Basis of Sex even chronicles Ginsburg as she litigates one of her male plaintiff cases to destroy a preferential program for women. In the trailer, Felicity Jones, acting as Ginsburg, proclaims, “If the law differentiates on the basis of sex, then how are men and women ever supposed to be equal. . . This is sex based discrimination against a man.” The film portrays Ginsburg as a heroine as she proclaims that men can be victims of reverse sex discrimination.

The impact of the hundreds of cases that she litigated is devastating. The legal standard that she created, called “intermediate scrutiny,” requires courts to review any law or policy that classifies on the basis of sex, even benign ones that preference women, with heightened scrutiny and an inherent belief that any classification, even ones used to benefit women, are invidious and harmful. Intermediate scrutiny is an extremely difficult burden for affirmative action and preferential policies to survive. Thus, Ginsburg, through the cases that she brought during the height of her supposed feminist career, not only eliminated existing preferential policies for women, she largely destroyed the possibility of future beneficial policies to women.

Numerous high-profile cases after the 1970s were brought and continue to be brought to take advantage of the intermediate scrutiny standard Ginsburg instated. These cases were brought in order to destroy programs beneficial to women. For example, in Miss. U. for Women v Hogan (1982), the Supreme Court, based on the heightened legal standard of scrutiny that Ginsburg set, ruled that the nursing school’s affirmative action admissions policy for women was unconstitutional and forced it to accept men as well. In JEB v Alabama (1994), the Supreme Court, based on the standard that Ginsburg set, ruled that women can not strike male jurors based on their gender, because this was supposedly sex discrimination against men.

The impact of the hundreds of cases that she litigated is devastating.
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How many universities, government agencies, employers, and public and private institutions have and continue to refrain from creating preferential policies to preferentially admit, hire, or provide more resources to women? How many women out there, especially marginalized women, would have benefitted from preferential policies throughout their lives? Across all public and private entities, across all industries, the ability to create preferential policies to benefit women has been forever restricted by Ginsburg.

The issue is that, while privileged white women like Ginsburg were eager to destroy preferential policies for women for the mere symbolism of being considered equal to white men—the poor, queer, and non-white women who desperately need these programs far more than white women were left stranded.  According to “Feminist Disagreement (Comparatively Recast)” in the 2008 Harvard Journal of Law & Gender, white women legal theorists like Ginsburg believed that men could be victims of reverse sexism, and that the pinnacle of equality for women was not radically revamping of the structure of sex discrimination, but instead aspiring to be considered equal to white men. Ginsburg shaped the case law in a way in which affirmative action programs for women are all but eviscerated—all because privileged white women like Ginsburg chafed at the idea of being considered different from men and being given “special” treatment.

Ginsburg’s strategy of destroying existing and future potential preferential policies for women has been rightly criticized by legal theorists. Radical legal feminist and Professor of Law Catharine A. MacKinnon wrote in Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law regarding Ginsburg’s “feminist” litigation, “[M]uch of what has passed for feminism in law has been the attempt to get for men what little has been reserved for women.” Professor Judith Baer in Advocate on the Court: Ruth Bader Ginsburg and the Limits of Formal Equality, in Rehnquist Justice: Understanding the Court Dynamic wrote on Ginsburg’s sex discrimination cases, “So far men have been the primary beneficiaries of the new sexual equality doctrine. Ruth Ginsburg has given no indication that this outcome troubles her.”

Ginsburg’s disturbing legal history evinces a greater truth—middle and upper class white women like Ginsburg are able to advance to the upper echelons of society and obtain the privileges of white men that they desperately seek. According to Professor of Law Yxta Maya Murray in “A Jurisprudence of Nonviolence,” the white women who advanced this sex-blindness theory aspired to be thought of as equal to white men and attain the social and economic privileges of white men, which upper class white women eventually did—perhaps with little thought to the enormous harm that they enacted upon poor women and women of color, who faced other forms of violence and discrimination that would keep them from achieving equality with white men.

In her seminal article “Race and Essentialism in Feminist Legal Theory,” Professor of Law at UC Davis School of Law Angela P. Harris wrote, “[I]n feminist legal theory, as in the dominant culture, it is mostly white, straight, and socioeconomically privileged people who claim to speak for all of us. Not surprisingly, the story they tell about ‘women,’ despite its claim to universality, seems to black women to be peculiar to women who are white, straight, and socioeconomically privileged…”

For decades, non-white women legal theorists have strongly criticized Ginsburg for gutting legally sanctioned affirmative action for women, and for her complete obsession with white women attaining the status of white men that has wreaked immeasurable harm on poor women and women of color. Black critical race feminist legal theorists such as Angela P. Harris, Kimberle Crenshaw, Dorothy Roberts, and Angela Onwuachi-Willig have long critiqued the brand of white liberal feminism that Ginsburg advanced as class-privileged, inherently racist, and harmful towards non-white, non-straight women.

Yet, few outside of the insular world of legal academia know of these critiques. The public continues to fawn over Ginsburg as our generation’s feminist icon as the poor, queer, and non-white women that were inevitably sacrificed by her white feminist ideals remain vulnerable targets of violence. Some of that is because most people aren’t reading through all her legal decisions, and the summaries, on their face, sound good. But perhaps the reason why these critiques remain obscure in the eyes of the public—while Ginsburg’s star continues to rise—is because the world is more than willing to love violent white women who throw non-white women, poor women, and queer women under the bus.

Ginsburg has become an enormous cultural icon, yet her brand of feminism is only beneficial to one type of woman—class-privileged white women. For the millions of queer, poor, and non-white women out there who have had preferential university admissions, healthcare, and public benefit programs inevitably snatched from them by Ginsburg and white feminist litigators’ work, we cannot afford to continue valorizing this brand of feminism. We do not have the privilege of being rich and white. We do not have the privilege of having our entire political orientation rest upon aspiring to be granted the same privileges of white men. We live at the crossroads of race, class, and gender violence. Who actually benefits from Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s legacy? Certainly not us.

Carolina Algara* wanted to work almost anywhere but the chocolate factory in Louisiana, but that’s what she did, for four years in a row.

Each year, recruiters for the United States’ temporary work visa programs would arrive in her rural town in central Mexico and offer the men options for jobs north of the border: in farming, forestry, landscaping, carnivals, hotels. And each year, the women (with their “nimble fingers perfect for delicately sorting chocolates”) were offered only the factory.

“It was my only option—I didn’t know what else to do,” Algara said. “Recruiters would say outright, ‘No, I don’t have opportunities for women—these positions are only for men.’”

The chocolate factory—like many companies willing to hire migrant women under the H2 visa programs—paid badly, offered no overtime, and had no tolerance for complaints or illness. After speaking out about the conditions in the chocolate factory, Algara was not hired to return for a fifth year.

For Algara, and for countless migrant women like her, the initial discrimination during recruitment served as an introduction to a part of the U.S. immigration system where equal protection under the law is nothing more than a catch-phrase. When it comes to the H2 programs (H2-A and H2-B for agricultural and non-agricultural work, respectively), women consistently get the short end of the stick: in everything from job placement to task assignments, and from sexual harassment to wage allotment. And yet, they continue to return, filling the perennial labor needs of a system that disincentivizes their participation.

“In Mexico in particular, discrimination across the board is very commonplace,” said Julia Coburn, director of operations for worker advocacy organization, Centro de los Derechos del Migrante (CDM), and coordinator of CDM’s Migrant Women’s Project. “But I think in the United States, discrimination across the board is very commonplace as well. It’s something that we see in jobs of all types, all around the country, but it is especially pronounced in the H2 visa programs.”

When it comes to the H2 programs, women consistently get the short end of the stick: in everything from job placement to task assignments, and from sexual harassment to wage allotment.
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There are three main steps (and three main bureaucratic actors) in the H2 visa approval process. First, an employer hoping to utilize temporary labor petitions the Department of Labor (DOL) for foreign labor certification. During this process, the employer is required to show that their need is temporary, and that they have already tried (and failed) to recruit U.S. workers. Second, the employer submits a petition to the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to finalize approval. Finally, prospective workers apply for visas through the Department of State, via the government of their home country. As of January 2018, there are 83 countries eligible for H2 visas.

In Mexico, one of the biggest markets for temporary labor, it is common for a recruiter to serve as the middle-man between labor and bureaucracy. Companies who have been allotted a certain number of visa slots hire recruiters, who tend to have a license to recruit in a town or region in Mexico. The process is chaotic; migrants talk of announcements on village loudspeakers, hours in line under the hot sun, over 200 dollars (4000 pesos) pressed into recruiters’ hands to save a spot in the visa application process. Even those who return to the U.S. year after year are subject to this dysfunction.

When workers arrive, their legal status is entirely tied to their employer; they cannot change positions or companies. Workers typically reside in the U.S. for just a season, and many have families that they support during the off-season with their wages from their work north of the border. A September 2017 report by CDM and the University of Pennsylvania’s Transnational Legal Clinic showed that women were particularly likely to be supporting families—94 percent of those surveyed (which included all visa categories aside from the J1 ‘au pair’ program) spent an average of 70 percent of their earnings on “childcare and other family support.”

While H2-A and H2-B visas are both temporary worker programs, the H2-A program is considerably larger. Consequently, H2-A workers have more resources at their disposal: more specialized legal assistance programs, higher wages, and simply better strength-in-numbers. It is widely considered the better visa.

“They have an opportunity to earn more,” explains Coburn. “Often H2-A workers in communities in Mexico are considered privileged; they come back with more money over the average season.”

According to Coburn, in practice the distinction between the two categories translates to significant disadvantages for women, because H2-A visas rarely go to women (only about three to seven percent). Instead women are slated into non-agricultural H2-B jobs, which typically amount to stereotypical “women’s work,” like Algara’s work in the chocolate factory.

Even when men and women work in the same workplace—as is the case in the crab industry—men are given the chance to earn overtime pay for their roles lifting and cooking crab. Silvia, an H2-B worker who did not give her last name, told CDM that men frequently were given more hours of work that the women who worked on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Men are also more often paid by the hour. Women, in contrast, are typically paid a piece rate: usually by the pound of crabmeat picked.

Even when men and women work in the same workplace—as is the case in the crab industry—men are given the chance to earn overtime pay for their roles lifting and cooking crab.
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“We’ve even been told that while these men are working longer hours, women are expected to spend their off-time cleaning the men’s housing, or do other unpaid domestic work that’s considered women’s work,” says Coburn.

Algara started working at the Louisiana chocolate factory in 2003, when a recruiter came to her town. A young mother at the time, she hoped to spend a few months each year working hard in the U.S. for an hourly wage far higher than what she could make in Mexico. That seasonal income would help sustain her throughout the rest of the year.

However, recruiters made it abundantly clear that she would only be considered for certain jobs. Recruitment ads on Facebook and similar networks specify that they are looking for “men ages 18 to 39”. One goes so far as to specify that women applicants must include a (presumably negative) pregnancy test with their visa application materials (also pictured).

In Algara’s case, the lack of options led to a loss of economic opportunity. “The truth is that I wanted to do something else,” she says. “In the factory we couldn’t work more than 40 hours per week, so we had practically three days of doing absolutely nothing.” And while the 40-hour workweek is something American unions fought hard for precisely in order to protect workers from exploitation, it limits migrant workers, who cannot pick up a second job if they want to earn more. Daria, who worked packing vegetables on an H2-B visa and also preferred not to use her last name, explained to CDM that she and her female colleagues only worked three to five hours per week, and earned 10 percent less per hour than she had been promised during recruitment.

Algara also felt that her company took advantage of its monopoly power over her cohort of women workers, barely giving the migrants enough work for the whole process to be worth it. However, with few other options, she returned to the U.S. yearly until she was blacklisted by the factory.

Algara rallied 70 of her colleagues to stop work and demand fair labor standards for reasons of gender discrimination (the men earned more for their roles carrying and stacking boxes than the women did packing chocolates on assembly lines), and lack of respect toward workers. These concerns represent just a few of the buffet of problems workers have voiced, which include visa fraud, misrepresentation of contract, failure to provide workers with copies of their contract, and charging workers fees for recruitment.

While these practices are prohibited under U.S. labor law and the North American Agreement on Labor Cooperation (NAALC), the Department of Labor and other relevant bodies simply do not have the resources to investigate all the claims that are made about the H2 program. Several workers, with help from CDM, filed a petition on gender-based discrimination with the NAALC in 2016. They have yet to receive an official response from the U.S. government about that petition (MEX 2016-1) or its supplement under the NAALC. have yet to hear back about its consequences.

(Shortly after filing said petition, CDM got a call from the U.S. government—who ostensibly did not know CDM had helped the petitioners—requesting information on the subject: “we need to reply to this petition, and you’re some of the only people we know working on this stuff.”)

Several workers, with help from CDM, filed a petition on gender-based discrimination with the NAALC in 2016. They have yet to receive an official response from the U.S. government.
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Migrants like Algara are lobbying to get more explicit protections included in the new USMCA agreement. They celebrated a minor victory this August when the U.S. Trade Representative announced that migrant workers would “ensure that migrant workers are protected under labor laws” in the NAFTA renegotiation, though it is unclear what form that protection will take now that USMCA has been announced.

For now, though, women continue to see the worst of a system that allows for rampant abuse of workers of any gender. They frequently describe their fear of retaliation for speaking out (and with good reason, considering Algara’s experience). And for many, the personal and economic stakes are simply too high to do so, even in the face of wage and hour violations, health and safety problems, discrimination, and even gender-based violence.

So, many women simply grin and bear it—the stakes of losing an opportunity like an H2 visa reach beyond themselves to their families and entire communities. And as for why the companies hosting them get away with the practices that would push workers with more options away? It all comes back to the law of supply and demand, says Coburn.  

“If you come with a visa, you have different rights that other people,” she says. “You are constantly reminded that there are thousands of other workers behind you, waiting for your place, just in case you lose or leave your job.”

*Source’s name has been changed to accommodate her fear of further retaliation, should she decide to apply for an H2-B visa again.

“This is just between us, right?” one of my students asked, her voice trailing off as she adjusted her navy blue backpack and got up to leave.

I reassured her that this was a confidential, safe space to share any feelings, experiences, or questions that she may have. “Ok” she replied, looking relieved, her shoulders relaxing, “see you next week.”

As a mental health clinician practicing in a large school setting, students talk to me about many issues, including their gender identity, gender dysphoria (defined by the American Psychiatric Association as a conflict between a person’s physical or assigned gender and the gender with which he/she/they identify), and sexual orientation. And they talk to me because they trust that I will keep what they share confidential.

There are certain legal exceptions to student/provider confidentiality. If school clinicians suspect a student is being abused or neglected, or if a student expresses suicidal ideation, we must follow a clear intervention plan to protect the student.

However, with the overwhelming majority of issues and experiences that students come to talk about, it is the privacy of the space that prompts them to come and seek support in the first place. It is the understanding that they can speak freely and those words do not go beyond the walls of this office.

But if Republicans in many states get their way, this guarantee of confidentiality will be destroyed.

Ohio Republican Representatives Tom Brinkman and Paul Zeltwanger recently introduced legislation, House Bill 658, which, if passed, would require school therapists and teachers to “out” transgender students to their parents.

HB 658 states, “If a government agent or entity has knowledge that a child under its care or supervision has exhibited symptoms of gender dysphoria or otherwise demonstrates a desire to be treated in a manner opposite of the child’s biological sex, the government agent or entity with knowledge of that circumstance shall immediately notify, in writing, each of the child’s parents and the child’s guardian or custodian.” 

The law would also punish therapists with felony charges if they do not comply with outing children.

HB 658 perpetuates the dangerous belief that if we forbid children from receiving therapy, if we scare them with the threat of being outed by a trusted therapist and we impede their ability to gain any validation and gender-affirming support, then their gender identification isn’t real. Then all of this will just go away.

Republicans claim the reason for this proposed bill is a supposed concern for “parents rights.” The belief is that parents should have to consent to any form of treatment, including just speaking to a school therapist, regarding a child’s gender identity or gender dysphoria. 

Yet despite the pretext for this law, the fact remains that parents rights are not being impeded; their rights are still overwhelmingly protected by state law.

State law already requires that parents give consent for a transgender child to begin hormone blockers, take testosterone or estrogen, or have gender reassignment surgery. But now Ohio is trying to infringe on whether or not a student can even talk to a school therapist or teacher about their gender identity, effectively turning school providers into gender informants.

And Ohio isn’t the only state trying to violate transgender student rights. There has been a startling increase in legislation targeting transgender children. In the last three years 44 anti-transgender pieces of legislation have been introduced in various states, with 23 of those targeting transgender children in schools and in playing school sports. 

Ohio is trying to infringe on whether or not a student can even talk to a school therapist or teacher about their gender identity, effectively turning school providers into gender informants.
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These types of legislation are particularly dangerous given that transgender students are already at an increased risk for anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, and becoming homeless due to parents kicking them out (after discovering their gender identity). 

A study published in the Journal of Adolescent Health, led by Sari Reisner and Mathew Mimiaga, research scientists at the Fenway Institute and Harvard University, found that transgender youth are at a higher risk for depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and self harm than non-transgender adolescents, and that the need for gender-affirming mental health treatment and other support services is essential to their well-being. 

Currently, of the 1.6 million adolescents and young adults who are homeless in America,  40% of them identify as LGBTQ, according to research done at the Williams Institute at UCLA Law. 

In addition, 46% of homeless LGBTQ youth left the home because of their family’s refusal to accept their sexual orientation or gender identity; 43% were kicked out by parents, and 32% reported enduring sexual, emotional, or physical abuse in their family home. 

How many more will be abused or become homeless after they are forcibly outed by their schools?

Jenn Burleton, executive director of the TransActive Gender Center, reports that “Many transgender kids living with unsupportive parents may be able to hold on, emotionally, because of support through school counselors or Gay-Straight Alliances. But in one fell swoop, this bill would eliminate any support system at their schools…their goal is Draconian.”

How many more will be abused or become homeless after they are forcibly outed by their schools?
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In many ways HB 658 creates a state-sanctioned witch hunt. Where does it end? The proposed law says that any student who “exhibited symptoms of gender dysphoria or otherwise demonstrates a desire to be treated in a manner opposite of the child’s biological sex” must be reported to their parents. 

Are schools now supposed to be spies for any possible non-conforming gender expression? 

“Who is the judge of which gender is allowed to do what? If Jane signs up for shop class, will her parents receive a government letter? If Jordan doesn’t want to play football, do his parents get a letter? What if Alex wants to attend a meeting of the student LGBTQ group–does the school email that to Alex’s parents? Just what stereotypes are they expected to enforce?” states Ohio’s Equality Now in response to this bill.

In addition, forcing clinicians to report non-conforming gender expression or gender dysphoria to parents, even though many of them may react violently, would only cause students further harm and violates our duty to protect children.  

Therapists cannot ethically report a child’s gender expression or dysphoria if it is told to us in confidence, and even more so if we know that child will then be at an increased risk for abuse or being thrown out of their house. 

The repercussions of the proposed Ohio law (and many other pieces of anti-transgender legislation in other states) would be catastrophic for all transgender students—and those who are the most vulnerable will no longer seek out support if they now have to fear being “outed,” which then elevates their risk for depression and self-harm. 

The National Association Of Social Workers (NASW) has condemned HB 658 stating, “We are outraged by the legislation that is so clearly in violation of everything the profession of social work stands for.” The American Counseling Association (ACA) also weighed in on HB 658, stating the bill “negates client rights to confidentiality and attacks the very basis of a key mandate for counselors: to provide counseling to those who need it and have nowhere else to turn.” The risk to students is especially pertinent in Ohio, where abuse of transgender students has already been well documented. 

A recent study found that 64%of LGBTQ youth in Ohio have heard disparaging comments about being LGBTQ from family members and only 23% of LGBTQ youth in Ohio have come out to close family members about their sexual orientation. The study also found that 12% of LGBTQ youth in Ohio were sexually assaulted/raped due to their presumed or actual LGBTQ identity, 69%of LGBTQ youth in Ohio are harassed in school, and an alarming 70% of LGBTQ youth in Ohio have received unwanted sexual commentary and inappropriate and lewd jokes in the past year.

While the legal challenges to this law, if it passes, are inevitable, this type of anti-transgender legislation that is exploding around the country, plays into the larger cultural battle of denying transgender students their basic right to exist, to seek support, and to have their own autonomy.

Students will no longer have the ability to come out when they are ready, they will be forced out. And even those who have more support and aren’t at risk for abuse at home will still be forced to come out on someone else’s terms.

Corey Vickman, a 15-year-old transgender student in New York City, shared that “While I have a supportive family and school, coming out can still be terrifying for many transgender students. I can only imagine how devastating it would be to have that option taken away from you, especially by someone you have confided in.”

Even those who have more support and aren’t at risk for abuse at home, will still be forced to come out on someone else’s terms.
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You can’t scare a child into not being transgender or non-binary. No amount of threats, rules, or regulations will keep someone from experiencing dysphoria. School clinicians are there to support students, and requiring them to “out” children, to put students at an increased risk for harm and to betray their trust, violates the core principles of what we do.

And we will do everything we can to stop this dangerous legislation. 

**Names have been changed to protect the identity of minor children**

By Ariel Henley

When I was a child, I wanted to be two things when I grew up: an anesthesiologist and a mother. My ambition to pursue a career in the medical field faded, but my desire to be a mother did not. I imagined myself picking out baby clothes, admiring my baby’s little fingers and toes, packing lunches, walking them to school, and always attending every soccer game and dance recital. I imagined a life that was normal. But my life was anything but normal, and I knew there was a chance that my child’s life wouldn’t be either. I was born with Crouzon syndrome, a rare craniofacial disorder that causes facial disfigurements and has required too many surgeries to count. And any child I conceive will have a 50% chance of inheriting my disease.

Crouzon syndrome, which occurs in roughly one out of every 60,000 births, causes the bones in the head to fuse prematurely, before a child is finished growing. Because the bones of the skull and the face fuse early, they do not develop normally; the mid-face is underdeveloped and the eye sockets do not form correctly. Treating the visible results of this condition requires numerous surgeries to expand the skull and the mid-face, and repair facial abnormalities.

I had my first surgery to expand my skull when I was eight months old. Doctors cut my scalp from ear to ear and moved the bones in my head to where they needed to be. A few years later, they did it again. After I healed, surgeons would go back and advance my mid-face: breaking the bones in my face, shifting them forward. These procedures were performed periodically as I grew. After my skull and face were expanded, I would have additional surgeries to correct my appearance. I had bone from my hip implanted in my cheeks to give me cheekbones. The shape of my nose was corrected and my eyes were straightened — as much as they could be, anyway. The surgeries continued until I reached my early twenties.

When my boyfriend and I talk about the future, about marriage and kids, I tell him we could always adopt. It’s expensive, and deep down I truly want to make a child with the man I adore, but I know my condition complicates things. One night over dinner I told him that when the time came, we could find an egg donor, because I would want a child that resembles him. He put his fork down and looked at me in a way I had never seen before. “I just love you so much,” he told me. “I can’t imagine having a child that didn’t have your personality.”

He knows a child with my personality might also have my disease and the struggles it’s caused me, and still he’s open to it. I want it too, even though I know firsthand how difficult this disease can be. Despite the difficulties of facial disfigurement, my life has been worth living and my future child’s will be, too.

I recently stumbled on a Reddit thread about a picture of an infant with Crouzon syndrome. The girl in the image was lying on her back, wearing a floral dress that hugged her small body. I imagined her mother picking out her outfit that morning. The girl’s eyes protruded from her head in a way that is characteristic of the disease; I recognized it, because there was a time when my eyes looked like that too. There were over 700 comments on the image.

“This may sound harsh but put her out of her fucking misery,” the first comment read. “We should be euthanizing children born with these kinds of horrendous defects, and cutting them from the gene pool,” said another. “It’s easily treatable,” someone else responded, “with fire.” I scrolled through the Reddit feed, looking for someone to say something, anything to contradict this stream of hatred.

It was like viewing a diary of everyone’s secret thoughts about individuals with this disease — about people like me. Each comment was seemingly crueler than the last. “There’s a name for this? That means someone had to study this long enough to decide it needed a name. How do you look at that for more than half a second?” Other users wrote things like, “What ‘doctor’ allowed that to be born?” and “This is why Eugenics isn’t a bad idea.” To make matters worse, the post was tagged, “NSFW — Not Safe for Work” as though an image of a child with this condition was so horrific it should only be viewed with caution.

As I read through the almost seven hundred comments, I could not understand how casual the discourse and the cruelty seemed. There was talk of eugenics and sterilization, as if people with this condition were not human. As if people with this condition did not deserve to live.

I already knew what people thought about my appearance — I could tell by the way people stared and by the way children always seemed to point and whisper whenever I walked by. But by talking about “allowing” a child with Crouzons to be born, these hateful strangers were challenging not only my looks and my worth, but my right to make decisions about my body and my family.

People with Crouzon Syndrome have a 50% chance of passing on the disease to their children. Even if a child didn’t inherit the disease, they would still be a carrier. Reading the thread made me realize that many people would find my desire to have a child selfish, even cruel. And worse, it reminded me that if I do have a child with Crouzon, they’ll be born into a world that says spiteful, disgusting things behind their back, or to their face. Still, I believe the only thing that needs to be eliminated from our society is the repulsive sense of entitlement bullies feel when they’re sitting anonymously behind a computer screen.

As a person born with Crouzon syndrome, it has taken me years to value the person I am — not because I didn’t like myself, but because the world around me told me I shouldn’t like myself. Though it took dozens of reconstructive surgeries, both for my appearance and to keep me alive, it was the years of subhuman treatment every time I left my house that made bearing the weight of the condition a challenge. Often, in an effort to comfort me, my family and friends would deny the existence of these prejudices. “Those kids are just staring, because they’re admiring how beautiful you are,” they would tell me. But I knew better.

Growing up, I compartmentalized my experiences. There were two versions of me: my hospital self and my healthy self. During surgeries and recovery periods, I gave myself permission to really be in those experiences, but as soon as they were over, I did my best to pretend they never happened. Once I recovered, I would go back to school and to my friends, play sports, join school club — just generally try to do the same things as other people my age. I had the idea that if I pretended to be the same as everyone else, soon enough people would start to believe it. And most of the time, they did. It got easier as I got older. The more surgery I had, the less noticeable my physical differences became.

Within my family, my condition and the fact that I had surgery was just accepted as normal. From the beginning, the doctors told my parents: Treat her like she’s sick, and she’ll act sick. I don’t know if this is true for everyone, but it worked for me; when I wasn’t actively recovering from surgery, I never felt like a sick person. In fact, I think this mentality forced me to grow up with a sense of strength. Yes, I had to face more physically challenging experiences than most people my age, but I didn’t feel diminished by them — I felt stronger for surviving them. I did what I had to do: I had surgery, I recovered, and then I went on with my life.

But not everyone subscribes to that belief. For a lot of the world, people like me are sick all the time. People with Crouzon syndrome and other conditions that result in disfigurements often have to deal with discrimination in every area of their lives. I am judged by my appearance when I apply for jobs. I am judged when I go to dinner with my boyfriend. I am judged every time I walk down the street. Still, there has never been a time when I’ve regretted my life or wished my mother had an abortion. Sure, there were years that were easier than others, procedures that were easier than others, but I’m surrounded by family and friends who value me exactly as I am, and that has made all the difference.

Growing up with Crouzon Syndrome has shaped everything about me. It has made me more compassionate, more aware of the people around me, more able to practice and appreciate kindness. It has taught me to disregard superficial standards, and instead value people — all people. I would not be who I am today without my experiences, and given the option to live a life without Crouzon Syndrome, I wouldn’t do it. Having this condition has allowed me to rely on my personality to make friends and form relationships — and to surround myself with people who value that personality. I wouldn’t want to spend time with the kind of people who can only care about someone with perfectly symmetrical eyes.

When I don’t think about the surgeries I went through as a kid, I tend to forget that I have Crouzon Syndrome at all. I have a job, friends, a great family, and a wonderful boyfriend. I love my life — my, for the most part, completely ordinary life. I’ve had hardship — we’ve all had hardships. But just because one person’s trials in life do not match your own, does not mean that they are not worthy of life.

Maybe one day I’ll change my mind. Perhaps by the time I’m ready to start a family, I’ll decide that having biological children is not the path that was meant for me, but that is my prerogative. My desire to one day bring a child into the world isn’t the problem. Society’s desire to judge me for it is. But there’s one thing I can promise my future child, whether they’re biological or not: a supportive, understanding, unconditionally loving mother. And with that, we should both be able to make it through, no matter what society throws at us.