TWIBS: What’s in a Dead Name?
The dead naming of murder victim Brianna Ghey is one particularly egregious example of how hurtful the use of trans people’s previous names can be.
by Alyssa Steinsiek
I try to keep TWIBS lighthearted.
Honest!
Some silly ranting, some hyperbole, maybe an inspiring thought or two to wrap things up.
Unfortunately, today I want to touch on a slightly more sober topic: dead names, and dead naming. If you’re cis, you might not be entirely familiar with the term or its origins. To keep it brief, a dead name is the name a trans person is given at birth, which is typically modified or discarded entirely after they start transitioning.
For trans folks with a particularly gendered given name, being addressed by that name can be hurtful. It brings up some really shitty memories, and makes you feel like no matter what you do, you can’t escape this person you used to be. A person you don’t even know anymore.
Addressing trans youth with the name and pronouns they prefer significantly reduces suicidality. It’s a small act of kindness to talk to and about somebody the way they ask you to.
For some of us, our dead name may be the only name the legal system ever recognizes. Roadblocks like time, energy and money make legal changes of identity difficult, if they’re even possible in your state, and absurdly anachronistic rules surrounding name changes in many jurisdictions make the process painful and frightening.
It isn’t called your “dead name” because the name has died; for many trans people, it’s the name your unsupportive family will call you in death. It’s the name they’ll put on your grave marker, even if you haven’t used it in a decade. It’s the vicious lie they’ll tell everybody so they can pretend you were “normal.”
For Brianna Ghey, a 16-year-old transgender girl who was stabbed to death by two other teens earlier this year, it’s the name the prosecution will announce in court and the media will share with the world after your peers fucking murder you for being trans.
Brianna’s murderers, one of whom she thought was her friend, get to be Girl X and Boy Y when court reporters discuss them. They’re granted anonymity, for their own protection. Brianna, their victim, gets no protection. A name she chose to dissociate from—a name that her killers never even knew—is now public record.
There is no justification for this. They revel in it. They take joy in dehumanizing and torturing us, even after we’re gone.
Thankfully, most journalists are covering the trial with enough decency and kindness to avoid dead naming or misgendering Brianna. Most major outlets make no mention of Brianna’s dead name, even though the justice and prosecution can’t seem to fucking help themselves. A few outlets have shared her dead name, which I won’t be linking to here, but many others have held off.
There are, of course, more mundane ways that your dead name can do harm.
If you’re trans in academics, it can be difficult to carry on with your career after you start transitioning if the brunt of your work was published under the wrong name.
Applying to new jobs can be difficult and dangerous, and it presents an unbearable dilemma: Do I use my everyday name, then out myself to HR if I get the job, and hope that doesn’t blow up in my face? Do I dead name myself to a potential employer during the hiring process, and risk the kind of employment discrimination that more than a quarter of all trans people face?
Just going about your daily life can be harrowing. Going to a bar or buying a six pack at the convenience store can put you at risk of being a victim of a hate crime or refused service. Laws banning trans people from changing their gender markers have recently made this risk even worse.
I’m sorry, I don’t have an easy answer to close out with.
I know that seeing journos treat a murdered trans girl with a modicum of respect is heartening.
I know that seeing significant public backlash to the outlets that can’t even do that makes me feel vindicated. It gives me hope that things can change. That they will change.
If you’re cis and you want to do something, you might consider checking out Esther Ghey’s Mindfulness in Schools Project, founded in Brianna’s memory.
If you’re trans and poor and all of this scares the shit out of you, like it does me, check out Trans Lifeline’s Microgrants program to see if you can get financial help pursuing your own name change.
If you’re reading this and you’re trans, or you know and love somebody who’s trans, just remember that we’re in this together. We can make the world a better, more accepting place for young trans people.
We have to.
Alyssa Steinsiek is a professional writer and video games nerd who hails from Appalachia but lives, laughs, loves in Rapid City.