I just had a lady at the conference I’m at stop me in the hallway and ask if I used to play basketball. Why? Because of my height. Apparently, I’m “basketball height.” When she approached me with this question, I immediately worried that she wasn’t just asking whether I played basketball. I worried that she was trying to suss out whether I’m trans. After all, she was commenting on something that makes me a rather extreme outlier when compared to other women.

Tall women in their natural habitat. Photo by: Michael Barera (CC BY-SA 4.0)

I told her I only played basketball for a year, and that I wasn’t very good at it. She said that was unfortunate, and asked me how tall I am. I told her my height — 6'2" — and she proceeded to tell me all about her six foot tall daughter who plays high school basketball. Apparently, her daughter is really hoping she will hit 6'2" someday. So, when the lady saw a tall woman in the hallway at the conference she was at, she just had to talk to her. Women over six feet tall are rare, so when the opportunity to talk to one presents itself, you’ve gotta seize it, apparently.

We ended up having a nice conversation about high school sports, the sports I was involved in when I was a kid, and the difficulties involved in being such a tall woman. The entire time, I was waiting for her to realize I’m trans. She never did, and I never told her.

To her, I am just a tall woman — just like her daughter will be someday.

I have managed to get to a place where I believe people almost always perceive me as a woman. As a result, I have relatively little concern for how others perceive me — at least outside of bathrooms, and situations where I might have to raise my voice. However, when people make it clear that they perceive me not just as a woman, but as a cisgender woman, I am always thrown for a loop. It’s different somehow.

Because she assumed I was a cisgender woman, the lady saw me as having been a tall girl in high school. I am amenable to this idea. I believe, in retrospect, that I was a tall girl in high school. I didn’t believe it at the time — though I desperately wanted it to be true — but I believe it now. So when someone else makes the assumption that I have always been a girl/woman, I don’t correct them. I think they’re right.

Now, the lady was wrong about me being cisgender. However, that assumption — particularly in our current societal context — led her to believe certain things about me and my past that are in many ways far more accurate than the beliefs of those who knew me before transition, and those of the majority of people who are aware that I’m trans. Pointing this out, and having a conversation with a stranger in the middle of a crowded hall about the fact that I’m trans was not something I was all that interested in doing — you never know who will hear you and get weird/violent.

So I decided, as I often do in these situations, that I would not disclose the fact I’m trans. I don’t go out of my way to hide the fact I’m trans, but I also feel no need to disclose the fact I’m trans — or gay, for that matter — to every stranger I talk to. Unless it comes up in conversation, of course.

Situations like these illuminate the complexity of the concept of “disclosure.”

The issue of whether trans folks — especially trans women — ought to disclose their trans status has been beaten to death. This is particularly true when related to disclosing to potential partners. It’s even discussed at length in the trans community.

However, because of the importance of this conversation, this bears repeating:

Trans folks, regardless of their gender, are under no obligation to disclose their trans status in any circumstance. Whether someone discloses their trans status, and at what point they do so, is their decision.

Understanding this fact requires that we look at the nature of “truth” in these contexts, as well as what it means for a trans person to disclose, and how these things relate to personal obligation.

The idea behind disclosure is that it reveals “the truth.”

Simple enough, right? It seems so simple that a lot of people think that to disclose, all you have to do is “tell the truth.” Boom. Done. No problem. As a result, they have a hard time when others choose not to “tell the truth” as they see it. After all, isn’t that deception? Isn’t it at least a lie of omission?

However, it’s not so simple. To start with, what does “the truth” look like in this context? If, as I said in my own case, the assumptions that come with the belief that someone is cisgender are in many ways more accurate than those that come from the belief that they are trans, which “truth” should be preserved? The truth of who that person is, their self-perception, and their lived experience, or the truth of others’ perceptions of them, and the false assumptions and bigotry that often come with those perceptions?

“The truth,” in this case, requires some amount of interpretation. Who better to interpret it than the individual closest to it? Demanding that trans folks interpret their lives and identities in a specific way that agrees with your own interpretation is a form of ideological violence — it is an attack on the validity and truth of trans lives and identities.

All this is beside the fact that a trans person disclosing the fact that they are trans can be seriously dangerous, and have negative impacts on their life.

I have been a part of discussions in which trans folks have advocated that others disclose to potential or current intimate partners in public places, where there are multiple witnesses, good lighting, and an easy escape route if things turn violent. You can never be too careful.

I have been part of discussions in which it was recommended that if you are going to disclose to someone that you should make sure to record it — even if you expect it to go well. Because then, if that individual gets violent later, you have a record that can disprove any “trans panic” defense.

I have been part of discussions in which it was debated whether people ought to disclose to potential or current employers. After all, as bad as it is to be “closeted” at work, it’s also bad to be unemployed.

I have been part of discussions in which it was recommended, if you’re a homeless trans woman and you’re trying to get into a shelter, that you not disclose the fact that you’re a trans if at all possible. But if you’re a trans man, you should absolutely disclose the fact that you’re trans — maybe even take off your binder if you have one. “The truth,” can help or hurt you, and disclosing “the truth” as others might see it isn’t worth spending another night on the street.

It should be obvious, then that given the realities of disclosure, and the negative impacts it can have, trying to force trans folks to disclose their trans status means privileging the bigotry and prejudice of society over the health, safety, and overall well-being of trans folks.

So what’s that leave us with regarding personal obligation to disclose?

It simply does not exist. One cannot ethically endorse the idea that trans folks must disclose their trans status.

Claiming that there is some sort of obligation on trans folks to disclose requires that we endorse a form of ideological violence in which the truth of outside observers and society must supersede the truth of a trans folks’ lives and identities. It also requires the belief that said societal truth — and the bigotry and prejudice that often accompany it — is worth more than the health, safety, and overall well-being of trans folks.

Now, my own personal calculus regarding disclosure — which is made possible by a whole pile of privilege — values the visibility that comes with disclosure over the possibility that others will have incorrect assumptions about me, or that they might react negatively. At least, that is, in certain contexts — in the hallway at a conference just isn’t one of them.

In fact, the bar for me to disclose is rather low. I’m solidly out on the internet, so anyone searching for me will inevitably find my pieces here on medium etc. And, I’ve said before that I wear trans and LGBT pride buttons at work. If I’m asked about those buttons, I’ll explain why I wear them etc. Outside of work, if someone asks whether I’m trans, I’ll say yes and gladly chat about it as long as I feel safe. If trans rights or other LGBT issues are brought up in conversation, I will make it clear that I am both trans and super gay.

But this is my decision. It is not a decision I, or anyone else, can make for another person.

I understand this fact will be hard to swallow for a lot of folks. So, I propose a simple solution — a solution that others have proposed multiple times before. If ever you worry that a stranger, friend, or person you want to have sex with is trans, simply disclose to everyone that you meet that you’re a cissexist bigot. I promise, if you disclose this fact about yourself, trans folks will steer clear and you’ll never be caught accidentally treating trans folks like valid human beings.

Scout’s honor.

Oh, did I not mention that I was in the Boy Scouts as a kid? Huh. Weird. Guess it just wasn’t relevant.