Through the Static

By Gray Trammel

If someone had handed me this piece in 2018, I wouldn’t have understood it, and I would have wondered why a legal name printed in a graduation program mattered so much, or dismissed it as an overreaction. If you’re asking yourself the same question, I understand because I once would have asked it too. This story is about giving you the chance to understand my experience. Hours after crossing the stage at North Seattle College and earning my associate degree, I sat down on my couch at home and opened the commencement program for the first time. Like many graduates, I wanted to find my name among the list of my classmates. Instead, on the program I found the name I had left behind years ago— my deadname.

Graduation represented years of work, returning to school after serving in the U.S. Army and the beginning of my next chapter at the University of Washington (UW). It was also the first time my family had traveled from Texas to Washington since I moved here, making the day even more meaningful.

If someone had also told me that I’d be graduating from a community college in Seattle, studying journalism at the UW, being accepted into a highly sought-after psychology teaching assistant position, and working as a reporter for an antifascist news publication, I wouldn’t have believed them. My worldview was very different from the one I hold today. College introduced me to people and perspectives that challenged my assumptions and broadened how I understand the world. I didn’t become who I am because of college; I arrived as myself. But this was the first time I graduated as the person I had already fought to become.

When I arrived at the graduation ceremony on June 18, I picked up a commencement program but chose to look at it later. My attention was on how nervous I was to walk across the stage. During the ceremony, the chancellor spoke proudly about North Seattle College’s commitment to diversity, equity and inclusion, describing those values as central to the institution.

After looking at the program and seeing my deadname in print, I was immediately brought back to the chancellor’s remarks about diversity, equity and inclusion. The contrast was impossible for me to overlook. The ceremony celebrated recognizing students and their achievements, but the official keepsake from that day didn’t recognize me as the person who had earned my degree.

For many people, this might sound like a minor administrative mistake. For me, it wasn’t. The commencement program was something I planned to keep for the rest of my life. As a Transgender man, Gray is the name my professors know, the name my parents chose for me when I transitioned, the one attached to my published journalism and the one that reflects the person who earned that degree. Seeing a different name in the official record of my graduation changed the way I viewed the college and remembered the ceremony.

My experience may not have been unique. If it happened to me, it could have happened to other graduates as well, whether through the use of a legal name instead of a chosen name, an incorrect pronunciation or another mistake altogether. Commencement is one of the few moments dedicated entirely to recognizing students and the work they have put into earning a degree. Those details matter because recognition matters.

On June 19, I reached out to North Seattle College’s commencement team for comment regarding the use of my deadname in the printed commencement program. I had not received a response by the time of publication.

Nothing about those mistakes change what I accomplished. I earned my associate degree and took another step toward becoming a journalist. I’m proud of the education I received and grateful for the opportunities it gave me. The commencement program may not have reflected the person who walked across the stage, but it will not change who earned the degree.

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