‘I’m setting myself free from shame’: Laverne Cox on her brutal childhood and life as a trans woman in Trump’s America
‘I’m setting myself free from shame’: Laverne Cox on her brutal childhood and life as a trans woman in Trump’s America
I m setting myself free - Laverne Cox, the acclaimed actor, television personality, and author, recently reflected on her journey from a difficult past to her current role as a public advocate for trans rights. Two days prior to our conversation, she had attended the premiere of a new animated version of *Animal Farm*, where she lent her voice to the character Snowball. While the film sparked debate for its lighthearted tone and happy resolution, Cox’s focus remained on a more urgent issue: the erosion of trans rights in the United States. “If we don’t wake up and understand, trans people will be exterminated,” she asserted during the event, highlighting the dangers of political indifference. Her words underscored a broader narrative about the systemic challenges facing trans individuals, particularly under the Trump administration, where policies targeted healthcare access, employment, and gender identity in public spaces.
A Life Shaped by Resilience
Cox’s memoir, *Transcendent*, is a deeply personal account of her early struggles. Growing up in Mobile, Alabama, during the 1970s, she faced relentless prejudice from a young age. As a child, she was subjected to physical bullying for her effeminate traits, while her mother’s verbal abuse left her feeling constantly inadequate. By adolescence, the weight of societal expectations and personal trauma had become unbearable. “I tried to kill myself before I turned 12,” she recalls, describing the visceral pain of puberty as a form of emotional and physical torture. This pain, she explains, was compounded by the subtle exclusions of poverty and the stark realities of living as a Black trans woman in a society that often viewed her as an outsider.
Her twin, M Lamar, shared a similar fate. The siblings were raised by their single mother, Gloria Cox, who embodied the contradictions of a conservative African Methodist Episcopal Zion church member. While Gloria’s resilience shone through, her parenting was marked by harshness and misunderstanding. “My mother didn’t fully grasp who I was,” Cox says, “and that made it hard for me to feel accepted.” At one point, Gloria’s anger over a minor incident—a stone shattered their patio door—led to a dramatic series of events that ended with the twins in a children’s home. Yet, the more insidious struggles were often the hardest to endure. Every display of vulnerability, joy, or artistic passion from Cox was met with criticism, reinforcing a lifelong battle against self-doubt.
Cox attributes much of her mother’s behavior to a broader cultural legacy. She draws on Dr. Joy DeGruy’s concept of “post-traumatic slave syndrome,” a theory that explains how historical trauma from slavery persists through generations. “Black parents often say their children are lazy,” Cox notes, “but that’s not just about work ethic—it’s about a fear of losing them to the system.” This idea resonates with her own experience, as her mother’s actions were shaped by the plantation-era mindset of protecting family bonds at all costs. “My grandfather’s cruelty came from the remnants of that system,” she explains. “He believed in keeping his family together, even if it meant stifling individuality.”
From Survival to Self-Expression
In the 1990s, Cox began transitioning, a process that brought her both liberation and vulnerability. Living as a Black trans woman, she navigated constant street harassment and the stigma of her identity. Yet, she found solace in small acts of self-empowerment, such as dressing in the style she desired. “I started buying clothes from charity shops,” she says, describing what she calls her “Salvation Armani” phase. “It was a way to reclaim my body and express who I was, without needing much money.”
Despite the hardships, Cox’s memoir is not a tale of despair but one of transformation. “This book isn’t about misery,” she emphasizes. “It’s about setting myself free from the shame that lingered in secrecy. I used to believe that if people knew about my transness, I’d be unlovable.” Her mother often warned her against revealing too much, reinforcing the idea that certain truths could threaten her identity. “There are things you should never tell people,” Cox says, reflecting on her mother’s advice. “But I had to break that cycle.”
Cox’s journey is a testament to her strength and determination. While her early life was defined by fear and exclusion, she now uses her platform to challenge those who would marginalize her community. “I didn’t want to be quiet anymore,” she says. “Every moment of struggle was a step toward understanding who I am and why I matter.” Her words carry the weight of personal history, offering a powerful lens through which to view the intersection of race, gender, and social justice in America. The memoir not only captures her resilience but also invites readers to confront the roots of prejudice and the ongoing fight for equality in a world that often seeks to erase those who are different.
As Cox continues to advocate for trans rights, her message remains clear: the battle for visibility and acceptance is far from over. “People are losing healthcare, jobs, and even their lives because of the rhetoric surrounding gender,” she says. “But we’re not just fighting for survival—we’re fighting to be seen as full human beings.” Her story, she hopes, will inspire others to embrace their true selves and resist the forces that seek to shame them. “I’m not just telling my own story,” she adds. “I’m giving voice to every trans person who’s ever felt invisible.”
“If people know this thing about me, I will not be lovable.”
Cox’s work, both on screen and in writing, challenges the narrative that trans individuals are a threat to society. By sharing her childhood trauma and the systemic barriers she overcame, she illuminates the path from shame to self-acceptance. Her memoir is not only a chronicle of personal triumph but also a call to action, urging society to recognize the humanity of all transgender people. In a country where political leaders often frame trans rights as a zero-sum game, Cox’s voice stands as a beacon of hope and defiance.
As she continues to navigate the complexities of identity and advocacy, Cox remains grounded in the lessons of her past. “My mother raised two remarkable children on her own,” she acknowledges. “She was a force of nature, and I respect her for that. But there’s trauma in her choices, and I’m trying to understand it—not to excuse it, but to explain how it shaped my journey.” Her reflections highlight the nuanced interplay between love and limitation, between pride and pain. In the end, Cox’s story is one of transformation, resilience, and the enduring power of self-expression in the face of adversity.