Trans inclusion in the biology classroom
Trans pride flag. Stock image via Unsplash.
One of my favorite parts of working at a university is getting to teach. I find biology utterly fascinating and magical, and getting to impart that to students is an incredible joy. Although I don’t currently teach in my position as a postdoc, I do spend a lot of time thinking about how to be a better educator in my field, and how best to explain the often confusing concepts of genetics and evolution to students.
It’s also important to me that we recognize how educators can often perpetuate misunderstandings of science that can be immensely harmful to marginalized communities. In particular, the past couple of years have seen a huge uptick in transphobia, and wherever it rears it head- from online trolls to state legislatures- it’s often couched as “just basic biology”. Often as not, though, the “basic biology” that is claimed to be the impetus behind the bigotry is actually based on misunderstandings of genetics and developmental biology. Honestly, anyone who claims “basic” biology is on their side probably shouldn’t be trusted anyways- in all my years in science, I have yet to encounter any indication that biology is in any way basic- but the fact these arguments are as compelling as they are has some of its roots in how biology, especially genetics, is taught at the high school and undergraduate levels.
As awareness of this in the more social justice-minded corners of my discipline has grown, so has the question of how we can cover the topics that most feed this rhetoric in a way that accurately conveys the complexities of biology without reinforcing harmful misunderstandings. How can we talk about topics such as the genetics of sex determination, the developmental pathways associated with reproductive phenotypes, and sex-linked inheritance in ways that students can still grasp, but don’t lead to feelings of exclusion for trans, nonbinary, intersex, and gender nonconforming students, who already have an increased likelihood of leaving STEM?
In my experience, I’ve found this isn’t actually as insurmountable a challenge as it seems. There are some relatively simple ways we can adjust our language around these topics that not only foster a more inclusive learning environment, but also can, in their increased specificity and greater explanation, increase student understanding of the biological processes in question.
1: Be clear that sex and gender are not the same.
If I had a nickel for every time I heard a well-meaning professor or TA refer to the gender of a turtle or whatever, I could probably fund my coffee habit. Gender is the internal sense of self in relationship to societal categories, especially those linked to reproductive anatomy and its associated traits. Do other organisms have gender? Maybe- but as it’s an internal experience that exists within a social framework, the way other animals would conceive of gender is so fundamentally removed from our own experiences as to be basically inaccessible to us. Fascinating fodder for late-night arguments with animal behavior researchers over a beer, for sure, but completely unrelated to trying to explain the genetics of X-linked traits to freshmen. What we largely actually mean is sex, the categorization of observable phenotypic differences in organisms.
Where does this conflation come from? It seems to originate from our general societal understanding in Christian and European/European colonial societies for the past several centuries that these two things always correspond. Some people, operating under basically good faith, seem to have picked up that we talk increasingly about gender instead of sex, and so assume that they need to switch all usages accordingly. Another thread in my own experience is a likely particularly American evangelical thing- both growing up Lutheran Missouri Synod, an evangelical denomination, and teaching in Oklahoma, there’s a strong cultural discomfort with all things related to sexual activity, including the word sex itself, that leads to the vocabulary switch.
The fix here is, as will quickly emerge as a theme throughout this piece, to be very explicit in your definitions and word usage. If you are talking about the genitalia of rodents, don’t refer to the marmot’s gender. Clarity is a key part of teaching, and here is a prime example.
A diagram of multiple sex-determination systems, demonstrating the complexity of “sex” across different organisms. Sources: https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pbio.1001899.
2: Sex is not a binary
As awareness around trans issues has grown, more people are beginning to understand that sex and gender aren’t interchangeable. This is great! The problem is that the basic 101 version of this often goes like “they aren’t the same because gender is a spectrum but sex is binary”, which is… not correct. This oversimplification is additionally an issue in teaching genetics, because it obscures many of the key points we’re trying to make otherwise around how DNA is actually interpreted as phenotype.
Before I elaborate on this, I want to note that this conversation gets into variations in sexual development, which are not inherently related to trans identity, despite the frequent conflation. Furthermore, the way these variations are discussed often serve, intentionally or not, to other intersex people, often feeding into the rhetoric of medicalization that leads to harm like nonconsensual surgery. Since I am not intersex myself, I have provided links below to writing by those who are who can speak directly on this from that perspective, and I highly encourage you to check those out.
So, time to break this down. In many animals* (although far, far from all!), the set of characteristics we call “sex” is mainly coded for on specific chromosomes. In mammals, these are usually the X and Y chromosomes, where most individuals with two X chromosomes produce eggs, and most with an X and a Y produce sperm. But, biology being biology, of course this is not the only way of doing things. In birds, which is my main ballpark, this is swapped. The individuals with two of the same chromosome- in this case, listed as ZZ- typically produce sperm, which the ones with two different chromosomes, called ZW, generally make the eggs. Some insects, on the other hand, stick with the X chromosome, but reproductive traits develop according to whether a given bug has one unpaired X (sperm producing) or a full pair (usually egg laying or otherwise “female”, because insects are weird and have a lot going on). This is before we even get into things like reptiles or fish, which are just all over the map and often are playing by rules that have nothing to do with chromosomes anyways.
Right away, this sheer diversity of ways to control these developmental pathways should clue you in on the fact that there’s actually not anything particularly “male” about a Y chromosome or “female” about not having one, since those categories apply to things that do not have these chromosomes. Instead, these traits are linked to expression of genes, which in some animals are on certain stretches of DNA they may or may not inherit. This is actually a really great example of a topic that many students seem to struggle with- that having a gene is only the first step in the process of developing the phenotype linked with it.
This leads as well into how even within a given system, there is variation. Let’s narrow in on XY systems here, since that’s what we’re usually focusing on in the classroom. Think about what we classify as “male” and “female” traits. These include things like what genitalia an individual has and what gametes they produce, as well as those like hair distribution, mammary tissue, menstruation, and a whole other host of traits linked to the presence, amounts, and metabolism of different hormones in the body. These are not things with simple on/off switches- they’re interlocked, cascading series of developmental pathways, all of which have to happen in particular ways for the genes associated with them to actually be expressed. Again, this is a really important concept for students to grasp!
One other result of this is that the traits we think of as determining sex, while usually clustering into groups we call “male” and “female” are all present as continuums that may or may not present in all individuals, creating overlap between the categories. While we see this most obviously in intersex people, there’s a lot of grey area even in non-intersex, cisgender people. A cis, non-intersex woman may have facial hair, a deep voice, and lack a menstrual cycle. A cis, non-intersex man might develop significant breast tissue and not grow any facial hair at all. Yet somehow, we somehow tend to mostly agree that despite their variation from the “normal” bimodal distribution of these traits, they are who they say they are. Where we decide to draw the the lines between “male” and “female” is for this constellation of traits is culturally determined, not inherently determined by biology.
This is also why the term “biological sex” isn’t a very good one. On its face, it does appear to make some sense. If gender is a societal thing, surely then sex is what we can observe biologically? The problem is that biology, once again, does not give a rooster’s fart about categories, and so all the term does is further attempt to shoehorn a complex set of phenotypes into a couple of boxes it’s just not going to fit in. Worse, it’s increasingly become a weaponized term, used to argue that gender is all in our heads and that we need to instead use “biology” to categorize people. Overall, it’s just not very useful, and it muddies things up when what we’re trying to do as teachers is clarify things.
3: Be precise when discussing chromosomal inheritance
The genetics of sex determination may be the biggest source of misapplied science in the service of transphobia, but it’s not the only one where there’s potential to reinforce a cisgender, heteronormative bias with genetics. The other most common area I’ve seen this in action is when teaching sex-linked traits. Here, it’s a more subtle thing, but once again, simple adjustments in the terminology we use can go a long way in making for a more inclusive classroom.
This usually comes up in the units of Mendelian genetics, with students drawing Punnett squares to predict the probability of certain genotypes and phenotypes in a group of offspring. After the usual scenarios with autosomal traits- here’s one that dominant, here’s one that’s recessive, maybe we’ll talk incomplete dominance for a bit, etc.- a sex-linked trait will be thrown into the mix, usually hemophilia or color-blindness (at least in all the classrooms I’ve been in). The idea we’re trying to teach here is that these traits are on a chromosome linked to sexual phenotype, and so the ratios we expect in offspring will be somewhat different than in autosomal traits. We’re not really concerned with sex per se, merely that these traits end up linked because of the physical arrangement of DNA (another concept that will be built on in later units typically).
Given that our learning goals here aren’t actually about sexual phenotypes, there’s not really any reason to center that in this explanation. I typically refer to these traits as X-linked instead of the more general sex linked. This didn’t come about originally due to trying to be more inclusive— it’s because I work with birds, and so “sex-linked” in my research implies Z-linked traits that have a different inheritance pattern. The first time I absently referred to hemophilia as X-linked in class, a student told me afterwards that it was hugely helpful— because they, like many students, were confused as to whether the trait would be on the X or Y. After that, I started using this terminology across the board, and referring to the parental organisms by their chromosomes (XX and XY or ZZ and ZW) instead of as male/female or, even more heteronormatively, mother/father.
Again, shockingly it turns out that you can be inclusive and also increase student learning. Amazing.
A rainbow of books. Stock image via Unsplash.
4: Cite! Trans! And! Intersex! People!
As with many marginalized groups, so much of what is out there is written about us, but not by us. This may not seem like a huge deal, but it reinforces the otherness of marginalized groups— that we can never be the ones asking questions and doing research, but merely take part in science as passive subjects. Furthermore, even the best-intentioned research by those outside of a marginalized group often misrepresents our experiences and knowledge, and can perpetuate potentially harmful stereotypes and misinformation.
Obviously, there’s no singular trans or intersex experience, and none of us can speak for a whole identity. But purposefully including these perspectives serves an important role in broadening student understanding and exposing them to new ways of thinking and asking questions.
5: Biology is just too weird for easy simplification
Often, I encounter this idea that if one has been through an undergraduate biology course, they have in some way mastered All Of Biology. But intro courses are just that- introductions to huge topics. They’re designed to get you up to speed on a lot of topics in a way that can then be built on in future courses. By this very nature, they are incredibly simplified. Much as you have to make sure students know algebra before you start them on calculus, you have to start with things like simple Mendelian traits and completely dominant traits before you can dive into the deeper waters where most of us geneticists spend our days.
But the fact that we’re necessarily simplifying things for this pedagogical purpose isn’t usually clearly communicated to students. Sure, if they continue on to themselves become geneticists they will, but that’s an incredibly tiny fraction of the students we’re going to teach. Many may not even take another biology class ever again. We’re failing in our responsibilities as teachers if we we aren’t clear about how much is being simplified. By the time we’re talking about university courses, we should be clear that “science” is not a set of facts, but a framework for inquiry. We’re doing a disservice to our students if we don’t emphasize this.
6: Biology isn’t destiny
“But you can’t deny biological facts!” Over and over, I see this refrain from the angry corners of the internet. It’s incredibly frustrating, because if there’s one thing humanity is good at, it’s deciding that the biological status quo sucks and that we can do better. Even if we accept the proposition that a strict sexual binary is biological fact— which, again, the evidence is increasingly against— what does that have to do with how we live our lives? The naturalistic fallacy (that because something is, it necessarily ought to be) may be tempting, but is still, well, a fallacy. By this reasoning, a person with diabetes shouldn’t take insulin, smallpox should still be raging instead of eradicated by vaccines, and genetic disorders should be left untreated. While some people do take it that far (g-d help us), there’s so many people who would agree that these are absolutely egregious outcomes still cling to this faulty reasoning for transphobia.
Over and over again throughout scientific history, though, we’ve let ourselves be pulled into this fallacy— and the fruits it bears are some of the darkest stains on the history of our discipline. The impulse of “well, biology says this is your place in the world, deal with it” has been used to keep women out of large swathes up public life, to prop up the enslavement of other human beings, to justify the sterilization of minority groups and disabled people, and to resist efforts to try to create a more just and equitable world. I refuse to let those with ill-intentions use my field to argue against the rights of others.
My desk with a herpetology-themed trans pride flag, just so everyone is clear on where I stand. Flag by the talented Alex Holt, available here.
I’ll admit, this topic is personal for me. I am proudly nonbinary, as well as an evolutionary biologist with a deep sense of wonder for the complexities of biology. It is particularly hurtful to me when I see misunderstandings and oversimplifications of biology invoked to prop up bias and discrimination against myself and others. Initially, I tried mainly using my presence in the classroom to challenge students’ preconceived notions of the relationship between biology, gender, and sex. But I’m just one person, and with trans representation in STEM still extremely low, it can’t all be on the few of us there are to do this work. We need cis allies to step up, in the classroom and out, to do this hard work of repairing the world.
* I’m only talking about animals here because as weird and variable as the genetics of reproductive development are in animals, they at least very broadly speaking go about reproduction in a way that involves two individuals with different gametes (although even that doesn’t account for things like worms or slugs). Once you venture out to things like fungi and plants, even this basically breaks down. And prokaryotes? Forget it.
Further reading:
General reading and resources- blog posts, profiles, and
500 Queer Scientists. Includes profiles of LGBTQIA+ scientists, including trans, nonbinary, GNC, and intersex folks, talking about their experiences in STEM.
Emery D. Haley. “The Invisible Minority in STEM”. Inside Higher Ed. 15 June 2020.
Intersex resources
Claudia Astorino- Intersex Social Justice. Includes a bunch of excellent articles and videos from
Teaching guides- because you don’t need to reinvent the wheel on your own!
Scientific literature
Ainsworth, Claire. 2015 “Sex redefined”, Nature, 518, p. 288-291.
Freeman, Jon. 2018. “LGBTQ scientists are still left out.” Nature, 559, p. 27-28.
Richardson, Sarah S. 2021. “Sex contextualism.” Philosophy, Theory, and Practice in Biology, 13.