Journey of Identity: The Experience of a Young Transgender Girl in Texas

June 30, 2022 / Kai Shappley/ by Devan Díaz

Editor's note: In the midst of intense national discussions on transgender rights, the challenge of how to best support, care for, and affirm the identities of young transgender Americans has sparked heated debates. Against the backdrop of new legislation and directives from conservative governments that aim to restrict access to gender-affirming care for minors, Vogue dispatched photographer Ethan James Green and journalist Devan Díaz to Texas to profile a girl who is already in the public spotlight.

The ensuing text, photographs, and video documentary offer a glimpse into her life. Recognizing the uniqueness of each individual’s story, Vogue encourages readers and parents to seek guidance from diverse sources like the Human Rights Campaign, the American Medical Association, PFLAG, Gender Spectrum, the Trevor Project, and more, for support and information.

In a serene neighborhood in Austin, Texas, an 11-year-old girl strolls to the end of her street to check the family’s mailbox. She often stops to stroke a neighborly cat, say hello to locals, or perhaps drop by a nearby lemonade stand. She savors these moments, knowing a packed agenda awaits her at home. Her typical day is filled with homeschooling sessions led by her mother, Zoom meetings with agents, auditions, conversations on Discord, playing video games, and developing a book proposal with a prospective publisher. Breaks are filled with YouTube dives into topics like Greek goddesses and Dolly Parton. Despite her hectic schedule, her mother ensures she shares household chores like taking out the trash and feeding the chickens with her younger brother, Kaleb. One morning, still groggy from sleep, she confides, "I sleep with my mom because I'm scared of what might happen. I’m really tired."

She's not referring to a mere childhood dread of the dark. Kai Shappley and all transgender children in Texas face threats far greater than imaginary monsters. In February 2022, Texas Governor Greg Abbott sent a directive to the Department of Family and Protective Services, instructing the agency to classify medical treatments for transgender adolescents, including puberty blockers and hormones, as child abuse. The directive mandates that all licensed professionals in direct contact with children, such as doctors, nurses, and teachers, must report such treatments or face criminal charges for non-compliance.

Kai started her social transition in pre-K when she was just four years old. Now, as she approaches puberty, the necessity of medical transition is becoming more urgent. Kai’s mother, Kimberly Shappley, who is an ordained minister and was once part of a conservative community in Pearland, Texas, just outside Houston, previously felt it was her divine and civic duty to condemn children like her daughter, as instructed by her faith and her governor. Today, Kimberly has transformed her beliefs and her approach.

Witnessing Kai's experience as one of the first transgender children in the country to face intense public scrutiny transformed Kimberly forever. She recalls 2016 when five-year-old Kai, indistinguishable from any other cisgender girl, suffered embarrassing accidents at school while district leaders debated which bathrooms she should be allowed to use. These personal moments were thrust into the national spotlight, and Kai's distinctive blue eyes and blond hair made it difficult for even her harshest critics to casually dismiss her as merely a boy encroaching on girls' bathrooms. During my visit with the Shappleys on the first scorching 100-degree day in Texas of the year, we sat in the cool comfort of Kimberly's living room drinking sweet tea as she recounted the media firestorm. "When the first article about our family was published," she notes, "it unleashed a flood of death threats in the comments, and our home address was exposed for all to see." The hostility from the web loomed as a real-world threat.

As Kai's story gained traction, appearing in public became risky. Kimberly found herself recognized even during simple trips to the local grocery store in Pearland. "The owners of the apartment we rented moved us to a larger unit without raising the rent," she recalls, highlighting their thoughtful generosity. "They also registered all the utilities under their names to keep our location confidential." This period followed Kimberly's separation and eventual divorce from Kai and Kaleb's father, alongside a costly relocation. Before settling in the Pearland apartment, the Shappleys resided in a shelter while Kimberly pursued a health-science degree at a community college, aiming to become a nurse despite only having a ninth-grade education. "I was required to take placement tests, as they expected I would need remedial classes," she notes.

Kimberly completed her degree in 18 months, earned a spot on the dean's list, and delivered the commencement speech for her graduating class. As Kai's story gained traction, appearing in public became risky. Kimberly found herself recognized even during simple trips to the local grocery store in Pearland. "The owners of the apartment we rented moved us to a larger unit without raising the rent," she recalls, highlighting their thoughtful generosity. "They also registered all the utilities under their names to keep our location confidential." This period followed Kimberly's separation and eventual divorce from Kai and Kaleb's father, alongside a costly relocation. Before settling in the Pearland apartment, the Shappleys resided in a shelter while Kimberly pursued a health-science degree at a community college, aiming to become a nurse despite only having a ninth-grade education. "I was required to take placement tests, as they expected I would need remedial classes," she notes. Kimberly completed her degree in 18 months, earned a spot on the dean's list, and delivered the commencement speech for her graduating class.

For Kai and her mother, Kimberly, visibility serves as a strategic tool: They see fame and success as a lifeline, offering a route to a safer, less exposed existence.

Following her enrollment in nursing school, which was financed by grants essential for supporting her family, Kimberly was compelled to maintain her grades. "If I didn't, we wouldn't be able to afford rent. So we managed, surviving on roughly $208 a month, and the kids knew to go to the gas station for toilet paper if we ran out," she explains. It was during her time at nursing school that Kimberly began to question the religious teachings on gender and sexuality. She engaged her instructors with deep questions, such as whether a child can comprehend their own gender identity sufficiently to assert it. She discovered that many children are capable of this recognition by the age of three, despite their assigned gender at birth. One evening, as she tucked Kai into bed, Kimberly noticed her daughter's legs were blue from restricted circulation; in a hidden act of desperation, Kai had been wearing doll clothes that were too small, clinging to the girlhood she was denied. Kimberly had once believed it was her divine duty to suppress her child's femininity, going so far as to shave Kai’s head and dress her in boys’ clothes. But Kai remained resolute. "Kai didn’t just tell me she was a girl," Kimberly recalls. "She’d say, ‘Mom, you know I’m a girl.’" Observing depressive signs in her toddler, Kimberly made a profound decision: "I had to choose to love my child more than I loved the church."

Church was once the center of socializing, worship, and guidance for Kimberly, where pastors directed the congregation on "how to think, how to vote, and what movies to watch," she recalls. Raised in a community spanning Mississippi and Texas, she was ordained as a charismatic minister, leading her to serve at a Houston megachurch. However, this chapter closed when Kimberly chose to embrace Kai's gender identity. The decision led to isolation for Kimberly and her children, cutting ties with their church, distant relatives, and long-standing friends.

At that crucial juncture, Kimberly recalls praying fervently, asking God to condemn her to hell if she was making the wrong decision. "I'm the one allowing Kai to live this way," she explains. "If this is a sin, then I want God to punish me, not my child." During the period marked by the bathroom debates at school and intense media scrutiny, Kimberly partnered with Equality Texas, an organization that champions the rights of LGBTQ+ Texans and supports parents of transgender children. At a press conference, she directly addressed the LGBTQ+ community, seeking forgiveness: "I apologize for every instance I misused a Bible verse to harm you," she declared. "I was a hateful representation of a loving God."

In the summer of 2017, Kimberly was unexpectedly invited to be the keynote speaker at the Houston Pride Festival. "Just a month before, I had been preaching against LGBTQ+ people from the pulpit," she shares. As she approached the event, she faced harassment from Christian protesters. "Even when I held homophobic views," she remarks, "I would never have twisted the scriptures on their signs so aggressively out of context." What left a lasting impression on her from that first Pride was the warm reception from queer adults who asked her to bless their elderly parents and shared their hopes of having a mother as accepting as her. It was as if she was back in church, praying over people, asking God to heal their families. Kimberly recalls this with a smile: "I prayed for more people at Pride than I ever did in church."

Liberated from church constraints yet facing non-cooperation from Kai’s school, Kimberly relocated her family to Austin in 2018. There, Kai and Kaleb joined Menchaca Elementary, part of the LGBTQ+-supportive Austin Independent School District. During a visit at the close of a school day, I spoke with Principal Eliza Loyola in her office about Kai's initial year as a first grader. "When I first met Kimberly, the conversation was straightforward," Loyola recalls. "She said her daughter needed a bathroom, and I said, 'Okay.'" As I walked through the corridors of Menchaca, I noticed signs decorated with children's handwriting proclaiming trans rights, and a wall celebrating Black excellence. Principal Loyola attributes all these initiatives to her district's clear backing of LGBTQ+ students, highlighted by an annual Pride event. "During times when Pride Week is under attack, and our district counters by showcasing our Pride celebration, it sends a strong message: we are not retreating. We’re openly promoting and sharing what we believe in."

At Menchaca Elementary, Kai's recent public exposure—including an Emmy-winning "Them" documentary and features in Vice News, and Time, as well as her acting debut on Netflix’s "The Baby-Sitters Club" Bailey Delvecchio (portrayed by Kai Shappley) is a six-year-old trans girl in the The Baby-Sitters Club (Netflix series). She only appears in Mary Anne Saves the Day, where her character's story mirrors her own as a trans girl misunderstood by adults—hasn’t been overly emphasized.

Character

Bailey has short blonde hair and fair skin. She used to wear attire typically seen as boy clothing, but now she wears typical little girl attire instead. She was at first misgendered by her doctors, when she had to go to the hospital. Mary Anne stood up for her at the hospital and the doctors apologized. Watch the Episode below.

For Kai and Kimberly, such visibility serves strategically: fame and success are seen as crucial for a safer, less exposed life. "Kai will need to earn a substantial income," Kimberly notes, "because the safest places for queer individuals are in America’s most expensive cities." However, it wasn’t until fourth grade last year, after testifying at the state Capitol and urging Texas lawmakers to "make good choices," that Kai openly shared her identity with her classmates. With much of the school year conducted via Zoom, Kai initially kept her camera off, but her teacher, Mary Ellen Gillam, recalls the transformative moment Kai turned her camera on to discuss her advocacy efforts. Gillam supported Kai through her coming-out process, ensuring she knew she didn’t have to respond to any questions. Yet, Kai chose to engage, answering questions and receiving invitations from classmates to support her at her next speech. "I'd never seen her be this open with her peers before," Gillam observes. That spring, as Kai and her brother returned to in-person classes at Menchaca, the school’s security and administrative staff provided a protective layer against online threats, safeguarding Kai from potential harm.

At the time this was written, 26 states have introduced anti-transgender legislation. Ohio is considering the Save Adolescents From Experimentation (SAFE) Act, following the example of similar laws enacted in Arkansas last year, which prohibits gender-affirming healthcare for transgender minors. In Texas, Governor Abbott's directive has been the subject of legal battles. In March, an appeals court in the state, responding to a lawsuit filed by the ACLU and Lambda Legal, maintained an injunction that prevents investigations into parents. However, in May, this injunction was partially reversed by the Texas Supreme Court. By June, a judge in Texas had once again halted the investigations, with further court hearings on Abbott’s directive anticipated.

What are the consequences when transgender children are removed from their families? They face foster care and an uncertain future. Since September 2019, at least 104 children have died in Texas’s long-term care system, six due to verified abuse by caregivers. Principal Loyola strives diligently to protect her students from such harsh realities, yet achieving this is often unfeasible. "Discussing what’s occurring statewide inevitably impacts how I view our school's daily environment," Loyola admits. When Governor Abbott's directive was issued, Kai was in the middle of fifth grade. In response, Kimberly decided to withdraw both of her children from school to homeschool them, even while continuing her work as a nurse with a nonprofit serving underprivileged communities in Texas. Kai's fifth-grade teacher, Erin Gerton, found herself in a distressing predicament—mandated by the directive to report transgender students and their families, though she was determined not to comply. Overwhelmed by these circumstances, Gerton has chosen to relocate to Portland, Oregon. "I can no longer teach in Texas," she states. "It's heartbreaking, especially with the state facing a teacher shortage, but the ongoing issues are too obstructive to the education of children."

Although Kai no longer attended Menchaca, she participated in the graduation ceremony with her fifth-grade class. During our conversation, Principal Loyola becomes visibly emotional. "You know she's not called Kai at school, right? We refer to her as Esther here. She's just an 11-year-old girl who plays on the playground and studies for her tests. Kai is her public persona." The biblical story of Queen Esther, who saved her people from destruction, is Kai's favorite. "Watching Esther thrive and seize opportunities is truly remarkable," Loyola shares. "But I'm aware of the challenges her mother faces; they've battled so much for normal school experiences. Now, because of her high-profile activities, she can't have those experiences. She's still young enough not to view this as a burden, but others impose it on her, and that's difficult."

As Kai approaches middle school, her safety network will change, with many of her friends attending different schools due to zoning. Kai is looking forward to a future that hopefully takes her beyond Texas. She is now represented by CAA, opening doors to potential opportunities in front of cameras, additional TV appearances, and campaigns. Kai maintains a star-in-training demeanor, projecting confidence even as she nervously picks at her hands. Kimberly is concerned for her daughter but recognizes that pursuing success is the only option they see viable.

At the end of Kai’s bed, there are two black-and-white portraits of Dolly Parton, gifts from the singer herself. Dolly serves as her guiding light, embodying a savvy southern blonde who naturally excels at contributing positively to the world. Kai admires Dolly’s children's literacy initiative and relates it to her own advocacy efforts, recalling a time she facilitated a discussion on misgendering with her school staff and classmates. Kai is a born orator and storyteller, having spent her young life appealing to adults for respect and sharing her experiences widely. This has led her to work on a book proposal for a Christian children's series that addresses queerness. Why target Christian audiences? "Because Christian families need help," she explains. At just 11 years old, Kai understands that achieving freedom is a collective effort.