Indigo Giles remembers the lonely feeling when they first came out as nonbinary in eighth grade: Neither teachers nor students made much effort to acknowledge their new identity.
“I do think that would have made a big difference in my struggle with my mental health and with feeling secure in who I am as a person at a much earlier age,” Giles said in an interview with The Barbed Wire. “If there had been a teacher who had just said, ‘Thank you for telling me that, thank you for trusting me.’ … then nothing has to change other than that teacher would now call me by a nickname, right?”
Today, at 24 years old, Giles is proudly nonbinary and, since August of last year, a special education assistant at a Texas public school. But under the current laws of the state of Texas, their ability to support LGBTQ+ students is tightly restricted. Educators in 2026, especially ones like Giles who are themselves part of the LGBTQ+ community, are forced to navigate a confusing maze of vaguely written policies, under the far-reaching restrictions placed on schools by Senate Bill 12, the so-called “Parental Bill of Rights,” which opponents have often compared with Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” law.
Signed into law last summer, and taking effect at the start of the school year, the law uses vague language to ban schools from, among many other prohibitions, educating students about gender identity, or supporting their “social transition.” At some schools, this has led to teachers being told to “deadname” transgender students (call them by their birth names rather than their chosen names) or only use their last names.
In August, a federal court temporarily blocked the parts of SB 12 banning diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives in schools in the Houston, Katy, and Plano districts, under an injunction granted in a lawsuit launched by the ACLU and the Transgender Law Center. The entirety of the law remains in effect elsewhere in the state.
Giles obtained a psychology degree two years ago at the University of Texas at Austin, then took time off to save money before intending to return to school to get a graduate degree to become a child therapist or developmental psychologist. After working as an office manager for a tech company (“soul-crushing,” Giles said) and for a few months as a barista (“a true nonbinary Austinite rite of passage,” they described) they decided to apply to work at a school as a way of adding more experience with kids to their resume. But in the process, they inadvertently discovered a passion for teaching.
“I am … shifting my entire life path: I plan on going back next summer to get my alternative certification, to get my teaching license, so that I can be a fully licensed special education teacher,” Giles said.
(Giles is not allowed to speak as a representative of the school where they work or discuss its specific policies, but The Barbed Wire has verified that they are employed with a Texas public school district.)
The administration at the school where Giles works is supportive of their identity but, even so, joining a Texas public school as a nonbinary educator in 2026 was an intimidating process. “On my first day, I got called into the principal’s office and I had that childhood (feeling), ‘Oh my gosh, am I in trouble?’”
Instead, the principal wanted to discuss how Giles was, or wasn’t, allowed to talk about their gender identity in class.
“We ended up figuring something out that didn’t involve putting me back in the closet, which is very nice but I still, every day when I’m at work, walk around with just that cloud hanging over me because I’m not allowed to explain my pronouns to the kids,” Giles told The Barbed Wire. When Giles is at work, the kids refer to them as “Teacher Indigo” rather than using “Mister” or “Miss.”
Although this solution has worked through the school year so far, Giles worries that even this small difference from the norm might be enough to alert a conservative parent who may have heard their child talking about Giles. They’ve also had to carefully negotiate with the administration about how they are or aren’t allowed to dress, addressing special concerns such as whether they can wear clothing with pride flags.
“It’s not necessarily about what my admin is going to have trouble with,” Giles explained. “It’s if a parent sees this and raises a stink, am I going to get in trouble? Is my school going to get in trouble with the district?”
Giles believes that all these restrictions make it harder for them to connect with their students.
“There’s so much that can be gained with building rapport and that foundation of trust with students, with being honest and open with children, obviously, to developmentally appropriate levels and all of that. … especially with my position in special education.”
In addition, they’re not allowed to acknowledge any pride colors or other LGBTQ+ symbols worn by the students. “I’m not trying to get into any inappropriate territory, but especially coming from a background of being a queer child in the public school system, at that young age, it would have been so meaningful for me to have a teacher just say, ‘I see you and I acknowledge you.’”
The details of how to implement Senate Bill 12, or even definitions of many terms, are not specified, leading to widespread confusion and policies that differ wildly from district to district and school to school, The Barbed Wire found through multiple interviews with Texas public school teachers and open records requests. One policy slideshow about Senate Bill 12, obtained from Austin Independent School District, is rife with question marks, suggesting even administrators don’t know when it’s appropriate to use a student’s chosen name.
Other activities forbidden under Senate Bill 12 include offering medical care without a parent’s permission or educating children about diversity, equity, and inclusion-related topics. As widely covered in the media last September, the law’s prohibition on giving medical care without permission left school employees, from educators like Giles to nurses, unclear about how or when they’re allowed to help their students with emergencies or even basic first aid like band aids. “There’s this sort of sense of panic and confusion” over the law, Giles recalled.
“The people in that room are professionals at what they do (and) if there’s one thing that everybody in a school building knows how to do, it is take care of kids,” they said. “Well, now I’m not allowed to do what I know is best for these kids.”
When it comes to restrictions on subjects related to diversity, equity, and inclusion-related topics, Giles said many educators continue to teach as they always have, in the absence of clear guidance. “Until we get more clarity, and until we’re told specifically, ‘This is what you can’t do,’ I guess we’re just going to continue business as usual until we get more information, because we can’t really do anything with this right now.” But they noted that some schools, such as those banning the use of nicknames for some or all students, are obeying in advance — essentially, anticipating the spirit of the law and willingly capitulating — without even being required to do so by the state.
On March 18, Giles appeared in Austin, alongside transgender advocates for LGBTQ+ rights, on a SXSW panel called, “Resistance, Resilience, and Reality: The Fight for Trans Equality.” The panel, which was organized and moderated by Equality Texas, also featured Morgan Walker, an attorney at Lambda Legal, a nonprofit dedicated to defending the legal rights of LGBTQ+ people. Walker spoke with The Barbed Wire about LGBTQ+ rights in Texas, though she emphasized that she can’t give legal advice and can only talk generally, not about specific cases or situations.
“Though Senate Bill 12 talks about a prohibition on assisting a student with (social) transition, it doesn’t define what that means: It doesn’t define what assistance is, and it doesn’t even really clearly define transition,” she said.
Walker told The Barbed Wire that the law does not ban the use of nicknames or chosen names, even though some school districts have interpreted the law that way.
“If a kid shows up in class and gives a nickname, SB 12 does not compel that teacher to go back and research that child’s anatomy or dig through public records to find a birth certificate or wherever it may exist in the world,” Walker said. “It may very well be true that teachers who are respectful of students and conscientious of the weight of these kinds of things may just tell students, you know what, I honor your nickname.”
She added that anyone concerned about the potential effects of the law should reach out to the Lambda Legal Helpdesk or the ACLU of Texas.
During the SXSW panel, Giles warned against the dangers of letting fear make people over-react to laws like Senate Bill 12. However, they hoped teachers would still do all they can to support kids.
“What I’ve been seeing a lot of is sort of preemptive compliance out of fear, which, as an educator, I totally understand the fear of, ‘If I do the wrong thing, I can lose my job,’” they said.
Giles also urged people to get more involved at the school board level, both by voting and showing up for meetings, where Republicans have dominated the agenda.
“Because these things can start at the school board level, and nobody’s paying attention to the school board races, (they) just flood the school boards … pass all of (their) policies through, and now, boom, they’re running the public education system.”
International Transgender Day of Visibility is held every year on March 31, serving as a way to raise awareness about trans lives and their needs.
“When the people in charge are actively and deliberately coordinating efforts to erase our identity and our history, we must not allow them to succeed,” Giles said when we asked them to reflect on the holiday. “I am so proud to be openly nonbinary in my role as a teacher, because it is deeply important for people of ALL ages to see that gender diversity belongs EVERYWHERE, and that people who are gender diverse can be successful professionals.”
They closed with a message to both trans and cisgender people:
“To the trans community, and especially any trans youth out there: I see you, and I love you. Keep fearlessly being your authentic self, and the world will catch up with you when it’s ready. To the cisgender allies: Tell a trans person in your life that you see them, love them, and are here for them today.”
Kind Clinic, a program of Texas Health Action, underwrites "Big & Bright," The Barbed Wire's coverage of queer life in Texas. All editorial decisions are made solely by The Barbed Wire's editorial team with no input from Kind Clinic or Texas Health Action.
Kind Clinic is dedicated to advancing sexual health and wellness through its healthcare services and community-based initiatives across Texas. The clinic provides care in a safe and supportive environment, offering comprehensive services to patients across Texas.
