Billions: Thoughts on Representation

Yesterday was Trans Day of Visibility, and it got me thinking about one of my favourite television shows of the moment. In fact, that's the entire reason this comm got set up -- because I wanted to tell the internet how awesome this show is (even if actual people are unlikely to see or read this). First, I should probably caveat this with something: I don't actually really like this show. Billions is about a bunch of rich men that make lots of money, try to keep that money when another rich man double-crosses them, and is just generally very focused on men's perceptions of themselves as the dominant ones. I don't really care if the main character, Axe, gets what he wants. Even if I did, with all the money-related schemes going on, I certainly don't understand how he has managed to get his way when he does, or sometimes even why it's that imperative that he does. In each show, there's probably a good ten minutes of plotline which makes absolutely no sense to me (and not in the good, suspense-building way). I didn't bother watching the first season before I started watching season 2 (the newest one). In any other circumstance, I wouldn't bother watching this at all.

However, this is not any other circumstance. For those who have not watched Billions, the reason that I keep watching is a particular new worker at Axe's company that has just started working there after finishing their internship within the company.

That character is called Taylor, and they are nonbinary. In the very first episode that they are introduced, they go up to their boss and say 'My name is Taylor and I use they/them pronouns' (or something along those lines). If I hadn't been watching the show because I already knew this was going to happen, I probably would've fallen out of my chair right there and then. Even with knowing what was going to happen, I still couldn't believe their boss' response - 'Okay'.

Okay.

That was it -- no 'but you're a girl/boy' or 'but it's too hard' or even a confused 'what?' response. Just 'okay'.

Even writing about this now, I can't quite believe it -- it brings me near tears just to think about. I honestly didn't think that, in my lifetime, I would see such a perfect moment of nonbinary representation and understanding. Heck, there are shows out right now that still can't work out how to treat gay people (cough the 100 and Supergirl, cough), and yet we're lucky enough to get a nonbinary person who comes out with no repercussions or misunderstanding?! It boggles my mind.

But it also makes me feel like maybe there's a chance for us -- not just in fictional companies but in real ones.

Jeffrey Marsh has talked a lot recently on their social media (go check them out if you haven't, they're great) about the focus on trans kids that is happening in the US, and they've pointed out that, hey, we need to focus on trans adults too! I wasn't really sure what that meant before I started watching this show, but now I do.

If we're only ever shown trans and nonbinary children -- especially for us nonbinary folks, who seem to have even less of a history behind us than binary trans folks -- we start to have this kind of implicit understanding that there are no trans or nonbinary adults. I think it depends on the situation and person as to what that actually means, but for me, it means a couple of things: 1) as I get older, I'll learn to cope with all the horribleness and just go back into the closet to never be seen again or 2) if I don't do that, I'll be at the frontier -- I'll be one of those people that does the first nerve-wracking rendition of 'My name is Elijah, and my pronouns are ey/em [or they/them if that's the way I decide to go]' to their boss and hopes for that 'okay'.

That second thing? It's really terrifying. I'm at university at the moment, and am kinda half-out socially and not out institutionally at all, which is fine, but I've started doing a bit of volunteering, and all of a sudden that kind of stuff appears. I start wondering what name I should use on official things, and then after that if I should ask them to use a more non-official name, and so on. I signed up to a thing that could lead to volunteering or even a job the other day, and the thing I signed up to originally had a 'nonbinary' option for gender and asked for your name and preferred name, so I plucked up the courage and wrote both those things down. The application for the job and volunteering, however, didn't ask for gender or preferred name -- it was just 'full name'. So I had to decide, again, what to do -- or rather, I had to re-commit myself to being out, when the things that gave me the confidence to do so were suddenly gone.

I started thinking about it -- if I got a job, or even if I volunteered, I might want to put that on my CV, or ask the organisation to write me a reference. While I'm sure I could just ask them not to out me for the reference, it was still scary to think of sending off a job application to some far-off job prospect with one of the references given using gender-neutral pronouns for me, and actually using my name. It was exhilarating, but it was also really scary -- being out at volunteering (I'm kind of a quarter out where I volunteer at the moment, maybe? It's hard to tell how much people talk!) is fine, because if people are horrible, you can just leave. The idea of being out when looking for jobs who might just refuse my CV off the bat from prejudice (either subconsciously or consciously) is really scary. I'm not sure if I have the guts to do that just yet (or ever).

In the end, I put off applying to the volunteer/job opportunity. I was just too scared to even think of making that jump just yet -- that jump from the safe to the unknown.

And that's one of the reasons that having trans adults on TV and seeing this character on TV is so important. Having nonbinary characters on TV -- whether that's with them having jobs, or children, or partners, or anything really -- gives us scripts to follow. It gives nonbinary people faith in the idea that they can navigate these scripts as nonbinary people. It means that we can look at someone like Taylor (as much as we may feel like the reality of their introduction is probably long-off) and think that yeah, maybe we can do this. Maybe I can write my name on that job application. Maybe, one day, I will introduce myself to my boss like that. And maybe -- just maybe the world won't fall down around my head. Perhaps my boss will just say 'okay'. Perhaps (just like later on in Billions) my boss will stand up for me when I'm misgendered. Perhaps they will see me as an asset to the working environment, not just some freak they can't fire because of equality laws.

In essence, nonbinary characters like Taylor allow us to dream. That's why, even though there are lots of problems with visibility and representation (which I will probably talk about more some other time), media representation is so important.