As Transgender Day of Visibility approaches on March 31, many media outlets will celebrate trans stories—and rightfully so. Transgender representation in film and television has improved over the years, but too often, these portrayals rely on harmful, outdated tropes.
Visibility is important, but how we are seen matters just as much as being seen at all. Many Hollywood scripts still frame trans characters through a cisgender lens—casting us as plot devices, martyrs, or sidekicks, rather than whole people. These clichés not only fail to reflect the depth of real trans experiences but also reinforce stereotypes that have real-world consequences.
It’s time to rewrite the script. Below are five common tropes still found in mainstream media, along with real examples—and suggestions for more affirming, inclusive storytelling.
The Gender Reveal Twist
The Trope: A character’s transgender identity is revealed as a shocking twist.
This trope hinges on the idea that a person being transgender is a surprise worthy of gasps and dramatic music. It’s often used to create conflict, drama, or discomfort—at the expense of the character’s humanity.
Example: The Crying Game (1992) is one of the most well-known examples. The film’s “big reveal” centers on the discovery that Dil, the romantic interest, is a transgender woman. The moment is designed to shock both the audience and the protagonist, feeding into outdated ideas of deception.
Why It’s Harmful: This framing suggests that being trans is inherently deceitful. It reduces a complex identity to a twist ending and plays into dangerous real-world narratives about trans people hiding something.
A Better Way: Introduce transgender characters as trans from the beginning—without fanfare. Make their identity a natural part of who they are, not the focal point of a dramatic turn. When handled with honesty and respect, the reveal becomes irrelevant to the plot—and that’s a good thing.
The Cis Savior
The Trope: A cisgender character takes center stage by guiding or saving a transgender person.
In these stories, the cis character is often portrayed as the one with wisdom or compassion, teaching the trans character how to accept themselves. The narrative arc often centers more on the cis character’s emotional growth than on the trans character’s journey.
Example: In Transamerica (2005), Bree, a trans woman, takes a cross-country road trip with her estranged son. While Bree is the protagonist, much of the emotional resonance and growth is framed through her son’s experience and perspective.
Why It’s Harmful: These narratives may seem supportive on the surface, but they center cis feelings and understanding rather than exploring the trans character’s autonomy. The message becomes, “Look how good this cis person is for accepting you,” instead of, “You are enough on your own.”
A Better Way: Let trans characters grow and discover themselves without needing to be rescued. Center trans voices and experiences. If an ally is part of the story, make sure their role supports—not overshadows—the trans character’s development.
Passing as the End Goal
The Trope: The story revolves around the trans character’s desire or ability to “pass” as cisgender.
The idea of “passing” often becomes the entire arc for the trans character: how well they can change their voice, appearance, or mannerisms to conform to cisgender norms. Success is measured by how indistinguishable they are from a cis person.
Example: Boys Don’t Cry (1999), based on the true story of Brandon Teena, emphasizes the risks and rewards of being perceived as male in a hostile environment. While the story is grounded in reality, it reinforces the idea that passing is essential to survival or acceptance.
Why It’s Harmful: While passing can be empowering for some, stories that treat it as the only “happy ending” erase the experiences of many trans people who don’t—or choose not to—pass. It implies that visibility is something to be hidden, not embraced.
A Better Way: Showcase a wide range of trans experiences. Include characters who are proudly out, nonbinary, or visibly trans. Representation is most powerful when it shows that there is no single way to be valid.
Dead by Act III
The Trope: Trans characters are frequently killed off—often violently.
Whether it’s to evoke sympathy, deliver a moral lesson, or create stakes, trans characters often don’t survive their own stories. These deaths are frequently framed as inevitable outcomes of being trans in a dangerous world.
Example: Dallas Buyers Club (2013) features Rayon, a trans woman who dies partway through the film. While the story centers around the AIDS crisis, Rayon’s death is used to emotionally drive the cis male protagonist’s development.
Why It’s Harmful: Constantly showing trans people dying reinforces the idea that our lives are tragic by default. It contributes to despair, especially for young trans viewers who want to see themselves surviving and thriving.
A Better Way: Let trans characters live. Let them experience love, joy, adventure, and growth. Survival shouldn’t be a radical act—it should be normal. We deserve endings that aren’t tragic.
The Token Trans Character
The Trope: A single trans character appears in an otherwise all-cis cast—and they have no community, no depth, and no story beyond their identity.
These characters often show up to make a show seem progressive, but they lack meaningful interactions or relationships. Their identity is often their only defining trait.
Example: Many network TV dramas introduce a trans character in a one-off episode or subplot. They’re the tech expert, the sassy friend, or the background activist—but they rarely get a full arc or meaningful development.
Why It’s Harmful: Trans people don’t live in isolation. We’re part of communities. We have friends, families (chosen and biological), allies, enemies, and everything in between. Reducing us to “the trans one” reinforces the idea that we’re rare, other, or alone.
A Better Way: Build out trans worlds. Show community. Let us exist in groups, in friend circles, in queer spaces, and in everyday settings. Trans characters deserve the same richness and connection that cis characters receive without question.
The Bottom Line
Hollywood has made progress, but if transgender visibility is going to mean something, it has to evolve past outdated narratives. With more trans writers, directors, and actors entering the scene, there’s never been a better time to challenge these tropes and create something new.
One promising example is the recent documentary Will & Harper (2024), which follows actor Will Ferrell and his longtime friend Harper Steele—a transgender woman—as they embark on a cross-country road trip. The film focuses on friendship, self-discovery, and joy, offering a refreshing departure from trauma-focused narratives. It’s proof that trans stories don’t have to be tragic to be powerful.
Representation doesn’t have to be perfect. But it does have to be honest, nuanced, and diverse. Let’s move past the pity and the plot twists. Let’s give trans characters full lives, unexpected adventures, and complex emotions.
Because we’re not just here to be seen—we’re here to be understood.
