In a recent interview with Harper’s Bazaar, actress Carrie Coon revealed that a storyline involving her character’s non-binary or possibly transgender child was quietly cut from Season 3 of The White Lotus—a decision she says was made in response to the political climate following Donald Trump’s reelection.
Coon, who plays Laurie, a recently divorced New York lawyer vacationing in Thailand with two longtime friends, explained that the original script gave viewers more insight into her character’s life back home—specifically, her relationship with her child, Ellie.
“There was a bit more context to her home life,” Coon shared. “You originally found out that her daughter was actually non-binary, maybe trans, and going by they/them. You see Laurie struggling to explain it to her friends, struggling to use they/them pronouns, struggling with the language, which was all interesting.”
“Too Small” a Scene for “Too Big” a Topic?
According to Coon, the scene was short but powerful. It added emotional depth to an already tense dinner conversation in episode three, where Laurie confronts her friend Kate about potentially voting for Trump. “It made the question of whether Kate voted for Trump so much more provocative and personally offensive to Laurie, considering who her child is in the world,” she explained.
But when the time came to edit the episode, the scene was scrapped.
“The season was written before the election,” Coon said. “And considering the way the Trump administration has weaponized the culture war against transgender people even more since then, when the time came to cut the episode down, [show creator] Mike [White] felt that the scene was so small and the topic so big that it wasn’t the right way to engage in that conversation.”
While the decision may have been made with good intentions, its consequences are troubling. For many viewers—especially transgender individuals and their families—it raises a difficult question: Why is our existence always the first to be erased?
This wasn’t a sweeping political diatribe. It wasn’t a lecture. It was a quiet, human moment—a mother fumbling with language, trying to do right by her child, while navigating the discomfort and ignorance of her peers. It was, by Coon’s own account, a scene filled with struggle and love and imperfection. And yet, it was cut—not because it didn’t matter, but because it mattered too much.
In other words, even Hollywood—often touted as one of the most liberal, inclusive spaces in American media—felt the pressure to back off a storyline featuring a non-binary character, fearing backlash or mishandling the issue amid an emboldened anti-trans political climate.
The implications are heartbreaking but clear: A second Trump administration has already begun chilling free expression around trans identities in pop culture. Whether through fear of controversy, concern over political retaliation, or the weight of responsibility, the outcome remains the same—our stories get shelved. Our characters get cut. Our visibility disappears.
And let’s be honest: trans and non-binary people don’t need flawless representation. We don’t need grand speeches or perfect allies on-screen. What we need is presence. We need the ordinary, everyday stories—the fumbling, the learning, the loving, the trying. When those stories are deemed too risky to include, it sends a clear message: we are not safe, even in fiction.
The Bottom Line
The loss of Ellie’s storyline doesn’t just reflect a missed opportunity for representation—it reflects the real-world consequences of policy, politics, and perception. When a sitting president doubles down on anti-trans rhetoric and policy, it doesn’t stay in D.C. It echoes into writers’ rooms. It reverberates through casting decisions. It silences meaningful, nuanced moments that might have helped someone—trans viewers, parents, and friends—feel a little less alone.
This isn’t just about one cut scene in a glossy HBO drama. It’s about what that cut represents. It’s about the cost of erasure.
For trans people watching at home—especially youth and families navigating identity with hope and fear—it’s one more reminder that visibility is fragile. That even in our victories, we’re still vulnerable. That even in 2025, with all our progress, our stories are still treated as too “big” to tell.
So to the trans community, their families, and their allies: Let this moment be a call, not a quiet. Demand better. Support media that shows us as we are, even when it’s uncomfortable. Hold space for the messy, beautiful, real stories. And most importantly—keep telling yours.
Because if The White Lotus wasn’t ready for Ellie, the world still is.
