Elliot Rattner loved being in the Navy from the moment he stepped into bootcamp. That attachment only grew when, after earning a law degree by attending night school, he was commissioned into the Judge Advocate General's Corps (JAG), the legal branch of the armed services. A pending assignment to a base in Seattle, where he’d be putting his skills to use advocating for victims’ rights, was a dream come true. Then Donald Trump was re-elected for a second term, and that dream was crushed when the new administration imposed a ban trans people in the military. Despite his sterling record and impressive accomplishment, he was forced to abandon a way of life that he had embraced, and had embraced him by only caring about his performance and character.
To wrap up our Pride Month celebration, we bring you a far-ranging Q&A with Elliot, a native of Michigan. Along with his experience in the military, he talks about the challenges of growing up as a trans person who, lacking any role models whatsoever, was left to travel a rocky path toward self-discovery, as well as the elation felt when he finally began living as his authentic self. He also, among other things, talks about having a strong, especially significant emotional impact, and why, upon leaving the military, he chose to return to his home state.
Our conversation started with talk of Elliot’s childhood.
What were things like for you as a little kid?
I grew up in Franklin, a small town in the suburbs, just north of Detroit. My family was always very supportive of me, even if I didn’t understand at the time what I was going through. They just thought of me as someone who went through “stages”, and that I would grow out of it.
I was always considered what people often describe as a “tomboy.” We had a family friend who referred to me as Scout from “To Kill a Mockingbird” because I was always outdoors having my own adventures. And hated wearing dresses. I was always the blue Power Ranger when playing with my cousins, and no one could tell me differently. When girls my age were discovering makeup and MTV, I was obsessing over Pokémon. Not that these things are necessarily gendered activities, or that a person’s likes and interests define their gender in any way. But looking back I think I knew I was different from my female friends, I just didn’t know why.
Then comes puberty, an awkward time for almost anybody. What was it like for you?
I was like, “Ugh, I don’t like this! My body doesn’t feel right.” When I started developing breasts, I remember using ace bandages to strap them down. This was in the early 2000s, so the was no YouTube or anything like that for me to learn from. And I didn’t know anyone who was trans – I didn’t even know there was such a thing as trans people—so I was trying to figure out these complicated things with nothing at all to help me understand or guide me. I just thought something was wrong with me.
I started dressing in boys' clothes for a little bit, and it felt really great. It felt like being me. But the other kids started making fun of me. So I thought, maybe if I just try harder to be more feminine I can fit in and be happy. That led me to start thinking that maybe I didn’t feel feminine because I wasn’t skinny enough, even though I’m a smaller person and was already thin. And that kind of thinking led to developing an eating disorder. I dropped down to 112 pounds and still couldn’t feel feminine. I read etiquette books to be more ladylike, and modeling to get external validation. Nothing ever seemed to line up. Looking back, objectively, I was a really beautiful woman. But it never felt correct.
When did you finally realize who you are?
Actually, I didn’t fully realize I was trans until I was around 28 years old. I’d been in the Navy for six years at that time, and was married to a straight man. I’d become very close friends with another trans individual, and he was inspiring. It caused me to have a kind of awakening. I remember sitting in car with my husband, bursting into tears and saying, “I think I’ve figured out why I hate my body so much. I asked him, “Do you really think I’m a man?” And he said, “I think so.”
What was it like for you to finally come to that realization?
Terrifying and liberating at the same time. But mostly terrifying, at least at first. I was 30 years old, married to a straight man, had a career that could be placed in jeopardy by coming out at that time, and was afraid that I was going to lose everything. And honestly, I did lose a lot. But what I lost, I gained back exponentially once I started living authentically and truly getting to know my real self.
That experience also seemed to speak to the importance of people like your friend, who was able to be himself, and by doing so, showed others they could do the same…
Absolutely. As a teenager or young adult, if I’d been able to know other people who felt the same way I did, wouldn’t have felt so all alone and crazy. I would have known a lot sooner that there wasn’t something wrong with me. I wouldn’t have had the struggle I went through for so long.
You mentioned being in the Navy. Why did you enlist?
I had just graduated from MSU and really felt the need to belong somewhere, and to be doing something that matters. I also seemed to subconsciously gravitate toward something that’s stereotypically considered a more masculine profession. All that added up to me joining the Navy.
Did you like it?
I loved the Navy. From bootcamp on I really embraced it. I became a specialist in Arabic. Being paid to learn a language was a dream job. I was a linguist for about 10 years.
Then, in 2018, I began attending law school at night at the University of Maryland. A year later, I began my transition. So, after graduating law school in 2022, I became the first openly trans person to commission to the U.S. Navy JAG Corps, which is the legal branch of the Navy. It was an honor, not only to be joining the elite, but to have been selected with the accessions board knowing I was transgender, and not only accepting that but celebrating that.
Why law school?
I was angered by the anti-trans policies that started to be implemented after Donald Trump first took office in 2016, and wanted to do something to fight back against his administration, to put myself in a place where I had the ability to actually change things, and becoming a lawyer seemed like the most effective way to do that.
Then, once I began taking classes, I really fell in love with the law. It fired me up to learn how much reform was needed to address injustice in our legal system. And the more I learned, the more I wanted to be in a position to help make those reforms.
How did things change for you and other trans people when Joe Biden took office in 2020?
On the second day of his administration, President Biden issued an executive order allowing trans people to openly serve in the military. I remember sitting at my desk, waiting for the announcement. As soon as I saw it, I burst into tears. It was just a flood of relief, because, up to that point, I couldn’t legally change my name, couldn’t change the gender marker on any of my documents, couldn’t appear as my authentic self at work, couldn’t fully medically transition through the military. And then, with the stroke of a pen, I could stop living a lie and just embrace being me.
I was 31, and felt really free for the first time in my life. I don’t think I ever realized that the level of happiness and confidence I began feeling was even possible. I had experienced happiness at points in my life, but nothing came close to the absolute joy and euphoria I felt living life authentically. I remember thinking, “Wow, this is what it means to be truly happy, and to really love yourself.”
Then, after four years of experiencing the freedom to be yourself while in the military under the Biden administration, Trump moves back into the Oval Office and the ban on trans people is re-instated. How did that hit you?
It was like a stab to the heart. I’d devoted much of my adult life to the Navy, and made sacrifices in order to serve my country. I’d just been assigned to a base in Seattle, where I’d be working as an attorney advocating on behalf of victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. Everything I’d worked so hard for was finally coming true. I was beyond proud. I was ecstatic. And I was planning on staying in the Navy until I put my 20 years in, retired, and then started using my skills to begin helping people as a civilian.
Then, all of a sudden, to be told that everything I’d done, all the hard work I put in, and all that I’d accomplished meant nothing just because I am transgender, that was crushing. My husband and I were both so depressed we could barely function.
Why do you think it had such an impact on you?
In my experience, one of the great things about the military – at least when Trump isn’t the Commander in Chief – is that people didn’t care if I was trans, or how I presented myself. In fact, during the Biden administration, all my experiences in the service were incredibly positive. All people cared about was whether you are a good person, and are good at your job. Which I was. All of my performance reviews, including my physical fitness evaluations, were considered outstanding.
That fact speaks to one of the things that is so harmful about the ban. Individuals are suffering an incredible amount, of course. But the military overall is being weakened because the ban is pushing out many highly trained and extremely competent people who are an asset to this nation. Pilots and commanders and medical personnel and radar technicians – jobs all across the board, all through every branch of the military – all because of bigotry and irrational hatred based on inherently false information.
So, remaining in the service was not an option at all?
Correct. We could either leave voluntarily or be forced out. But, either way, a whole group of people were being expelled from jobs they loved and were good at, including me.
Which is why you moved back to Michigan this year?
Yes. I moved with my husband to northern Michigan, where I took a job in the public sector that will allow me to continue using my law degree to help people, advocating for them, and helping to keep them safe.
Before we get to a few more light-hearted questions, is there anything you think needs to be pointed out first?
We are currently seeing a lot of anti-LGBTQ laws, especially transphobic laws, being introduced, and unfortunately, often passed in state legislatures across the country. Because the trans community itself is an extremely small minority, we need our allies to step in a big way and help not only defeat this wave of harmful legislation, but to also begin advocating for proactive laws that will help and protect trans people, not make their lives more of a struggle.
What allies can do is learn about the issues we are facing by talking to trans people and listening to our stories, then show up to vote and demand that elected officials start working on new laws and policies that will benefit trans people.
Shifting gears a bit, what’s in frequent rotation on your playlist these days?
Fank Turner, an English singer/songwriter, has been at the top of my playlist since 2008. However, in 2021, when I was first starting to live openly as myself, I was listening to his new album and stumbled across his song “Miranda.” It is about the relationship between a son and his father, who comes out as a trans woman later in life. There is a line from that song that goes:
“And after all we’ve been through
Miranda, it is lovely to meet you.”
I heard that line and I just sobbed, because it was so nice to hear a singer like Turner, someone I’d idolized growing up, express such a sweet sentiment. It made me realize that there are a lot of people out there who love and support us.
Finally, what gives you hope for a better, more inclusive tomorrow?
Throughout Pride Month I’ve seen the broader community showing up and speaking out, not just for lesbians and gays, but for trans people as well. All the support I’ve been seeing at various Pride events brings me a lot of hope. I also know that I and others in the trans community will continue standing arm in arm on the frontlines, because we know it is not just ourselves we’re protecting. The question everyone needs to ask themselves is, “If our government can try to erase one whole class of people with the stroke of a pen, who will be next?”