Out of the Closet and Onto the Field: One Trans Woman’s Experience in the Marching Arts
Morgan Peters (she/her) currently serves as the assistant visual caption head at the Seattle Cascades as well as a drill writer and visual instructor in northern Colorado. She has been a member of MAASIN since the spring of 2024 and currently serves on the onboarding and communications committees. She is a Master’s student at Colorado State University.
There’s nothing quite like being the only trans woman on the field at a critique. Or in the elevator going to the crow’s nest at San Antonio. There’s certainly no stranger feeling than sharing the women’s bathroom at a Buc-ee’s with the incredulous family on a road trip who can't quite understand where the dozens of teens who live on a bus just came from, and certainly don’t like seeing you among them.
Being a transgender staff member at a world-class drum corps is an experience I count among the most rewarding and most challenging aspects of my life. It has brought endless joy and pride to my career as a teacher. Simultaneously, navigating the activity while trans presents its own unique set of challenges and heartaches. In the 2017 queer theory anthology Trap Door, trans authors, performers, and artists write about what is called the ‘trans paradox’: increased visibility of trans people across all levels of society marks progress while also leading to heightened violence and discrimination against those same people. Navigating this paradoxical environment is an ever-present dynamic I remain acutely aware of even as I make my way forward in the activity.
Being a visibly trans educator, especially in an activity historically dominated at all levels by cis white men, is not without its challenges. For one, a lack of visibility for trans people in the profession means I occupy an extremely small niche. Midway through the 2024 season, I joined a group chat with all of the known world-class educators who identified as transfeminine- all four of us. With the recent growth in overall staff hires across the activity, it is likely that we make up less than a fraction of one percent of all the educators in drum corps. In 2025, when I stepped into a caption leadership role, I believe I became the only trans person across the entirety of drum corps actively working in a caption head or assistant caption head role in any caption.
In the judging environment, this can present a frustrating situation. Often at critiques, my appearance is the first thing people notice about me- I can’t tell you how many times I’ve listened to judges give me feedback on the guard, even with male guard staff members present, just because I’m the only woman standing there, even when I couldn't throw a double to save my life. In more unique situations, when I and a cis female colleague are attending critique, she will get the “female = color guard” treatment while I’m left with the visual comments, even though we both are visual staff members.
The gendering of roles for both performers and staff is a relevant and persistent dynamic that still permeates how judges interact with staff members and how staff members interact with performers. As a trans person working in a visual staff, I attempt to queer this dynamic through my existence off and on the field.
The more present challenge I face daily is personal comfort and safety. Touring with a drum corps means visiting states, cities, and counties in areas of the country I often wouldn't willingly visit unless I absolutely had to. Tour through Texas and the Deep South, or what I jokingly refer to as the “passing Olympics,” is a yearly source of stress. After the 2024 election, I had colleagues who refused to tour through this region for their own personal feelings of safety. Visiting these regions has taught me a valuable lesson about my own transness, passing, and society at large: It’s really not as bad as you think it is.
For one, passing is a social phenomenon. In this context, passing refers to a transgender person’s ability to be perceived as the gender they desire to present as; in my case, this means passing as a woman. The author Elaine Ginsberg outlines the consequences that come from being “clocked”, or found out, on a person’s physical and mental well-being.
More often than not, the ability to pass is contextually based on voice, dress, and other factors. As a trans woman living in the uniquely transient space of a drum corps, my ability to pass becomes less central because of the fluidity with which I can move through space- did the cashier just clock me? It simply doesn't matter- by the time it may have happened, I’m already back on the bus and off to the next space. Passing in this case becomes less central to my identity because my day-to-day safety no longer relies upon it.
Additionally, there is great safety in numbers. I never go anywhere on tour alone- an old habit from my days as a member, when the buddy system was a central tenet of life. With the staff, we travel everywhere in at least duos or groups of four or more- this, again, provides a safety blanket for me in a potentially dubious environment. This strategy isn’t unique- a 2021 program by the Alliance for Girls and BART called Not One More Girl aimed to raise awareness of gender-based violence on public transit and ensure a decrease in solo ridership on BART vehicles.
Lastly, and perhaps most importantly to my own sense of comfort, I’ve found that most people simply don't care that I’m trans. This is revelatory, especially in a time when, increasingly, trans people are under attack by both the media and the government. I've found that I can walk into nearly anywhere across the country- from a coffee shop in the Bay Area, a roadside laundromat in rural South Carolina, or a deli in small-town Pennsylvania- and be greeted with warmth and kindness by those inside. This has done more for my own sense of self-confidence than anything else- simply being unafraid and present is enough to help me connect with people I’d otherwise remain fearful of.
Outside of personal issues, being a trans staff member presents a whole new dynamic when I interact with members. For one, it often puts me in the position to advocate for the queer members of the corps, of which there are many.
In 2024, it was estimated that around forty percent of my corps was comprised of members of the LGBTQ community. While I can’t speak for every corps, this represents a massive increase from the time when I marched, where we may have had fewer than ten members. A corps with a larger-than-average queer community has its own unique routines to navigate.
As anyone who’s marched is aware, managing the difficulties of a shower schedule can make for a stressful EPL. For a gender non-conforming member, this can represent an insurmountable obstacle. Working with both the members and the administration, we created a shower time for trans, nonbinary, and GNC members to be able to meet the demands of drum corps in an affirming and low-stress setting. As we travel, we may pass through states where bathroom policies are in place- in response to this, we have created a secret visual code to identify which times and places this shower takes place to avoid advertising to non-members of the corps that we may be in violation of state law. For us, member safety takes priority over everything. I am happy to work for a corps that takes these issues seriously.
Obviously, as a visibly queer adult on staff, I also serve as a safe place for members to seek advice. This, to me, is my most important duty as a staff member. I can't tell you how many times a member has come to me for advice or to vent about their own pressures of existing in the drum corps world or even the real world as a queer person. This is where my identities as a staff member and as an older trans person come together most often. How do I support young queer students in the marching arts? Sometimes, it’s as simple as giving advice for how and where to best locate resources locally. Sometimes, it’s standing watch so a student can take a testosterone shot in a truck stop bathroom. Oftentimes, it’s as simple as just existing.
This is, I think, why I do it- to serve as an example. If I can do it, then so can they- and if they can do it, then so can I. The reciprocal relationship we have is such that our queerness- and our visibility- lends strength to the other person. I know that I am serving as a role model that I certainly never had as a young queer in drum corps- a successful, confident, thriving trans woman in the marching arts.
Morgan Peters
MAASIN Core Member