When transgender TikToker Dylan Mulvaney began rising to fame, transgender actress Laverne Cox shared one piece of advice with her: “Keep things for yourself.” This mantra proves to be at the heart of Elliot Page’s emotionally charged and strikingly honest memoir Pageboy, where the Oscar-nominated actor chronicles his journey from Hollywood to self-discovery.

Page’s stream-of-conscious writing style gives the reader a glimpse inside his mind, where he reveals his deep struggles with familial abuse, gender dysphoria and queerphobia. However, we are never brought into a clear timeline, with chapters jumping from childhood events to early career moments to the recent pandemic. Without a chronological order of events, Page weaves us through his immediate thoughts, sometimes drifting from impactful life moments to retelling historical events like the Halifax Explosion. This makes the memoir as whole feel intensely honest, almost as if the reader is having a conversation with Page where he gets off track and goes on factual tangents.

However, like any conversation, Page holds certain details close to his chest. For instance, he spends several chapters working through many of his past romantic relationships but spends very little time discussing his marriage to Emma Portner, only briefly mentioning their divorce.  By keeping certain things to himself, Page is making it clear that he owes his story to no one but himself.

Nonetheless, Page does acknowledge in the author’s note that he felt it necessary to share his story in today’s social climate writing, “as attacks against gender-affirming care increases, along with efforts to silence us, it feels like the right time to put words on a page.”

“As attacks against gender-affirming care increases, along with efforts to silence us, it feels like the right time to put words on a page.”

Elliot Page

Page goes on to explain that he does not intend to speak for the entire transgender community and urges his readers to seek out other LGBTQ+ narratives. This statement felt necessary for the memoir since Page’s story is very different from many other transgender individuals. In one of the final chapters when he discusses his transition, Page admits how privileged his experience is since he was able to afford gender-affirming care and obtain it in a safe, timely manner. However, he admits that trans people should not feel guilty for the care they needed writing, “Even though I am extremely lucky, this narrative where trans people have to feel lucky for these crumbs – that we fought hard for, and still fight for – is perverse and manipulative.”

Even though Page is famous, that does not take away from his experiences as a trans man. Therefore, Pageboy is just as much a trans narrative as any other memoir authored by a trans person. He may have certain privileges, but that does not mean he hasn’t suffered injustices. In fact, he shares several heart wrenching accounts of transphobia and queerphobia that he has faced throughout his life.

Regardless, the memoir does not only focus on his struggles. Page gives truly moving accounts about many of his romantic and platonic relationships, explaining that when his biological family was lacking, he found his own chosen family who supported him throughout his transition. This is certainly something that every reader can relate to.

As a cisgender woman, I cannot remember a single time in my life when I questioned my gender identity. Therefore, reading Page’s deepest feelings surrounding his own identity made me feel a newfound closeness to the trans community. I have never felt unsettled in my skin, and I cannot imagine experiencing that every day. Pageboy gave me a mere glimpse of what it means to be transgender, and I plan to take Page’s advice and read more firsthand accounts to better educate myself on the LGBTQ+ community, and I suggest all of you reading this do the same.