Elliot Page’s New Memoir Reveals He’s Still Being Treated Like A Human Being, Which Apparently Is A Controversy Now
Alright, buckle up, buttercups, because the internet has once again decided to manufacture outrage over something that literally does not affect a single person’s ability to pay rent. Our latest victim of the chronically online mob? Elliot Page, the actor, producer, and all-around nice guy who had the audacity to release a memoir about his life, transition, and general existence without first asking permission from the Grand Council of Facebook Moms.
In a shocking turn of events that surprised absolutely no one who has ever read a book before, Page’s memoir, “Pageboy,” is apparently a huge hit. It’s raw, it’s honest, and it details his journey through Hollywood, his transition, and the general horror show of being a famous trans person in a world where half the population still thinks “they/them” is a glitch in the Matrix. But because we live in the worst timeline, the book’s release has also sparked a wave of discourse that is less “literary analysis” and more “let’s just be mean to the trans guy for existing.”
Let’s break down the absolute clown show that has ensued.
First, there’s the predictable chorus of “Oh, now he’s a man? But he was so pretty as a woman!” crowd. You know the type. They’re the same people who leave Yelp reviews for hospitals. They post things like, “I just don’t understand why he had to change. He was my favorite actress in Juno!” As if Page’s entire life mission was to please some random Boomer named Karen from Omaha who hasn’t watched a movie since 2007. Newsflash, Karen: Elliot doesn’t owe you his gender presentation. He doesn’t owe you a performance of femininity so you can feel comfortable about your own unresolved issues. He’s a person, not a collectible action figure you can keep in the original packaging.
Then we have the “But what about the children?” crowd. Oh, the children. The sacred, fragile, bubble-wrapped children who will apparently spontaneously combust if they so much as hear the word “transition.” These are the same people who let their kids watch Squid Game but draw the line at a memoir that explains what it’s like to feel like you’re in the wrong body. The irony is so thick you could spread it on toast. The reality is, if your kid is reading Elliot Page’s memoir, they’re probably old enough to handle the concept that some people are trans. Or, here’s a radical thought: maybe they *are* trans and the book makes them feel less alone. But no, let’s keep pretending that ignorance is a parenting strategy.
And let’s not forget the literary critics who are treating this book like it’s a manifesto for the downfall of Western civilization. “Pageboy” is not a radical text. It’s not a call to arms. It’s literally just a guy telling his story. It’s therapy, but for public consumption and with better prose. Yet, we’ve got hot takes like, “Elliot Page uses his platform to push an agenda.” What agenda? The agenda of being comfortable in your own skin? The agenda of not wanting to throw yourself off a bridge because you hate the body you were born in? If that’s an agenda, sign me the fuck up.
The most exhausting part of this whole circus is the sheer volume of dogpiling. Every time Page posts a shirtless photo on Instagram, it’s like someone rang the dinner bell for the trolls. “Ew, he looks like a 12-year-old boy.” “He ruined his body.” “He’ll regret this.” Cool, cool, cool. Let’s just casually body-shame a trans man who is finally, for the first time in his life, happy with his physical form. That’s totally normal and not at all a reflection of your own miserable existence.
And the cherry on this garbage sundae? The people who claim to be allies but then spend hours dissecting every single word of his interviews. “Did you see how he talked about Juno? He’s so ungrateful.” Or, “He said he had a bad experience with a director? Well, that director is a genius, so he’s probably just being dramatic.” Newsflash, again: trauma is not a performance for your approval. If Page says he felt objectified or exploited in Hollywood, maybe, just maybe, he knows what he’s talking about. He was literally there. You were not. You were in your mom’s basement watching season 2 of The Office for the tenth time.
The real kicker is that the controversy isn’t even about the book. It’s about the existence of a trans person who refuses to apologize for taking up space. Page isn’t being controversial; he’s just breathing while trans. That’s the crime. If he had written a memoir about his favorite flavors of ice cream, the same people would be screaming about how his very existence is an affront to God.
The whole situation is a masterclass in privilege. Imagine having so little going on in your life that you feel the need to police the gender expression and life story of a celebrity you’ve never met. Imagine waking up, making your coffee, and deciding, “You know what? Today I’m going to be angry that a man is happy.” It’s pathetic. It’s sad. It’s peak internet behavior.
And of course, we can’t ignore the people who are like, “Why does he have to talk about being trans? Why can’t he just be an actor?” Oh, I don’t know, maybe because the entire world is constantly talking about him being trans? Maybe because every time he steps outside, someone takes a picture and writes an article about how he “used to be a woman.” Maybe because his existence is literally legislated against in multiple states. But sure, let’s blame him for the discourse. That’s like blaming a fire alarm for the smoke.
So here we are.
Final Thoughts
Elliot Page’s journey, as documented in the article, is not just a celebrity transition story—it’s a raw, human testament to the cost of living inauthentically and the profound liberation of finally claiming one’s truth. What strikes me most is the quiet, stubborn courage it took for him to step away from a blockbuster career and a public persona that were suffocating him, choosing instead a path of visibility that invites scrutiny but promises peace. In the end, his narrative serves as a stark reminder that the most revolutionary act in Hollywood—and in life—is often simply deciding to be yourself, no matter the price.