A lived name is about recognition and respect, not entitlement

A name is among the first things a person is given, but for some, it is not necessarily the name by which they come to know themselves.

For others, being addressed by the name they live by can mean something as simple as being seen and respected. It can affirm an identity that may have taken years to understand, accept, and share with others. 

Among Transgender and Gender Nonconforming (TGNC) individuals, the name printed on government documents may not always be the one they use in classrooms, friendships, or everyday life. Being called by a name that no longer represents them can turn an ordinary moment into an uncomfortable reminder of an identity they no longer claim.

At the Polytechnic University of the Philippines (PUP), that question of recognition has reached one of the most significant moments in a student’s life: graduation.

Students’ initiative for inclusive rites

The push for lived-name recognition was led by PUP Kasarianlan, the official student organization for people of diverse SOGIESC in PUP, in February 2026, together with Luisa Pangan, the Student Representative of the Gender and Development (GAD) Focal Point System, and the Gender Equity, Diversity, and Social Inclusion Office (GEDSIO).

Through the “Petition to Uphold Inclusive Practices During Commencement Exercises in PUP Manila,” the groups called on the university to recognize students by their lived names during the 2026 Year-End Commencement Exercises.

The petition proposed using lived names in graduation slides and when graduates are called during the ceremony, as well as recognizing their preferred pronouns and honorifics. It also outlined a process through which graduating students could submit their lived names and preferred pronouns to the university.

According to Rianne Dacanay, Programs Officer of PUP Kasarianlan, the campaign was not new in 2026. Kasarianlan had been working on the issue since 2023, collaborating with the then-president of the Sentral na Konseho ng Mag-aaral (SKM) and the GAD Office, now known as GEDSIO. The organization had filed petitions and communicated with concerned offices in an effort to push for the recognition and eventual institutionalization of lived names.

Dacanay also said in a Facebook post that the petitioners met with concerned university offices in June to clarify that using lived names during graduation would not alter legal documents, such as transcripts of records and diplomas. An updated mechanism was later submitted, but after an initial approval was recalled, the campaign gained renewed momentum through TGNC students calling for support online.

Earlier this month, the Office of the Student Regent (OSR), the student body’s representative to the university’s Board of Regents, the SKM, and the Student Council Assembly (SCA), along with other allies, submitted their version of the petition.

The petition was followed by a September 12 mobilization that renewed pressure on the administration. The university later approved the use of lived names during the 2026 graduation rites.

While welcoming the approval, Rianne also raised concerns in a Facebook post about how the initiative was being represented in media reports, particularly the absence of the petition’s original proponents from some accounts of the development.

“I’m not saying that my face should be plastered all over media for what we did. A simple mention of the main petitioners in the interviews and press releases would suffice. We’re not asking for the world, we’re just asking for recognition.” 

Rianne said the concern was not personal publicity but acknowledgment of the work behind the policy. The campaign was also supported by other student organizations, advocacy groups, and civil society allies whose signatures broadened the call for equality, nondiscrimination, dignity, and respect for people of diverse SOGIESC. 

Following months of petitioning and dialogue, the university committed to allowing graduating students to use their lived names during the commencement exercises. The development has since moved beyond the petition itself, circulating through posts by PUP Campus Journalists and Explained PH and reaching a wider audience through an ABS-CBN News report published September 13.

But behind the posts, headlines, and online conversations is a more personal question for the students who use lived names: What does it mean to finally hear the name that represents you being called at one of the biggest moments of your life?

For the students and advocates who pushed for the change, the answer goes beyond a name appearing on a screen or being called from a stage. It is about recognition—the recognition of a person’s identity, dignity, and the years of struggle behind the name they choose to live by.

More than a name

A lived name is the name a person chooses and uses in their everyday life, which may differ from the name reflected in their government or official records. Whereas a “government name” or  “dead name,” by contrast, is the name given at birth or the one used in legal documents.

For some PUP students, that distinction is not merely administrative. It is tied to how they understand and present themselves to the world.

Sean Adem, a 19-year-old transgender man and second-year BS Computer Engineering student, said being addressed by a name he does not use made him feel uncomfortable and sometimes unseen, particularly when it happened in front of other people.

He said, “Being addressed by a name that I do not use made me feel uncomfortable and sometimes unseen. It felt like the name did not represent who I truly am.”

When asked how he would feel when he graduates and hears his lived name, he said that it allows a milestone he has worked toward to be celebrated through a name that reflects who he understands himself to be.

Mich Date, a 24-year-old transgender woman graduating as a Bachelor of Technology and Livelihood Education student, similarly described the recognition as something that acknowledges students during one of the most remarkable moments of their academic lives—a time that culminates years of hard work.

That is why, for her, being allowed to use the name she is comfortable with is part of celebrating those achievements without having to hear a name she rarely or never uses.

It is also important to note that lived-name recognition does not necessarily replace a student’s legal identity.

The petition instead calls for lived names to be used in appropriate settings during commencement, including graduation slides and the calling of graduates, while also asking the university to recognize students’ preferred pronouns and honorifics.

As Mich explained, allowing lived names does not mean changing official records or documents, including diplomas. “The use of lived names in appropriate settings does not alter our legal identity; rather, it simply allows us to be addressed by the name we actually use.”

For advocates, then, the issue is not about rewriting official records. It is about allowing a student to be addressed by the name they actually use during a milestone that publicly celebrates who they have become.

Recognition years in the making

Janna M. Marzan, a 21-year-old transgender woman, affiliated with PANTAY and PUP Kasarianlan, said the fight had already been underway before she entered PUP as a student. 

The approval was not simply a new policy. It was a breakthrough after a long-running struggle by gender-diverse students and advocates.

She recalled months of work by members of PUP Kasarianlan, Gender Focal Point System Student Representative Luisa Pangan, and the GEDSI Office, beginning with a petition in February 2026 and continuing through dialogues with the administration.

The approval, she said, should therefore be seen not only as a win but as a challenge to the university to make recognition more consistent.

“Kaya ngayon ay hamon ito sa PUP Admin kung ang pag-apruba sa paggamit ng lived names for the 2026 graduation rites ay one-time thing or taun-taon na ba siyang i-implement.”

(This now leaves the PUP administration to consider whether the approval to use lived names during the 2026 graduation rites will be a one-time measure or something that will be implemented every year.)

Marzan also pointed to the possibility of expanding the use of lived names beyond graduation rites, saying that greater inclusivity in the university could help LGBTQ+ students feel seen and safe in their day-to-day experiences.

For Janna, lived-name recognition is a form of affirmation in a society where gender-diverse people continue to face questions about whether they can live authentically as themselves.

According to her, “With everyday being a challenge to live in a world na constant ang pag-question kung kami ba ay karapat-dapat to live authentically as ourselves and being forced to live in a binary, it’s a different kind of relief na sa isang significant moment sa buhay namin ay matatawag bilang kami—authentically as ourselves.”

(With every day being a challenge in a world where we are constantly questioned about whether we are worthy of living authentically as ourselves and are forced to live within a binary, it is a different kind of relief to know that, in a significant moment in our lives, we can be called by who we truly are—authentically as ourselves.)

The recognition, for her, is therefore not simply about what appears on a graduation program. It is about being affirmed at a moment when students are publicly celebrated for what they have achieved.

When recognition becomes personal

The significance of a lived name can also be understood through the experiences that precede its public recognition.

For Stun Esteron, a 19-year-old homosexual male and a model from PUP Icons, recognizing a person’s lived name can help create an environment where people feel free to be themselves without fear of judgment or discrimination.

“I also think that when schools, workplaces or communities make an effort to use a person’s lived name, it promotes understanding, empathy, and as well as equality,” he added.

For Stun, the practice is therefore not limited to graduation. Extending recognition to schools, workplaces, and communities can help foster spaces where people feel acknowledged and accepted for who they are.

The significance of recognition, however, extends beyond individual experiences.

Ja Espina, a transgender woman affiliated with PANTAY and PUP Kasarianlan, shared that the lived names students use are products of journeys that cannot be separated from the struggles they have faced.

“Mahalaga ito dahil hindi naman namin kinilala ang aming lived names nang basta-basta, o isang umaga lamang pagkagising mula sa pagkakatulog. Bunga ito ng matagal na pakikibaka at proseso ng pagkilala sa aming sarili sa gitna ng diskriminasyon at pagbura sa aming pagkakakilanlan.”

(This is important because we did not recognize our lived names on a whim or simply wake up one morning and decide on them. They are the result of a long struggle and a process of recognizing ourselves amid discrimination and the erasure of our identities.)

She expressed that recognizing lived names goes beyond acknowledging a person’s chosen name, along with the thought that it also means recognizing the experiences and struggles behind it. For her, such recognition is a step toward creating truly inclusive spaces that extend beyond the university and into the broader society.

For Ja, recognizing a lived name therefore means recognizing the experiences behind it—not merely the name itself.

Let’s go back to what SOGIE means

The conversation around lived names is also connected to a broader understanding of SOGIE—or sexual orientation, gender identity, and gender expression.

Sexual orientation refers to a person’s pattern of emotional, romantic, or sexual attraction. Gender identity pertains to how a person understands their own gender, while gender expression refers to how a person communicates or presents that gender through appearance, behavior, mannerisms, or other forms of expression.

These are distinct aspects of identity, but together they help explain why a person’s identity cannot always be understood through their name or sex assigned at birth.

For transgender and gender-nonconforming people in particular, the name they use can become part of how they express and affirm their identity.

That is why, for PUP Kasarianlan members and other advocates, lived-name recognition is connected to the greater demand for an inclusive university—one where students are not forced to choose between being formally recognized and being recognized as themselves.

From SOGIE to Legislation

The push for recognition at PUP also exists within a broader national conversation on SOGIE-based discrimination.

In the Philippines, proposed anti-discrimination measures have sought to prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and expression, with newer proposals also using the term SOGIESC to include sex characteristics.

Several versions of these measures have been filed in Congress, reflecting the continuing debate over legal protections for LGBTQIA+ Filipinos.

But legislation is only one part of the conversation.

Policies within schools and institutions can shape how people experience recognition in their everyday lives. For students, that can mean something as seemingly ordinary as how their names appear on a list, how they are addressed in class, or how they are introduced during a ceremony.

At PUP, the lived-name petition brings that broader discussion into a specific institutional setting: a public university and the students it serves.

From petition to practice

For Rianne, as one of those involved in submitting the petition, the university’s response came after months of following up with the administration.

“As the organization and the person who passed the first petition, it was a huge relief that the PUP administration now understands what our TGNC students go through. I personally use my government name, but hearing from our fellow TGNC students, this gives them the utmost confidence to go up the stage to collect their diplomas.”

He said the recognition also affirms the identity of students who go by their lived names rather than their government names, adding that the decision came after months of following up with the administration.

He noted the recognition also exposed what he described as a loophole in the university’s existing inclusive policies. While PUP has policies concerning the LGBTQIA+ community, lived-name recognition had remained an area where students could experience discomfort or misrecognition.

He emphasized, however, that recognition should not stop at the commencement exercises. “We have yet to hear from the administration on what the process or mechanism will be placed for the students to use their lived names during the graduation… But since the graduation is weeks away, we have to propose a much more simpler and faster way for students to submit.”

With the commencement exercises approaching, implementation remains a key concern for petitioners and students who intend to use their lived names.

More than one student concern

The call for lived-name recognition was accompanied by another demand during the mobilization: the abolition of graduation fees.

For students and advocates, the two issues may address different barriers, but both concern the conditions under which students experience graduation.

Janna similarly described the two concerns as intersectional. While lived-name recognition can protect transgender and gender-nonconforming students from being misrecognized, she stated removing graduation fees can address financial barriers faced by a wider range of students.

She told us, “It’s a broader call to make education more accessible to the people. Kung ang lived name policy ang proteksyon para sa mga TGNC siblings natin sa pamantasan, ang pagbabasura ng graduation fees ay isa ring proteksyon para sa malawak na hanay pa ng mga estudyante para sa mas aksesableng edukasyon at pagbasag sa mga hadlang sa bawat Iskolar ng Bayan upang makapagtapos.”

(It’s a broader call to make education more accessible to the people. If the lived name policy serves as a form of protection for our TGNC siblings in the university, the abolition of graduation fees would likewise serve as a form of protection for a wider range of students, making education more accessible and breaking down the barriers that every Iskolar ng Bayan faces in order to graduate.)

Ja also stressed the financial burden that graduation fees can place on students, particularly those from working-class families.

The concerns may address different barriers, but both ask the university to consider what students need to experience graduation not only as a requirement they complete, but as an achievement they can celebrate with dignity.

What comes after the name?

The approval of lived-name use during graduation is a significant step for students who have long asked to be recognized by the names they actually use.

But for the students and advocates who pushed for it, the policy cannot end with the ceremony.

Janna hopes recognition can eventually extend beyond graduation and into the day-to-day experiences of PUPians. Rianne, meanwhile, wants the university to establish a clear, simple, and accessible mechanism before the commencement exercises begin.

For Ja, the victory itself is proof of what collective action can achieve, but not a signal that the struggle is over.

Other students share the same concern: an approved policy matters only when students can actually use it.

At graduation, recognition may last only a few seconds—the name appears on a screen, a voice calls it across the hall, and a student walks toward the stage. But for someone who has spent years being called something else, those few seconds can carry the weight of being seen.

The recognition of a lived name does not erase a legal record. It recognizes the person standing behind it.

And if PUP can recognize students by the names they live by at the moment they cross the graduation stage, the next question may be what happens when they step off it.