The case of a transgender teenager in Ecuador opens the way for others seeking legal recognition

Her name is translated from Spanish as “beloved”.

“We decided to name her Amada because she came to our house to be cherished,” said Lorena Bonilla, whose transgender daughter was recently allowed to change her identity documents under a ruling by Ecuador’s Constitutional Court.

Her case — along with another decided in March — opened the door for Ecuadorian teens seeking to have their names and genders changed in official records. Adults gained this right after years of advocacy efforts that culminated in the 2024 reform.

The court’s rulings were welcomed by gay rights supporters in a region where conservative movements have gained ground in recent months. However, they also warn of the legal and social hurdles that transgender people still face.

“In Ecuador, there are still political, religious, and social sectors that portray adolescent gender recognition as a threat,” said Cristian González Cabrera, an LGBT rights researcher at Human Rights Watch. “This climate could translate into institutional hostility, delay and unjustified denial,” he added.

Bonilla and her daughter, 17, witnessed this firsthand in 2018. Their legal battle began when Amada was 9 years old and school authorities refused to accept her because her legal documents did not match her gender identity.

“We went through 14 schools and none of them would accept her,” Bonilla said. “Then we knew we needed to change its name.”

The court initially granted Amada the right to amend her identity documents. But the civil registry appealed the decision and a higher court later ruled that her passport and identity card must reflect her birth name and gender.

“It was a step backwards for our rights,” Bonilla said.

Legal gains, growing resistance

LGBTQ+ rights in Ecuador have been shaped largely by court rulings rather than by lawmakers or government officials. A similar dynamic has unfolded in other Andean countries such as Colombia and Peru.

“The legislative and executive branches represent the broad majority in the country, yet LGBT people are often ignored,” said Cristian Paula, president of the Bacta Foundation, which provides legal support in cases like Amada’s. “Resorting to the courts reflects a lack of openness and sensitivity within our institutions.”

Of Ecuador’s most significant advances in LGBTQ+ rights, three have come through the courts. These measures include decriminalizing homosexuality in 1997, a 2009 ruling allowing a transgender woman in Ecuador to change her name, and legalizing same-sex marriage in 2019.

These court decisions sparked violent reactions from right-wing and religious groups.

In a post on the website He has also spoken out against school protocols that allow students to use uniforms and bathrooms that align with their gender identity.

The country’s Catholic Bishops’ Conference also expressed concern about the action taken by the court. She added: “Allowing teenagers to make decisions of this kind poses serious risks to their overall development.”

Little political support

President Daniel Noboa has not been as outspoken against transgender issues as some other conservative leaders in Latin America, but his administration has shown little support for LGBTQ+ rights.

As a candidate, he pledged to defend the traditional family. Since taking office, violence and economic instability have overshadowed gender and diversity issues on his political agenda.

“What worries us are his ministers,” said Diane Rodriguez, a lawyer and president of the Ecuadorian LGBTQ+ organization Silueta

Rodriguez, a trans woman, pointed to officials at the Department of Education, including current Secretary Gilda Alcivar, who have refused to include what she calls “gender ideology” in education. Rodriguez said this atmosphere is reflected in her daily interactions.

From Guayaquil, where she is raising her 4-year-old daughter with her partner, a trans man, Rodriguez has faced difficulties in her daughter’s school.

“We had trouble registering it because people see me and assume I’m going to turn kids into transgender because of my appearance,” Rodriguez said.

Throughout her career, she has provided legal support to people facing gender discrimination and supported a program that provides hormone therapy to transgender people. Her work has also focused on raising awareness about violence against her community.

Silueta Its first report in 2013 documented two killings, and the numbers rise every year. The 2025 post reported 30 deaths, 21 of whom were trans women.

From parents to advocates

Amada told her parents that she was a three-year-old girl. She requested a princess-themed birthday party. But Bonilla and her husband — both of whom were raised Catholic — assumed she was confused and dressed her as a prince instead.

It took them a few years to understand their daughter and reject psychiatrists who said there was something wrong with her or that they had done a bad job of parenting.

“The comments can be harsh and people have no idea what families like ours go through,” said Amada’s father, Mauricio Cavedes. “I hope education around this issue changes so people can understand it.”

As they learned more about the transgender community, their fight to amend Amada’s identity documents evolved into a broader issue. Bonilla and Cavedes became activists, bringing their children with them to protests and conferences. They have supported other LGBTQ+ issues such as same-sex marriage and founded an organization for families of trans children like theirs.

“This became the only way we could fight the state,” Bonilla said. “We were 25 families with transgender children of different ages, the oldest of whom was 12 years old.”

Her family moved to Canada during the COVID-19 pandemic. While she appreciates how welcomed her daughter has been in her new home, she continues to advocate for LGBTQ+ rights in Ecuador.

Amada, now a strong student who dreams of becoming a nurse, has been shaped by years of watching her parents support trans friends and community members struggling to access health care without discrimination. She has never appeared publicly on camera, but the visibility of her case feels like a lifelong legacy for Bonilla.

“People think that transgender people are destined to become sex workers or live in hiding,” Bonilla said. “But we want every parent to know that one day their child can be whatever they want to be.”

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