"You lose your grip, and then you slip
Into the masterpiece"
For Dan, to your seventh "Daniversary"
And to Julie and TJ, lighthouses in the storm
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A few years ago I was asked to be part of a 4-person panel on how, as parents, we can support LGBTQ+ youth. We spoke twice, once at a public library in Mount Pearl, and then a few weeks later in St John's. We may do so again in the future. I hope so.
In preparing for each night, knowing we'd each get to speak for about 10-15 minutes at the start before the interactive portion, I prepared a list of talking points. I didn't write up a proper speech. I have a two-pronged approach to preparing for any future conversation that - this may surprise you - goes back to a biblical passage I read in my youth. Speeches, lectures, or important conversations about 'logical' things I prepare carefully. Anything more 'emotional' I intentionally don't prepare, but instead have only a few ideas of what I'd like to talk about, and then just "wing it" so that it's a more sincere experience, guided by both myself and the audience. You can't force emotional connections, you can only facilitate them.
The speeches at the two presentations therefore varied, but I covered all the same main points even if I spoke about them in different ways. It was not recorded, but I remember much of what I said, and given the audiences were fairly small, I thought it might be worth writing it down and sharing it here for others. I've been meaning to do it for years. Apparently I don't have a 'round tuit'.
So what follows is roughly what I said. It's likely a little more, as I have the space and time here to expound further on what I was saying.
Without further ado...
I remember fondly the first time I attended a Pride event. I didn't march in the parade but rather set up in the park with friends and family - my sisters were there with me and some of their kids came along as well, waiting to receive the parade at its destination. It was a beautiful, bright, sunny day. As I stood there and watched the parade arrive, people pouring into the park, this incredibly diverse collection from all across the spectra of sex, gender, race, religion... just pouring and pouring into the park dancing and singing and smiling and laughing... I felt an emotion I've seldom experienced in my life, so seldom that at first I didn't even recognize it.
I felt awe.
I felt genuine awe. I'm a natural skeptic; awe is a rare experience for me. And as I stood there, slack-jawed, I could not help but think:
If only the naysayers could see and experience this - this moment right here, right now - how could anyone, anywhere, ever want to settle for anything less?
My step-son came out to his mother seven years ago. It was a sort of series of revelations scrawled on napkins from the glove compartment in the car. He knew he didn't feel right. He knew he didn't fit in the role society had thrust upon him. First it was 'I think I'm a lesbian.' My partner told me about it. We were both just fine with that. It was a non-issue. In some ways, as a dad, I actually felt a little relieved. I was a young man once so I know what young men are like. I wasn't looking forward to our little girl reaching the dating years.
Next it was 'I think I'm pansexual.'
That required Google and a little reading.
But again we were just fine with this. Again, we felt as though this was a non-issue. I realize either of those may have been of concern to some parents. For us, it didn't shock or worry us. We knew either of these options would make things a little different, but not in a way that caused us alarm.
Finally, it was 'I'm transgender.'
While transgenderism is nowadays a part of common conversation, back at the time it was nearly unheard of. This one threw us into shock. It was like a sudden loss of gravity. We were, as many parents are, completely ignorant on the matter. All we knew was this: whatever it means, the child comes first. We knew that much, and little else.
While transgenderism is nowadays a part of common conversation, back at the time it was nearly unheard of. This one threw us into shock. It was like a sudden loss of gravity. We were, as many parents are, completely ignorant on the matter. All we knew was this: whatever it means, the child comes first. We knew that much, and little else.
Do we accept this? Do we push back? Doctors, hormones, surgeries? Our heads were swimming. My partner did some research and we were fortunate to quickly find a parent support group where we could come and ask questions and get answers and support, both emotionally and in terms of logistics.
And I cannot overstate how important that was.
Granted, things have changed a lot in the last number of years. To put it in context, it was before Trump took office and started reversing human rights policies of the Obama administration. This was a time when everyone was largely ignorant and only just before the tide of "bathroom bills" began. Transgenderism was not part of day to day language, and openly trans politicians were pretty much unheard of.
But the issues trans people face, and that we would face as the parents of a trans child, remain numerous. I'm not here to speak to all of them. I remember telling friends back then "if you've got 100 questions, I only have the answers to half of them, and trust me, I have 100 more than that". There are way too many things to cover in ten minutes, even if I fancied myself an expert, which I do not. But I'd like to speak to a few of the first ones to arise for us as parents, and a few of our important early discoveries.
Be Supportive
First things first, being supportive of your child's gender identity and journey is the right decision. I consider it a no-brainer, and it was a decision we came to almost immediately. Every bit of valid research you'll find will tell you the same. The outcomes are so much better. Trans children in homes without a supportive parent have four times the rate of teenage suicide. With support, it drops back to more normal rates. Think about that for a second.
If you're reading this, my hope is that it's because you're trying to learn, possibly because you're a parent of a trans child, possibly even having only recently discovered so. If so, your reading this is likely an indication you've already made the decision to support your child on their journey, in which case stop and take a breath: the single most important decision you need to make... has already been made. Congratulations! You got it right.
It's a Journey
You child has embarked on a journey.
The reason our child's coming out happened 'in steps' is because it's a journey for them. They're fumbling along, figuring out who they are, and this is one large and important piece. Gender, gender expression, sexuality. These are all different pieces, though we often mix and confuse and conflate them.
When a young child comes out as trans, people react by saying "how can they possibly know at such a young age?" When an older child comes out, people react by saying "wouldn't they have known before now?" It's denial either way. If a child is insistent, persistent, consistent, then chances are it's very real and not a "phase they're going through". And even if it was "just a phase", why fight it so hard? Why not let them explore their identity and their world? Why not support them on their journey and let them figure things out for themselves?
Scientists now know that children have a sense of gender by the time they're as young as two to four. But they lack the language to express it well at that age, and they don't understand the implications enough to think it important. So often a trans child "coming out", if and when they do, may be much later, when they've reached an age where they better appreciate the (unfortunate) importance their society places on it. And they're still going to have the experience of learning their own sexuality - separate from gender and gender expression - as they go as well. They're navigating the world trying to figure out who they are, and trying to find ways to express that. Be patient. Give them the room to grow and support them as they do.
For Both of You
You have a journey ahead of you too, and it's important to understand and recognize that. There's no simple checklist or map of "do this and this and this and you're sorted". It's going to be a lot longer and more complicated than that, I'm sorry. It's going to be day by day, and just when you think you've got a lid on things, you'll be side-swiped by something you didn't see coming. But you know what? That was always going to happen with a cis child anyway. If you thought differently you were probably deluding yourself. The difference is that with a cis child, you can easily convince yourself you know what all the issues will be before they arrive, and how you plan to deal with each as they arrive. Instead, you're now forced to admit you don't know what comes next. But well... that's parenting.
Let's admit it: there's no manual. We're all winging it, forever gripped by Imposter Syndrome because in at least some of our heads, our own parents had it all figured out. No, they didn't. They winged it. Just like you. Yes, the challenges will be different ones. Yes, some will be difficult. But the rewards will be different and interesting too. The future will be different, but just because it is now more unknown to you doesn't mean it need be dark. You still get a hand in ensuring it's bright. And as someone a little farther along this journey, let me assure you: it can be quite bright.
Don't be in a hurry to simply move from one set of checkboxes to another. Cis. Trans. Straight. Gay. Pan. The checkboxes are the problem. Our need to put everything into tidy little categories is a coping mechanism that creates more problems than it solves. People are people. Let them be. Let them be themselves and let them shine.
Give Yourself Room for your Own Feelings
When parents first find out their child is trans, many experience a set of intense, confusing, difficult feelings, a sense of loss, that they will be tempted to term grief, as though they feel like they've lost a child.
First, while these strange feelings are very legitimate, please don't use the word grief. It is problematic and carries too much baggage. It is not grief, obviously, as your child is still very much alive, and to use the word grief is actually pretty unfair to those who have lost a child, as well as to trans people - especially children - as if to suggest they are somehow responsible for this chaotic set of emotions you're facing. This is a part of your journey, not theirs. They have enough to deal with, and you cannot burden them with the responsibility of helping you sort through your feelings about all this on top of their own struggle. You're the parent. You're the adult.
But these peculiar, chaotic feelings many experience can feel akin to a sense of loss, and are challenging to process. I've referred to it as "the chaos" or "the void". It's a sort of massive disorientation. It's something most people around you can't relate to and probably couldn't understand or appreciate even if you explained it. And you are likely experiencing this at a time when people around you don't even know your child is trans yet, so you can't even try to discuss it with friends or family to work through it. So you find yourself confronting this emotional challenge and feeling as though you're going it alone.
What you'll come to realize in time is that you're not missing anything, at least nothing real. The child hasn't gone anywhere. Your history together hasn't gone anywhere. You've lost nothing. Rather, the elaborate fantasy you've spent years constructing in your mind of the bright, wonderful future that you want for your child is the only thing that has gone away, or "the script" as a trans friend put it to me. You lost the script to the play. But the child, this wonderful person you've been raising, they're still here, and in fact, they're beginning to blossom into who they truly are, their authentic self. You wrote the script long ago, in the back of your mind, because you love your child and were concerned for their future, just as all good parents are. But you wrote that script to quiet your own fear. And what you feel now is not loss; it is fear and confusion. It is all that fear returning, all at once and suddenly. It's fear of the unknown.
But you don't need to be afraid, and you don't need to be alone.
This is one of those things that parent support groups and therapists are for. They can help you understand the truth. They help you learn. They help you process these changes and more forward. They help you best support your child. And they remind you that this is not a solitary experience, but one many people face. And the more you learn, the more you educate yourself, the more you "steer into the skid" and accept your role and your journey, the faster that fear fades.
You equip yourself with the tools necessary for this new future.
You equip yourself with the tools necessary for this different, surprising future.
You equip yourself with the tools necessary for this bright future.
What I didn't know back then that I know now is just how much of a wonderful journey it would be for me.
I was starting to see it, sure, but nowadays I happily say, unequivocally, that Dan's coming out as trans was one of the best things that's ever happened to me. My own personal growth as I came to really examine constructs like gender, to scrutinize how people are socialized differently to act and react differently in similar situations, to listen and explore how the world is experienced uniquely by different people from varying background experiences... it has opened my mind to entire avenues of thought I can't begin to describe. Even the music I choose to listen to and how I listen to it, trying to gain insight into the infinite ways in which people experience the universe... it's all different. There's no going back and I wouldn't want to.
Do I still sometimes get afraid for Dan, as a parent thinking about his future and the challenges he may face? Sure, just as any parent does. Are those concerns maybe a little different? Sure, maybe, sometimes. Are there a few extras? Sure, maybe. Whatever.
But the shining brilliance of his unique existence is more than enough to dispel whatever darkness the world possesses. At the end of the day... a quote from one of my favourite films springs to mind:
"The mystery of life isn't a problem to solve,
but a reality to experience."
