Confessions of a Politically Incorrect Trans Parent

It began in February of seventh grade. My daughter fell into the deep well of teenage dysfunction. She began having major problems in school. She became, in a various times in seventh and eight grade - Wiccan, bisexual, emo/goth and finally trans. She wouldn’t wear any of her very nice clothes because they weren’t black. She now only listened to music from groups like Black Veil Brides and Bring Me the Horizon. She engaged in self harm. Eight grade was a hard year.

I was prepared for the Wiccan identity. Having studied herbalism with a green witch years earlier, I knew that Wicca was not simply wearing the pentangle. So I fully supported her decision and took her to one of the most established Wicca stores in the area. I explained to the person running the store that my daughter was interested in Wicca and needed more information and guidance. He spent some time with us and suggested a rather thick book for my daughter’s first book on magic. I bought it for her. My daughter does not like reading, so I never heard about Wicca again.

Next my daughter wrote me a note saying that she was bisexual, I didn't blink. She wondered if I would reject her. I said I was not rejecting her, only could she please do her homework. But when she announced she was trans, that was the one that threw me. Just weeks before she had been begging me to take her to Victoria’s Secret to buy clothes. My head was spinning. She changed her name, started to secretly and dangerously binding her breasts with an ace bandage, and asked me to use male pronouns for her. I was told the mantra of “gender identity does not dictate sexual preference” and learned new vocabulary - “You know mom, there are homo-romantic pansexuals.” I was not receptive. For me, it was just another in a line of teenage identities she was trying on.

However, the trans identity stuck. All this happened some years ago, before trans was so popular. Back then the LGBTQ community was fighting for insurance companies to cover hormones, now they give them out like candy. I had to search for support and information. I remember going to my first trans parent support meeting. I expected a group of people, like me, who didn’t believe you could change your gender. You can identify however you like, change your lifestyle, change your looks, but you cannot change biology. Instead I met parents trying in anyway they could to acquiesce to whatever their child wanted. I remember a mother mentioning she had promised top surgery to her daughter for her 16th birthday. That means removing her breasts. Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen! I can hear the song playing. I thought they were all crazy. I attended a few more meetings but it wasn’t for me. I ended up in a parent support group for teens with emotional dysfunction and it was a great fit. I was the only trans parent in the group yet many of the issues ( anxiety, depression, self harm) were the same and I felt tremendous support.

I refused to give permission to get my daughter testosterone in order to transition to being male. I told her I could not do such a thing, she would have to do that herself when she reached 18. It certainly harmed our relationship because she saw me as not being supportive. I thought I was being very supportive of my daughter as a parent protecting her from damage at an early age that could not be reversed. I told her that I remembered how I was when I was 14, 15, and 16 and there is no way I was capable of making such a decision. Neither was she. Things between us were strained well beyond the usual dynamic of a rebellious teenage girl and her mother.

Going on vacation became difficult. Everything was about her and where she could use a bathroom. We didn’t go many places or stayed close to our hotel room. The demands she made were tyrannical. I was supposed to turn my whole life upside down because suddenly she wouldn’t use a ladies room anymore, but was too scared to go into the men’s room. I know I will get a lot of nasty notes about this, but I do not care. I have to say it. Part of growing up is learning that other people matter too, it’s not just about you. One of my biggest beefs with the trans movement is that it advocates as if no one else matters except the trans person. Look at what has happened to women’s sports. Biological men competing against biological women. In a recent women’s fencing championship the finalists were two trans women. Women do not matter, only trans women do.

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

I remember meeting with one of my daughter’s health practitioners and saying something about her wanting to cutoff her breasts. I was told in the most hushed, revered tone that “We do not say ‘cut off’, we say ‘remove’.” I believe I replied, “You say remove, I say cutoff.” Such was my relationship with the standard bearers of the trans movement. It has never gotten any better.

My daughter lost friends. It was hard on her. Trans was very new at that time. I remember in the supermarket seeing the mother of a girl my daughter had been close with. That mother practically ran from me. Through all of this I was getting up at 5:15 in the morning to commute to work, working a full day and then doing my teacher after school hours mainly at home. I am a single mother and the emotional stress and trauma on me was enormous. I faltered at school and had to take too many days off. My principal called me in and threatened to fire me. More stress. I found great professional support, but what always bothered me was when people asked how my daughter was doing with great concern, they never asked about me.

My daughter transitioned herself after she reached 18 years of age. It was hard to watch. We each get many gifts in life, one of my daughter’s was beauty. Now you will say I am prejudiced and that all mothers think their daughters are beautiful. That is not the case. When I show people pictures of my daughter at her bat mitzvah or as a young girl becoming a woman, they usually say “OH my god!” and look at me with a face of disbelief. She was gorgeous. Not that beauty is the most important aspect of life, but I couldn’t understand why she would destroy it. And then there was the problem of finding male clothes for her. I remember for my mother’s 90th birthday party she needed men’s slacks and a sport coat. God smiled on us that day and we found the most amazing sales woman at Lord & Taylor to help us. Trips to doctors became stressful, continually explaining her legal name and her preferred name. At the gynecologists I was supposed to talk about “my son’s” period. What a mind fuck. Through these adventures and processes I was thinking “why am I going along with this?” I believe it was because at that time, I thought the most important part of this was my daughter’s emotional health. She clearly was in serious trouble and I decided not to push too hard for fear of the consequences. I was afraid of what she would do to herself. I look back now and wonder if I did the right thing.

It took a number of years to accept my daughter’s trans identity. I was having such difficulty that I went through a formal grieving process for my daughter. I used a well known book by Anne Brener called Mourning & Mitzvah to help me. The book is not only for losing a loved one who died, but can be used as a workbook for any major change in your life. In essence I used it to “bury” my daughter’s identity and accept my son’s. It worked. I now use my son’s name and not my daughter’s. And quite frankly with the facial hair, binded chest, and male clothing, she looks male. But I hate the name. She knows that. I also use male pronouns and refer to her as “my son”. I admit as I say these things there is some distance between the words and my heart. My son is not the person I bonded with when he was little. I do not feel the same warmth towards my son’s name and as I do for my daughter’s.

My son is now in his mid 20s. He is in charge of his testosterone and whether or not he will get top surgery. If he chooses to, I will be there for him and take care of him. He is my child. I no longer deal with any trans issue. He is an adult and it is his responsibility. The gender of my child is not important to me now. I simply love him. And like all parents I am concerned that he be healthy, happy and have productive work that he loves. We do things together like gardening, caring for animals, walking, and manicures (he still gets black nail polish). There are perks to having a son. My daughter always had a strong upper body and would open all the paint jars in elementary school. Testosterone has made my son even stronger and so he carries all the heavy things for me. He looks tough and when we go out at night together I feel protected like no one will bother me. Gender is irrelevant in our relationship. I am much more interested in myself these days. I have my own life to live.