Before you start: I chose the picture of the sunset because it makes me feel happy and calm. I don't have any idea what picture might indicate "support" but I like this one. Ok, carry on. :)
Over the course of the last almost-three months, I have had to tell a lot of people about the changes in our family. Ok, maybe I haven't had to tell many of them, but C told us she didn't want her identity to be some big secret. So, we agreed fairly early on that, if the time presented itself, we would tell the people surrounding us. The more people she has who understand her journey, the more allies she has in her corner. It has gotten much easier, with time, and I was struck today by how easily it slips off my tongue now. The stunned reactions are no different, really, but my ability to explain and bring some levity to the conversations has improved. With only one exception, not even worth talking about, these conversations have gone amazingly well. But I was struck today by the fact that some of the most impactful support I have had, has come from men. Not to say my closest girl friends haven't provided amazing support. Rather, how lovely it is that some of the deepest care and concern has come from people I didn't expect to play a big role in this journey. The very first person I told was my boss. I was not able to focus on my job at all in those early days. I was researching, making appointments and barely keeping my shit together, to be frank, so my responsibilities at work were quickly falling by the wayside. I though he had a right to know why. I work at a church. My boss is a middle aged white priest, the epitome of the stereotypical privileged male. The person many would see as the most likely to judge. I knew he wouldn't judge our situation, my child's gender identity and our decisions to support her transition, but I did not expect how kind he would be about it. I could barely get the words out. Our conversation lasted no more than one minute as I struggled to explain without bursting into tears. He didn't push, he didn't comment -- he just listened. With tears in his eyes. Then he told me he supported us 100% and not to worry about work. Just like that. In the coming days he would pop his head in to my office and, with no more than a look, see if I was ok. Or he'd simply say, "How's your husband doing?" Never an outright question about the actual comings and goings. Just How are you. That meant so much to me. Just to know I was in a safe place with a boss who truly cared about the well being of our family. Early on, I sent an email to our pediatrician. A friend of my mother's, a trusted professional and an ally, I knew I could turn to him for advice. I was exceedingly aware of the fact that C's voice was on the cusp of breaking and facial and chest hair wouldn't be far behind. I need to figure out the path to hormone blockers and I had no idea where to start. Not only did he immediately respond by offering to make a referral and an appointment with the pediatric endocrinologist we eventually saw, but he offered his personal perspective. This part stood out as exceptional:
We've made many mistakes as parents to our 4 children and by and large I've lost no sleep over those
missteps. But the ONE thing I'm so glad we got right from the get-go was our immediate, positive, and
unconditionally accepting response to our son, Andrew, when he let us know he was gay--when I think of all
the (even unintentional ) ways such a situation could go wrong when they are feeling so vulnerable, I am so
happy that our parenting compass was well-calibrated at that particular moment.
Here, amidst the details of how the insurance would work and the contact information for various clinics, he buried this little nugget for me. "I have been there. I know how you're feeling. You're doing a good thing." Knowing that he was totally on board, as the medical doctor who has seen my kids for the last 10 years, but also as a friend and a parent who had faced similar issues was hugely reassuring for me. This amazing doctor has continued to be available to me at the drop of a hat and was the first to ask C what her preferred name was, make note of it in the file, and carry on as if nothing was unusual about that. He normalized what, until that point, had been anything but normal. In the first few days, as I lay awake every night, I ran through every possible scenario. I replayed scenes from C's childhood with a new lens. I reviewed the tiniest of details just trying to make sense of our new world. But I was spinning my wheels on the research. I didn't know what I didn't know and I was soooo overwhelmed by that. I thought of a friend, again, a male. I hadn't seen him in a few years but we kept up on facebook and I was very aware that he is an ally to the LGBTQ community. He is also a librarian. I reached out to him with a request for resources. Novels, research articles, support groups -- anything he could find. I expected him to be absolutely accepting. I did not expect that he was already a part of an online community for trans people and allies and that adding me to that group would change my life. Literally. The list of resources he sent were wonderful, and gave me an immediate way to focus my energy, but the facebook community he led me to helped me understand the issues facing trans people on a completely different level. I learned about gender dysphoria, hormones, "passing." I saw people at various different stages of transition supporting each other and sending love when others needed it most. I learned the difference between mtf (male-to-female) and amab (assigned male at birth), and why some prefer one to the other. I found out about "packing" for trans men and "tucking" for trans girls. But mostly, I learned that transition is so deeply personal. That there is no correct way to do it or timeline in which it needs to happen. And these people, this online community, welcomed me and cheered me on as a mum to a newly out trans kid. The introduction to this community remains the biggest, and in some ways, most meaningful support I have received.
I don't know why the reactions of these three men have had such a profound impact on me. But I have pondered their responses for weeks. I've turned them over and over in my head and thought about how differently each of them could have behaved. How different reactions could have led me down a different path or left me feeling deflated rather than buoyed. I have thanked each of them personally, and repeatedly, but I don't think any of them will ever understand how much they truly did to support me and my family on this wild and rocky road.