A Letter to My Son: From a Grieving Mother Who Still Loves Him Deeply

Dear Son,

I’m writing this letter with sincerity and love — not judgment. These words aren’t easy for me to say, but I want to share how I’m feeling about our family’s situation and why, right now, it’s so difficult for me to be around you. Please know that these feelings come from a place of deep sorrow — not rejection.

You’ve been going through something significant, and I can see how seriously you're embracing your identity. But I’m deeply concerned that you're navigating this path without the guidance of someone who will ask the hard, necessary questions — not just affirm what you feel in the moment. Just like with any serious medical or psychological issue, I believe in careful evaluation. If someone walked into a hospital saying they were having a heart attack, doctors wouldn’t rush them into surgery without tests. They would investigate, explore the causes, and make sure they understand the root cause of the problem and respond appropriately. You deserve that same kind of thoughtful care — but right now, you're unwilling to explore your feelings with that kind of openness.

I understand that you feel certain of who you are, and I respect your desire for self-understanding and meaning. But I’ve also noticed that how you’re presenting yourself seems to be making it harder for others to connect with you — whether it’s in finding a job, forming lasting relationships, or simply being taken seriously in public. You're in a relationship now with someone who accepts you as you are, but if that were to end, your dating pool could become very limited. These are not criticisms — they are concerns about how the choices you're making now could affect your long-term happiness and stability.

As your mother, I also want to share something deeply personal. As a woman, it is incredibly painful to see men adopt what they believe are “feminine” traits, clothing, or mannerisms and call that womanhood. To me, it feels like a caricature — like our lived experiences, our biology, our lifelong struggles are being reduced to a performance or aesthetic. I don’t say this to hurt you. I say it because my womanhood was not chosen — it has been lived, in body and soul — and when I see someone attempt to replicate it externally, it feels like a wound. Not just for me, but for all women — including your grandmother, aunts and sister.

There is something else I have struggled to explain. Being asked to use a new name and new pronouns feels like I’m being forced to say something I simply don’t believe is true. It’s like being expected to live in an Orwellian world, where I’m asked to deny what I see with my own eyes. Imagine if I came home one day and said, “I’m a toaster now. Please call me Breville and treat me like one.” You would know I’m not a toaster — and being expected to play along would feel surreal, maybe even sad. That’s how it feels to me. I am not mocking you — I’m trying to explain how painful it is to be asked to override my own perception of reality just to make others comfortable.

And finally, the most difficult truth to admit: when I see you dressed this way — in a bra and with fake breasts and very odd clothing — it hurts me so deeply that sometimes I have to pull away. It’s not because I’ve stopped loving you. It’s because I feel like I’m watching you slowly disappear into something that is harming you — something that could limit your future, isolate you, and leave you broken-hearted. That kind of pain is unbearable. Sometimes, being near you like this is too much, because it reminds me of how far we are from the path I believe would allow you to flourish.

Please hear this not as rejection, but as grief — deep, overwhelming grief and it is because I love you more than anything in this life. You are such a kind, loving, intelligent soul. Watching you achieve incredible success in a challenging engineering program filled me with pride for my darling boy. You had such a bright future ahead of you. I am grieving for the version of your life that could have been bigger, freer, and healthier.

I love you endlessly. I want you in my life — even when we don’t agree but watching my beloved son self-destruct is a pain I can no longer bear. It is breaking my heart.

With love always,

Mom