Kills Me Every Time
Years ago, I was sick with a serious disease. Let’s call it cancer. People were uniformly kind in their concern but their attempts to say just the right thing could be misguided and sometimes downright comical. Some folks got it right—a look in the eye, a squeeze of the hand, an “I’m sending good thoughts your way”. That’s really what I needed. But others got it terribly wrong. Among those were stories of their friends or family members who had the same cancer as me and died or their description of the litany of horrible side-effects I could expect from chemo or, my favorite, “You’re going to need a miracle to beat this”. Really? Because I was kind of hoping that modern medicine would cure me. And, thankfully, it did. So now I can look back and laugh, especially since I know they did mean well.
Today I find myself a member of another sad community—parents of trans-identified kids. Mine is 23. A daughter. On Testosterone for four years. Now I have to contend with another collection of people’s reactions to (what I consider) a very unhappy turn of events. The comments run the gamut from the ridiculous to the sublime. A sampling:
Would you mind if she was gay?
Me: Do you mean am I a homophobic bigot? Well, no. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind at all if she was a lesbian. I hear they are a disappearing breed. I honestly don’t care how she presents herself to the world or who she sleeps with as long as she doesn’t have to commit to lifelong medication with debilitating consequences to do so. But thanks for asking!
She signed an informed consent, right? So, she knew what she was getting into?
Me: You’d think so, but not really. She signed the informed consent when she was at university. She was 19 years old, in the throes of depression and anxiety and caught up in this social contagion. I don’t think she was in the right state of mind to get out of bed, let alone understand and agree to all that transitioning entails. What 19-year-old, in the best of mental health, can comprehend lifelong medication, possibly resulting in a hysterectomy and infertility? Did she really understand the dental complications? Or the baldness? Who thinks this is possible for a teenager?
You’re not going to believe this, but my neighbor’s cousin’s daughter just came out as trans!
Me: Yes. Yes, I am going to believe it. I told you it was a social contagion. Clearly, you didn’t believe me.
So, like Caitlyn Jenner?
Me: Nope. Not at all like Caitlin Jenner. Who was a mature adult when she made this decision. I wish her all the best.
How is [insert trans name] doing?
Me: Take a deep breath, smile and reply “Fine, thank you for asking”. But inside I’m thinking “If your kid was anorexic, I would not ask if they had achieved their target weight yet. But you know nothing about this topic other than what you read in the mainstream media, so I’ll let it slide”.
How is [daughter by her birth name] doing? She must have graduated by now, right?
Clearly this person has no idea what is going on and I envy their innocence on the topic. Not wanting to introduce tragedy to a friendly exchange I give my standard elevator pitch. “She left college and is taking some time off to ‘discover herself’. You know how kids can be”. They usually respond with a chuckle and an “Oh, do I!” and we go our separate ways.
But the worst, by far the hardest, reaction to deal with is when they say nothing. When they don’t ask about her by any name but ask about every other member of the family. Because then, I know they know. And they know that I know they know. And they feel terribly for my family and don’t know what to say. Then it feels like she really is gone. Like I never had a daughter. Like she didn’t exist. Like she’s dead. And that kills me every time.
Your essay resonates with the suppressed scream I walk around with every day. My son also signed "informed consent" at evil Planned Parenthood during his freshman year at college. I struggle not to lose my reality of my lived experience of raising my son. You have a daughter. I have a son. Even if our children have lost their way about the difference between fantasy and reality, us parents need to hold onto reality. And I hold onto my thimble of hope. Too many confused, vulnerable children and young adults are being preyed upon by a truly malavelent zietgeist and financial greed.
I’ve been reading posts like this for years and I’ve felt the same pain. I feel as though I’ve lost my child, but instead of mourning them, I have to live with a stranger and hope that some day my child will come back to our family.
But when, instead of just sharing our pain, do we act? As a teacher and a parent of a trans child, I can’t escape this nightmare of affirmation without questioning - I’ve never experienced any medical condition, or heard of any illness, where encouraging someone to get a second opinion is not only discouraged, but considered an act of hate.
When, and how, can we take action that is respectful and fact- driven? What organizations are doing this work and what can we all do to embrace the challenge of fighting back against our children maiming themselves and destroying their ability to bring children into this world? Everyone has a day, week, or month of pride and celebration for their identities - is there a day to raise awareness of detransitioners or a national organization that can support families of trans kids who are ready to act to draw attention to children who are caught up in an inappropriate medical diagnosis that will impact the test of their lives? I am not transphobic - I do not fear trans individuals or hate them - I feel sorry for the path they have chosen and would like to find a way to help them get back to who they were before they got sucked into believing they were “in the wrong body” and in need of a new identity.