Ahhhh, hypocrisy. That noblest of traits wherein the holiest of thous holler at we wretches about our lifestyles, our choices, our politics, our love lives. They threaten, they bang their Bibles, they put forth their legislation, they condemn. WE are going to hell. Because THEY say so. Sanctimony, oh putrid sanctimony.
And then?
The breeze of schadenfreude, sweet schadenfreude sweeps in as another one bites the dust, caught with their pants around their ankles, their foot under a stall, their profile on Grindr, their TV show canceled for being a molester, their political pursuits round filed as their sexploits are revealed. The very same kinds of sexploits they profess to revile in others.
Today's recipients of the I-Have-Shit-For-A-Soul trophy are Timothy and Esten Ciboro. Let's get to know Esten, Tim's grown son, first, shall we? And what better way than to let him speak for himself. Or shout, actually. This would be Esten trolling a Target preaching to all and sundry about the evils of those spooky transgenders in the bathrooms. Little Esten did not reckon with coming face to face with one, though...
Yes, Esten and Tim are champions of the Lord (and Donald Trump - color me *shocked*). And I am just sure the Lord is so happy to have an aisle assassin like Timmy accosting people by the jog bras and polka dot dishes - teaching them the error of their ways. I mean surely Tim and Daddy are fine, upstanding citizens with nary a sin of their own, walking the straight and narrow path through this life, right? Right?
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
Turns out God's self anointed saints should have swept their own doorstep, or cellar, as this case turned out. And lest you think the road apple doesn't fall far from the horse's ass, Tim's Facebook page is a testament to religious fanaticism, James Dobson, biblical marriage, and the satanic properties of Monster energy drinks. Not kidding.
Tim, 53, and Esten, 27, now sit in jail cells in Toledo, charged with keeping Tim's 13 year old daughter shackled for nearly a year in the basement. Feeding her scraps and spoiled food, forcing her to use a bucket as a toilet.
Ahhhhhh, what a dynamic duo! Can I get an Amen! from the congregation (before you throw up)?
The girl managed to escape her prison about two weeks ago while Esten and Tim were out on a jog. Karen Loudermill, a janitor at the Toledo Port Authority, spotted the girl outside and brought her in the building. She then saw the marks on her ankles from the shackles. "I said you won't be in any trouble if you tell me the truth and that's when she told me about the shackles on her ankles for days when she wet the bed." As Karen and her coworker asked her more questions, including those about being touched inappropriately, it became clear very quickly that this poor girl was more than just a runaway.
The girl then told Karen that if her stepfather found out she wasn't home, she would be in more trouble. Loudermill called Timothy, who said "I'll call you back" and hung up the phone. That's when authorities were called.
Police arrested them early the next morning and charged them with kidnapping and child endangerment. According to reports, it appeared they were trying to flee when authorities arrived at the house. Both were pulling away in a van with two younger children, a dog and cat, a map and a gun.
Praise Jesus, they took their gun, too! Surely, that's in the Bible, Matthew, Snark, Puke, and Yawn, or something?
Sorry, but this kind of shit burns me up.
The skin sack gave an interview to a local Toledo news channel in which he professed his innocence, and of course, brought the big G into things.
"There are a lot of questions. I miss my babies with all my heart. I want them to do right. That's the way they were raised. If they have any questions, all they have to do is open the bible and they will have all the answers.”
Um, yeah, NO. If this is where Tim gets his answers, I shall continue to move through life without his preferred guidebook. If Tim's interpretations are the gold standard, I think I'll stick to things like Aesop's Fables and fairy tales and South Park for actual lessons in morals and behavior.
The reporter questioned him during the interview about why he wasn't asking, or talking about the 13 year old - he was only referring to the 9 and 10 year olds. THEN he brought her up and blamed her for her predicament. She "just didn't want to do things with us. She just didn't. I don't know why, I can't answer that
Oh, gee, Tim, no clue why?
All three children are now in foster care, out of the reach of his parenting techniques and profane form of piety. Esten and Timothy, these two sacks of hot garbage, face charges of endangering children by torture and cruel abuse and kidnapping to terrorize or to inflict serious harm. Oh, and poor Timmy whined to the reporter that he was in fear for his and Esten's lives in jail. Poor babies.
Sorry, Tim. Time to climb down off that cross, pile all that wood up, and climb on top so the justice system can "burn" you both at the stake. But then, asses to asses ashes to ashes, right? Right?
Wait, I know! You said all the answers are in the Bible! Here it is! Good ol' Matthew 5:38. "You have heard the law that says the punishment must match the injury: 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.'
Given what you put your daughter through, I'd say let the punishment replicate the crime. Shackles, dark, filthy basement, bucket, spoiled food, a year of abuse... Can I get another Amen from the congregation?
And people like him say my transgender son is the danger... Lord, give me strength.
The zoo. A place where one can go to see exotic and endangered species from all around the globe. Depending on your personal viewpoint, a zoo is either a place of safe haven and observance, or a prison for animals who have done nothing wrong. I, myself, see them as a bit of both.
Yes, they allow us a view on creatures great and small from all corners of the world. And the intent behind preserving a species that is endangered is noble. BUT, whether captured and penned, or bred in the facility, these animals are prisoners of the species that tends to ultimately ruin everything it touches.
Yes, I am down running we egomaniacal humans. We like to place ourselves far above other creatures simply because we cannot understand them. Because we drive cars, run marathons, own things, build things, destroy things to build newer things. And in bending other creatures to our will - we conveniently forget they are sentient beings. They feel, they think, they reason. They run, jump, hop, swim - just like us. Many do build things, own things. Just like us. They experience loss, grief, confusion, rage - just like us.
But because we can catch them, we feel we can do with them what we will. Cage them in concrete based "habitats", or make them jump and splash viewers, or swim with an endless chain of tourists in the Bahamas - with one goal: $$$$
Ye mighty dollar.
No matter how good intentioned is a zoological facility - the bottom line is the bottom line.
Now, all that being said, have I been to Sea World? Of course I have. Not for years and years, but yes, I once fell under the spell of watching those magnificent whales performing tricks. Have I been swimming with dolphins? Yes. Regrettably, I admit I have. And I will never do it again. The conditions are awful, the dolphins - such amazing, intelligent creatures - forced to pull stranger after stranger through the water for endless hours a day. I would not fault a dolphin who finally had his fill, going in for that photo op "kiss" and instead head butting the shit out of some beer gut from Boise. And yes, I have been to many zoos over the years.
As a parent with young children, the zoo represents, typically, a reasonably priced day out. The kids love to see the animals, and they get really worn out - the goal of any parent of young children, 24/7/365.
But in the run up to that worn out phase, small children have excessive energy and they do not like lingering, waiting, holding on. They like running, climbing, whining, chasing, DOING.
Which brings us to this past weekend's tragedy at the Cincinnati Zoo.
A holiday weekend, a crowded facility - families everywhere, children and ruckus aplenty. The kind of crowds that make any parent continually count their children. As Ron Burgundy would say, "You've got to keep your head on a swivel." Not just because someone might grab your child and take off, but because children are fast, cagey, curious little creatures who can/will wander off.
Enter the now infamous four year old who, according to witnesses, repeatedly told his mother he wanted to get into the water where the gorillas were - the moat surrounding their enclosure. Witnesses report her repeatedly telling him, "No, no you're not."
Well, guess again, Mom. While you were doing whatever it was you were doing that did not include watching your child, he fell into the gorilla habitat. (Witness after witness has come forward to state that Mom was face down in her phone, not paying ANY attention to the CHILDREN.)
OK, wait - back up - because this is where the comment sections begin to fill with apologists for the mother - defending her and reviling the zoo's obvious lack of security.
The gorilla habitat sits roughly 15 feet below the viewing area. There are rails, fences, bushes, and wires (electric fence above moat that he is seriously lucky he did no engage on his way down) in place to keep little adventurers out. So to "fall in" is a misnomer. Yes, that was the end result, but the child first had to be unsupervised for a decent period of time, and climb, push, crawl, and finagle his way to where he lost his balance and tumbled to the moat area below.
Apologists go on to cite the zoo's irresponsibility and laud the mother as some saint because she was "tending to another child" when it happened.
Awwww, really? "Tending to another child"? Tough bananas, people. That 4 year old is one of her children and definitely her responsibility. We are not talking being in Walmart and him disappearing behind a clothing rack in the blink of an eye. This child was left unsupervised. He could have been abducted. He could have completely wandered off to a different part of the zoo. Or he could have squeezed his way, around, under, through, and into the gorilla exhibit.
The little Indiana Jones went for the Holy Grail. The gorillas.
Of course, upon falling in, the crowd went wild, screaming, hollering, and of course filming.
Scary? Of course it is. There is a 4 year old child with a 400 pound silver back gorilla.
Terrifying? Of course it is. This is a wild animal. A powerful, wild animal. Yet in watching the video, one thing is pretty apparent - this gorilla was not raging at this child. If anything it appears curious, and bit protective.
Yes, I am quite certain the child was in shock, both from the fall and the impressive, intimidating force of a silver back dragging you like a ragdoll. But be clear - this child was not torn apart, bitten, or broken by this creature. In fact, this child's injuries were from the fall and he is already back at home and doing fine.
So, why was the gorilla killed? Why not tranquilized?
Well, internet-commenters-who-cannot-be-bothered-to-actually-read-a-full-news-article, tranquilizers do not hit and immediately render a beast unconscious. In point of fact, getting darted can wildly aggravate an animal of this size before the chemicals get traveling through its bloodstream. And in that time, a truly agitated gorilla could take it out on his new toy.
So, the response team at the zoo made the decision to kill the animal to save the child.
And yea, tho didist ye internet erupteth.
Yes, this is incredibly tragic - for the gorilla. He did nothing wrong. In fact, one could argue that he did some things pretty damned right given the circumstances. The comments I have read further reinforce the fact that we, as a species, are horrible. The lack of concern for the life that was taken "because it's just an animal" is a further nod to our ego, our arrogance, our certitude that we matter most.
But flinging your poo at the zoo is the wrong target. (Their barricades were in place, unbreached, for almost 40 years, they made the sacrifice of the gorilla.) And defending this parent as being completely innocent is pathetic. HER negligence allowed HER child to not only wander off, but wrangle his way through barrierS and into the habitat. HER lack of supervision of HER small child resulted in a magnificent animal being murdered. (Again, plenty of witnesses are coming forward stating she was not paying attention to anything but her cell phone.)
That is where the blame goes, that is where the fault lies.
Again, I get it - small children are like having your own little cadre of monkeys. I have lived it. But I can also tell you, I traveled alone with three children under the age of 6. I shopped alone with three small, inquisitive, sometimes bored children. I took them to the zoo, alone. And at no point did I lose sight of any of them. If anything, I was hyper-vigilant. Almost paranoid. Constant head on a swivel. Little hands in mine, and little ass strapped in a stroller. When Culley was 15 months old and intent on walking everywhere, we traveled to Boston. I was 7 months pregnant. So I bought a child leash. It connected her from my wrist to her wrist - she had enough freedom to toddle, and I had a child I could not lose.
A child leash - not a dog leash strapped around her neck. Somehow that concept is lost on many a commenter who castigate those of us who "treat our children like animals." Sorry, childless, inexperienced Internet Judge Judy - you lose. Keeping a small child safe, secure, supervised is the name of the game.
I think what has infuriated me the most in reading so many comment threads are the people encouraging this mother to sue the zoo. That it is somehow their fault she did not watch her child. Sorry, but this lady should be on the hook for the zoo having to put down a gorilla to save her little Mowgli.
Am I being judgy? You are damned right, I am. This is no different than parents who forget a child in the backseat, cook them to death, and then expect nothing but sympathy. Where is your %^&**^$ head?
WATCH. YOUR. CHILDREN.
AT. ALL. TIMES.
It is that simple. And if you cannot or will not, then stay home. You are the threat - to your children, the public, and depending on where you take them - you are the one further endangering a species.
This past weekend was a big one for my family. Saturday was a day we had worked towards for a very long time. The day when our child revealed to his friends that he is transgender via his brilliant video on Facebook, and I revealed to my friends and the DGMS global audience that our family is not just allied with the LGBTQIA community, but proudly a part of the neighborhood.
Yes, Carson - now Toby Carson - is transgender.
Since his posting of his video, the support shown on his wall has been heartwarming. Not just from those he was reasonably certain would be on board, but from those who truly surprised him by stepping up with their hearts, and leading with love.
On the whole, I have experienced the same both on FB and in the comments at DGMS following my posting of my Full Disclosure piece Saturday night. Surprise from many? Sure. Of course there is surprise when someone steps forward with a big reveal. But the overwhelming sentiment has been love, support, awe of Toby's bravery, and appreciation for how our family has never blinked, never stopped embracing him.
As Toby received unexpected personal texts of love and support from people he had firmly expected to lose, tears fell, fast and hard. It was during one of those sob sessions that we discussed cognitive dissonance and how that was perhaps the best gift he was giving people, and the one I hoped to be giving some of my readers and friends as well.
A moment when what they thought they knew, felt, believed, collided head first with the reality of actually knowing a transgender person. The reality that they had known a transgender person for years. And in that moment, all they thought they knew, felt, or believed collapsed under the weight of one thing: love.
Love, because they realized Toby had been none of what the media tries to portray him as. Love, because they remembered every moment they had shared as Toby's friend; the privilege of being in Toby's orbit, and how incredible that experience has been. Love, because they read my mother's perspective and finally got it. What a parent is supposed to represent to their child - a harbor, not a horror.
The show of support has left us with a wonderful hangover of sorts. :)
Yes, there have been some less than kind emails. I expected that. Some people simply cannot help themselves from believing they hold a position on some supreme moral court in society and are somehow duty bound to tell the rest of us we are wrong/guilty/condemned.
To them I have asked, Is it possible, just possible, that me - having been with this individual nearly every single day for almost 20 years - might just know my child better than they, who are working from a set of preconceived, bigoted, religiously warped marching orders? That they may just be wrong?
I tried to break it down as basic as possible for one particularly ugly individual: I would rather have a live, happy son, than a dead daughter.
Not surprisingly, when faced with the fact that I was not going to devolve with them into some email cage match, they have not responded. None of them. Whatever. As I said when I wrote about this, your understanding, empathy, or ability to "get" this is not required.
There is not something wrong or condemnation worthy about my son. He remains what he has always been - the most amazing human being I have ever had the privilege of knowing.
I would encourage every parent to truly think about what I wrote, what I described in the moments when he confided his inner truth to me, and the year that has followed. Think about it. Think about the environment you are raising your children in. Because someone reading this will be in my same position at some point.
Build love. Build acceptance. Build a dam against a world bent on hurting those not like the herd. Be their harbor, not their horror.
Because this is what you signed up for when you created or adopted another life. All of it. The good, the bad, the unexpected.
As for us, we have completed phase one of the plan we set into motion a year ago. Toby has left UTD and will be living at Gateway. We arrived yesterday and as I walked the property this morning, I was reminded yet again how perfect this place is. The peace, the beauty, the scope - the mountains and canyons that don't care about Donald Trump or Game of Thrones or the fact that my child is transgender. They have seen it all, will continue to see it all. And they will stand tall, outlasting the very last hater.
I shall take my cue from those magnificent mesas, palisades, and outcroppings - I, too, am standing tall, ready to outlast the haters in defense of my child, in the pursuit of opening eyes and hearts - for as long as I have air in my lungs.
No secrets. No hiding. No shame. I am a proudly transparent trans parent.
The intro to this post is a piece I wrote a little less than a year ago. I ask you indulge me and read it through as it leads into our lives today. ~ Linda
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For years I have written pieces in support of equality for all, regardless of their place on the gender spectrum. That no one's sexuality should be the determining factor in one's ability to participate fully in "in liberty and justice for all" in this country of ours. That if two people are in love, who is to tell them they cannot be?
But lately, as the national conversations surrounding the letters LGBT, marriage equality, and same sex adoption have ratcheted up, I find myself thinking more and more about the young people who will truly be affected in the years to come.
Will they come out into a land where they ARE viewed as equal? Will they freely walk an aisle to their same sex mate in every state, with that marriage being recognized in every state? Will a trans child grow into an society that insures the suicide attempt rate continues to fall?
For these young people, some so young right now that they are not yet aware that they are these young people, their parents are the ground zero in their first step.
Or rather their parents should be.
Which brings me to the question. To all of you who are parents, and to all of you who aspire to someday be granted the privilege: What kind of parent are you? What kind of parent will you be?
If your kneejerk response is, "Well, no child of mine will ever dare be gay/lesbian/trans!" then you immediately fail this test because you do not understand this is beyond your control and has absolutely zero to do with you.
I don't care how much religion in which you steep your child; how much vocalized bigotry you espouse under your roof; how much fear you may try to bring to bear - if your child falls somewhere on the spectrum besides hetero, THEY JUST DO.
So, when that day comes - and it will come to many of you - what will you do?
As your child stands in front of you, on the precipice of an emotional cliff with no safety net, bravely attempting to share their essential truth with you, will you be their hope and harness? Or will you be their horror?
Will your ego, your religion, your upbringing, your preconceived notions push your child off that cliff?
Again, it's an honest question because none of us becomes a parent knowing who our children are. Yes, we can raise them, get to know their personalities, their likes, dislikes, talents, and tantrums. We can groom them - influencing taste buds, expanding musical horizons, instructing them in a chosen faith - but we do not get to choose who they are. We do not get to choose their hair color, eye color, which hand they write with, if they are artistic, musical, athletic. Why would we deign to think we get to choose their heart, their mind, their soul, their inner being?
So what kind of parent will you be?
Will you reach out and immediately embrace your child or recoil? Will you be caught up in your own thoughts of how this affects you? Will you admit your ignorance, but vow to educate yourself, or will you wallow in your arrogance? Will you choose the love you have had for your child through the years, or retreat to a hate you have always nurtured towards "those people"?
And keep in mind, you will only get one shot to get your response right - the moment the words are hanging fearfully in the air between your child's mouth and your ears. How you respond is what they will feel and remember forever. Sure, they may allow you some rope, and you may come around, but your initial response will leave a mark. Because you will have inflicted a memory, and those are wounds that stay.
If you find yourself in that moment, what should you feel? Flattered, appreciated, important, vital, and fearful.
Flattered - that your child is doing the hardest thing a child can do - open up. No matter how great is your relationship with your child, they will still be afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid of disappointing you.
Appreciation - that your child is standing in front of you baring their soul.
Important - yes, important because you are being trusted more than ever in that moment.
Vital - because your child is where they should be, in front of you. This moment is what every moment, day, week, month, and year before should have been shaping you as - their safe place.
And finally, fearful - yes, you should be afraid. This society is making strides, but there are still swaths of people - large swaths - who derive some backass sense of superiority by virtue of their hetero-ness. Which is just as lame as those who derive some idiotic superiority over having been born white. And they take pleasure in hurting those unlike themselves.
I can promise you that your child will be fearful. Again, no matter how strong you consider your relationship with them to be, by the time they stand in front of you, they have a back up plan formulated. And probably not just one. Probably several back-up plans, friends to run to, other parents they trust, couches they may sleep on, where they will go.
When they stand in front of you, all they want, all they are desperately hoping to find, is the love that kept them alive as a baby, nurtured them as a toddler, supported them as a young child. To find that love still standing strong, ready to be their harbor from the storms, to be their strength as they move forward, to be the one love they can fall asleep certain will never leave them stranded.
The streets are littered with homeless LGBT teens. Young people disowned, kicked out, cut off, cast aside like so much trash. Young people whose greatest sin was to articulate who they are. Young people who found horror, not hope. Condemnation, not calm.
Ask yourself. Now. And continue to ask yourself as your children grow.
What kind of parent will you be? For your child's sake, I hope it's the kind that they - and every single child out there - deserve.
You may now ask yourself, Who does she think she is to be sounding so judgmental? To be making assumptions about my parenting? To be speaking so plainly about something of which she has no real world knowledge?
Fair questions, all.
I will tell you who I am. I am Linda Sharp. Proud mother of a transgender human being.
Yes, for the all years I have been an advocate, writing piece after piece against discrimination, ignorance, bigotry, and bias, one year ago I found my advocacy to not just be on my doorstep, but the very fabric of my being. The filter through which I take every single breath. The glass through which I now view the world.
And let me tell you now, advocacy is easy. This is something else.
It is no secret to those who have been a part of this blogmunity for years that I have, to an extent, gone underground the past year. Posts have been few, what posts there have been have been serious. It is not that I have lost interest in writing; it is not that the world has offered no grist for my mental mill. Far to the contrary.
It is simply that my real life has taken complete precedence. I have been learning. I have been growing. I have been scared. I have lost sleep. I have had dark nights of the soul, and moments too pure to capture in words. I have carried my family forward. I have been planning. I have been fighting for my child.
Actually, WE have been doing all these things.
We - Rudy. A father who did not blink when told his child was transgender. A father whose only reply was, "Happy and alive. That's all I need."
We - Culley and Kendall. Siblings who did not blink when told their sibling is transgender. Their only reply has been to close the protective ranks even tighter and offer support, love, and their own longstanding brand of humor.
We - Kim, my sister. My safe place in this world. The person I turned to and who did not turn away, did not blink. All I received was love, acceptance, and unwavering commitment to my child.
We - My parents, who I spent a year fearing we would lose to this revelation; who stepped up in a way I never could have imagined. They love their grandchild NO MATTER WHAT, and I have never been so happy to be wrong about something in my life.
We - Rudy's parents, beautiful souls who could not care less - their only concern that Carson is happy and whole.
We - Friends. The circle is small, as the protection and privacy and safety of our child has been paramount the past year. But those who have been brought into the fold have offered nothing but unending love, support, and the most beautiful words we have heard along this journey: "Carson is just Carson."
Perhaps that is the biggest lesson so far. The one I wish to teach to the world. Carson IS just Carson. Nothing about this transition will change WHO C is at heart. The spirit, the empathy, the compassion, the artistry, the athleticism, the friendship, the will, the humor, the love - none of that changes. Yes, as we progress, the packaging will morph, there may be a name change or name addition in the offing, but the person?
Carson is just Carson.
As a parent, I will now tell you how it came to pass, how Carson told me, because this is important.
Life began to change in a Target.
A year ago, while passing the baby clothes, we were talking (again) about how Carson and Kendall do not want to make babies. No big - I know this, and I am not owed grandchildren. I jokingly said, "Well, come on, when Culley has kids you will make a great Aunt."
What came back was almost a whisper. "Or Uncle."
In that moment, I knew, I could see, that if I said one more word, a dam would break and Target was not the place Carson wanted a breakdown, or this conversation.
We came home, sat on the couch, and I was honored to watch someone be brave. Truly brave.
This is important, because my children have grown up watching me, listening to me, reading me. They know where I stand on equality, humanity, my heart. But Carson was scared. Even having grown up in this incredible family Rudy and I have built. Even knowing how I have been a vocal LGBT advocate all his life, writing article after article decrying ignorance, bigotry, hatred. Even knowing how many of my friends are respected advocates on the international stage. Even knowing all that, Carson was petrified. Because there is knowing and there is KNOWING. Ask yourself right now - what kind of environment am I fostering? If Linda's child could be scared in such an open, accepting home, what have I been building around my child?
When Carson sat in front of me, all he wanted, all he was desperately hoping to find, was the love that kept him alive as a baby, nurtured him as a toddler, supported him as a young child. To find that love still standing strong, ready to be his harbor from the storms, to be his strength as he moves forward, to be the one love he can fall asleep certain will never leave him stranded.
I promise you that is what he found. I did not blink. I did not falter. I did not hesitate.
In that moment, as C struggled to wrap his lips around the words, I saw courage like I have never seen in my life. And I felt blessed, honored, STRONG. I saw a person baring their soul to me with their essential truth, what Carson has known for a long time, but has struggled to define. And in that moment, everything made sense. Everything I have always known about that child. Every quirk, every action, every bit of androgyny of the past five years. In that moment, I knew the truth, too.
We have a son.
My response? To hold my child close and say, "OK, what do we need to do?"
And so began our journey. And the love I thought could get no bigger, has.
What I will tell you now is simple – transgender people are PEOPLE. PEOPLE for whom their outside simply does not match their inside. And there have been transgender humans since there have been humans. Just as there have been homosexuals, bisexuals, pansexuals, asexuals, and every other place on the human spectrum. This is not something new. This is not some fad to be blamed on Caitlyn Jenner, who, by the way, is also a real human being, finally being who SHE has always known herself to be.
Transgender people are not perverts or pedophiles or monsters. Carson is NOT a pervert, pedophile, or monster. And every heinous law being passed in this country against them is intensely personal because, as I said above, what was once simply advocacy, is now the very fabric of my life.
Life.
The past year since Carson told me, I have been doing the hardest parenting of my life. I have slept little. I worry a lot. The suicide attempt rate of transgender individuals is 41%. Let that sink in. 41%. That is the filter through which I take every single breath. 41%. Because society is fucked. Because religious zealots and bigots populate our legislatures and pass laws caring not who they target or hurt or demean. Because there are many parents who do not deserve the title who cast their child out, condemn them, try to beat it out of them.
There is nothing to beat out. That would be as worthless as me trying to beat “straight” out of you. You wake up each morning knowing who you are. You just do. The same way gay people just do. The same way transgender people just do.
41% suicide attempt rate. My child is strong, and has an incredible support system, but the stories are many - kids like Carson, who have parents like us, who have done all the right things, taken all the steps necessary, provided all the support and love possible, still end up burying a child who somehow still saw suicide as the better option to living in a society that condemns them at every turn. Sleepless nights. Many.
But Carson has been in constant therapy for a year now. We have been in therapy with him. Carson is doing well. Actually, Carson is doing GREAT. We are all doing GREAT. It is rather incredible what love, consistency, and the assurance of those surrounding you can do for a human being.
For those who may now be going, Ah ha, this is why Carson quit soccer - No.
A terribly abusive coach finally pushed Carson to the point where he had enough and drew his line in the sand. And you should know, when Carson, the player everyone looked up to, the player who provided the most leadership, the most skill, the most game awareness, the most potential; the player who played every game, quit, seven people quickly found the courage to follow, including two roommates who not only quit the team, but left the school at Christmas. That is how bad it was. And that number looks to continue to keep growing. And Rudy and I have never been prouder of Carson for finally standing up and saying ENOUGH.
Again, transitioning had nothing to do with Carson quitting. But it has made it possible to implement our plans, and possible for Carson to stop living a lie and move towards finally, fully living his truth. Yes, his. That pronoun, those three little letters, are incredibly important. You may not realize it in your daily life, but your pronoun defines a large piece of who you are. And being able to move forward to a place where we can finally begin using HIM, HIS, HE is amazing.
It is a step. A step on what we know is a very long road ahead of us. As I have written - just last week, in fact - transitioning is slow, deliberate, as it should be. This is not haphazard, capricious, without care. There is consideration at every step, and doctors assembled and working together as a team.
But I tell you now, as big, as important, as life changing, life affirming as this unexpected road on the life map of Sharps may be - it does not define us. It does not define Carson.
We live. We love. We laugh. Being transgender is not terminal cancer or a malignant tumor. But even if it were, we would still live, love, and laugh each day. Because we are human beings, because Carson is a human being. And human beings are not ONE thing. We are like diamonds - multifaceted, unique, flaws here and there, but shining bright regardless.
And yes, you bet your ass this family has laughed a lot the past year. Cried? Sure. We have been figuring things out, supporting one of our own through dark days, through highs and lows. Of course we have shed tears. Finding out your child has been carrying a weight so heavy for years, alone, is devastating. But we have laughed. We are alive. We make bad jokes. We conjecture. We tease. We falter, we flail, we catch each other, and we laugh a little more.
We have a plan, and are beginning to implement it. As the weeks and months roll on, I will write more and more, advocating and sharing each step - that those who know and love my family may stay abreast, that those who don't understand may educate yourselves, and that those who are walking this path with their own child, or alone, may find their way here and know there is no shame, no hiding, just love and support and honesty.
Because it is not just our child in transition, it is our entire family, it is every friend who has committed to the journey with us. Because we will all change, become more for supporting another in becoming whole. Because life is short and we choose to live and love as hard as possible with each breath we are privileged to take.
To those who have silently been with us this past year - your friendship and support have meant more than any of us can possibly convey. I ask that you help us as we move forward, helping others understand if you can, and just continuing to love our child as you have always loved our child. I also ask that you now step out of the shadows and into the comments, both here and FB, as your words of support will mean the world to Carson and demonstrate to others that love is love is love. (I will moderate the comments, and post them as they come through.) Also, that your visual display may embolden others to join us. If you are a friend, but are only learning now, please know it is not meant as a slight. Timing and opportunity have played a large part in those who have been granted "early access."
To those reading this who may have a violent and ugly reaction? Save it. Move on. I know the world is filled with horrible people who take glee in hiding behind their keyboards and shitting their judgment and ignorance on others. I know your type - you have made my inbox your personal toilet over the years as your inability to discuss any topic as an adult is shown in your emails. You are not needed, you do not matter. Your approval, understanding, empathy, or ability to "get" it are not necessary, but neither is your ugliness. I daresay every one of us could be ripped to shreds over things that set us apart from the herd. So as my mother always says, Sweep your own doorstep.
As for me? I am stronger now than I have ever been. My marriage is healthier than ever, closer even, despite the miles that still separate us. I love my children unconditionally, without reserve, without hesitation. And they have never been more certain of this in their lives. They have truly seen where the rubber meets the road in their parents' actions. Like Rudy, my requirements are simple, my requirements are two: Happy and Alive. They are. We are.
So there it is. Our lives that I have always shared here so openly; our childrens' lives you have embraced with affection and encouragement as you have watched them grow; now the full disclosure of our continuing path. I welcome you to take our hands and walk the miles ahead with us. Where we are going may be uncharted, but we know one thing for certain - we go there with love. Together.
And now, it is my incredible honor, as this child's mother, to introduce my SON, Toby Carson, to the world. Onward...
And, as only my son can do it - his coming out video he shared on FB this morning. Enjoy. And please share if you know someone you think this may touch/help/inspire.
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