Transparent Trans Parent

Being A Transparent Trans Parent

In the just over seven years since my family stepped into the light and publicly came out with our transgender son, Toby, I have received countless messages, emails, and comments.  The support has been as positive as it has been overwhelming - friends standing by our side, relatives diving in to learn as much as fast as they can, and strangers who have found their way here, or my private inbox, and have reached out to share their own journeys with their child. 

As I communicate with these strangers who have quickly become friends, we compare notes, if you will, about the responses they received when they stepped forward with their child.  Two themes are constant - we have all heard some form of the refrains, "He/she is so lucky to have wonderful parents like you!" and "You are so brave!"

Make no mistake, I, as do these other parents, fully understand the intent - it is meant to be supportive, loving, kind.  It is meant sincerely.  And I promise, we do hear it that way.  But what strikes at our hearts as well is that underneath the words lies a subtlety that whispers, that intimates - society just expects parents of transgender children to shun them.

Transgender people are the "new" lepers in the colony even though they have been here all along.

Now, obviously the majority of people I have heard from, who have a transgender child, have been 100% supportive and protective of said child, and like me, there was never even a thought, a moment, a millisecond in which we wavered in our love.  So to us, we are not doing something laudable, something groundbreaking, something brave.  We are simply continuing that which we have done since we welcomed these children into our lives - parenting.

Sure, I allow that coming out at this level is a bit different and can be construed as some sort of bravery - being this public with Toby requires that we all are strong enough, willing enough to withstand the slings and arrows of the lesser brains and hearts in society, but trumpeting my love and support for my child is not an act of bravery - no more than trumpeting it has been the past 26 years.  I made him, I love him, I am proud of him.

The undercurrent that loving our child is some act deserving of knighthood or even note, stymies me.  The vast majority of parents in this world - whether by birth, adoption, or guardianship - say a silent version of the wedding vows when that child is welcomed into their lives.  We promise from this day forward, to have and to hold, to love, honor, protect (obey?  I think not - hell, that was not even in my wedding vows), in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death do us part.

And the vast majority are able to uphold those vows - through tears, sniffles, heartbreaks, broken bones, even the scares and threats of cancer, tumors, disease.

Which is where my stymied part kicks in.  If you would no more blink when your child told you they have cancer or asthma, then why would you when told they are transgender, or anywhere outside the societally entrenched binary?  Gender dysphoria is not a mental illness, not a made-up-for-effect decision, not a conscious affectation.  It is real, it is treatable, it is medically approached.  Just like cancer.

Parents who shun, condemn, disown their transgender child are, in my opinion, failures.  Abject failures of the greatest magnitude.  Having a child in your life is a gift.  They are not property.  They are not blobs to be bent to your will.  They are not here to bring YOU accolades.  And if you shun them because what you feel is embarrassment; because you immediately worry about "What will the Johnsons say?"; or "Our church will kick us out!"?

You fail.

Here is the biggest thing I can tell you about being a trans parent - this is not about me.  This is about making my son whole.  Healthy.  Able to leave misery behind and continue chasing life with the gusto, zest, and zeal which have always been his hallmarks.  My job is to help, to learn, to love.  To champion, to protect, to propel.

Just as it has always been.

There have been many who have offered their derision but of course, will pray for us.  Those who don't believe in it, but wish us well.  And those who don't support the lifestyle, but still love us.  Darkness all.  That's ok - when we have their darkness to contrast our lives against?  We shine so bright it is blinding.

Here is where their offerings sit with me:  keep your prayers.  We don't need them.  The "prayers" you offer are full of condescension, pity.  If anything pray that your heart and mind receive a divine monkey wrench and are cracked open so that you may realize you do have the capacity to start learning.  

To those who don't believe in it?  Again, would you tell your child you don't believe in cancer?  No, you would not.  You would dive in, get doctors, and make yourself an expert as fast as you could so you could be their champion, their advocate.  Learn this now:  Just because you don't know about , or understand, something, doesn't make it NOT real. 

As for the "lifestyle"?  Hate to break it to you, but being LGBTQIA is not a lifestyle choice.  It is how a person wakes up.  Being a judgmental, willfully ignorant a-hole?  TOTAL lifestyle choice. 

Toby is, as is any transgender person, the same person he was before beginning to transition.  Toby has been on testosterone for six years now - he has not sprouted horns, grown wings, changed eye color, or changed personalities.  He does not speak in tongues, his head does not spin on its axis.  What has changed?  Well, his voice has deepened.  A few more pimples have popped up, whickers. too.  And his appetite is truly that of a teenage boy - but HE is the same person.  Funny, talented, kind, smart, loves soccer, Disney cruises, sushi, loves his cats, his dog, his family, his friends.  

SAME PERSON I vowed to love and protect almost 27 years ago.

So please know, while the admiration, kudos, and virtual high-fives are nice, we - all of us trans parents who stand with our children - are simply doing what comes naturally.  Loving our child for better or for worse.  

And for the record?  This is NOT worse.  With each passing day, life only gets BETTER.

We Only Fail When We Do Not Try

That title above, those words, met my ears only one minute ago while watching another episode of Call The Midwife on Netflix.  And in those seven words, I found my way here to type what has been tangled in my brain for a while now.  

There is so much not trying in this country.  

Not trying to understand.  Not trying to help.  Not trying to improve.  Not trying to protect.  Not trying to see through our notions, both preconceived and fully born.  Not trying to stay informed.

And in all of that not trying, we are succeeding at one thing in spectacular fashion - we are failing each other.

While road tripping with my mother for ten days earlier this month, we had mile after mile to converse, laugh, listen to the oldies, reminisce about my father, daydream about upcoming festivities, and of course, speak on current events.  I say of course because, well, me.  If you are trapped in a car with me for thousands of miles and think the world and its turning won't come up, you have not been paying attention.

Information is power.  Like gas, electric, solar, or wind, knowledge is a force all its own.  It moves us along as a society, discovering medical progress, deciphering illness and disease, creating the latest technological leaps forwards, connecting us.  As individuals, information is how we stay vital, capable, whole. 

But it is in the absence of information, the turning away from news and events, the dereliction of duty, as it were, in terms of knowing, that damage is easily wrought.  It is how vile, corrupt people make their way into positions of power.  How targets are easily placed on entire groups of people.  How rights are eroded, threatened, stripped away.  It is how people are harmed, how people die.

It was after one too many replies of "I didn't know that" from my mother that I found myself pounding the steering wheel in frustration.  "You're a smart woman!  You need to know these things! You need to pay attention!"

That outburst came as we were discussing the tsunami of legislation playing out in state after state against bodily autonomy, against voting rights, against the LGBTQIA, against her grandson.

Especially against her grandson.  

And there was just so much she did not know because she simply has not been paying any attention.  She loves her grandson without condition, but in this regard she has been failing.  It has made me keep wondering how many others are failing, too?

I know the news is rife with heartache and disappointment and traumas and bloodshed.  And in that, I know there is every reason to want to just shut it all out, to look away, to not pay attention, to not try to stay informed.  But it is in the turning away, in the not knowing, that you may well be failing.

Failing at citizenship when you consider yourself patriotic.  Failing at support, when you consider yourself a giver.  Failing at advocacy, when you consider yourself an ally.

I am here begging you to turn back around.

Something does not have to personally affect you in order that you should care.  I offer up the letter T on the beautiful LGBTQIA spectrum for your consideration.

My son is transgender.  And while he is miles down the road of his transition, his well being, his safety, his rights as a citizen are being threatened daily across this country.  You should know that.  And if you are the ally you believe yourself to be, you should care, you should be paying attention, you should be galvanized.

I have often wondered, since I sat at this keyboard 6 years ago and wrote the words that let the world into our family's story about his transition, how sharing his story, our story, may have helped change or color your perception of the word transgender.  What had you thought it meant?  What was your reaction to seeing the word, hearing it out loud?  Had you ever thought about it at all?  

I do not ask that with judgment, but with sincerity.  Did finally "knowing" someone alter what you thought you thought?

I ask because at the time Caitlyn Jenner's story had been playing out in the media for roughly a year, so it was not a foreign word or concept.  And while Caitlyn has proved a poor advocate for the very community to which she belongs, her transition did push the dialogue forward.  (That she is now willingly being used as a spokesperson pawn on FOX simply speaks to the wealth and celebrity which shield her from any of the real world pain, fears, and traumas of a non-famous transgender person.)

Toby's transition is not unique.  Therapy, HRT, surgery.  What is unique is the fact that he came out to a family that did not blink, only moved closer towards him, forward with him.  So many young people are not so fortunate.  But we could no more stop loving him than we could stop breathing.  He is part of how we breath, as are his siblings.  Toby, as a human being, is not unique.  He laughs, cries, breathes, eats, watches bad TV, goes grocery shopping, has pets, friends, hobbies, and loves just as anyone else.  What is unique is that he has to navigate a minefield.  Because all those normal things we take for granted?  He is ever mindful that there are not only citizens out to harm him, but people in power who would see him "beaten up" - looking at you, Marjorie Taylor-Greene - or believe "it's creepy" - fuck off, Ron Johnson.  

That politicians have gotten so brazen at the microphones as they play to their bigot bases speaks to the ease with which legislation is being passed and signed into law against the transgender community.  I know there are millions upon millions of people who believe themselves to be allies in this country, but millions upon millions are not making their voices heard for those they swear to advocate for.

And it is in that not trying that we are failing.

Texas has passed legislation criminalizing parents who help their transgender children with medical support.  And let me be clear here - NO CHILD IS RECEIVING SURGERY.  IT IS A MADE UP SACK OF LIES PEDDLED BY THE GOP TO PEOPLE WHO DON'T CARE TO KNOW BETTER, TO KNOW FACTS.  Do children receive puberty blockers?  Yes.  In coordination with doctors and therapists who help guide caring parents and their transgender children.  Putting off puberty, in which a child's body begins to grow and betray who they know themselves to be, is, in so many cases, lifesaving.

Arizona's governor has anti transgender bills waiting to be signed on his desk.  Targeting sports and surgeries.  "Solutions" to problems that do not exist.  But they sure do galvanize the easily led horde of ignorant bigots.

And Arizona is only 1 of twenty states with laws like this winding their way through legislatures as the Republicans have rabidly grabbed the issue as the latest wedge they can use to gin up fear and righteous indignation among their base.  Alabama has passed transgender targeted laws as of last week outlawing puberty blockers, the ability to play sports, and use the bathroom that corresponds to the child's gender.

Let's pause for a moment and just visit the bathroom issue.  This gets conservative knickers in a wad on the daily.  

It was only a few years back that the bruhaha over transgender people in bathrooms became an issue - remember the "boycott" of Target by bigots horrified that Target supported transgender folks?  Given the torrent of media attention, targeting of trans people, and the hue and cry of the GOP, you would have thought transgender people had just been beamed down to Earth from a spaceship, never having inhabited the planet before.  The reality is you have been peeing and pooping in public restrooms alongside transgender people all your lives.  You know why you didn't know?

Because no politician deemed it a shiny thing with which to gain your attention and harness your fears.  It is a made up issue.

Transgender people are not laying in wait in public bathrooms, lurking to accost you or molest your children.  They are in there, behind a stall door, peeing or pooping as fast as is humanly possible, so they may get out safely.  Yes, that's right.  THEY are afraid of YOU.  YOU are the X factor.  YOU are the danger.  YOU represent the potential to end up injured or killed.

Let that sink in.  Even if you are an ally, YOU scare my son.  Because you look like any other person, which means you look like any other bigot.  And if you can't clock my son as transgender, do you think he can clock you as a safe space?  Sorry, but you are not getting the benefit of the doubt when he knows his life is constantly in danger.

Bathrooms are not an issue.  Period.

Sports have become a hot button as well.  Just stop.  For young children, sports are socialization, team building, camaraderie.  As they get older, they are outlets, safe spaces, places where goals can be set, strived for, attained, where acceptance thrives.  If a student is talented enough to move into collegiate sports, they have busted their asses for at least 15 years to get to that point.  Being transgender does not change it.  If anything, it hamstrings it.  The NCAA has rules and hormone level monitoring in place.  And stop pointing at swimmer Lia Thomas to prop up your "argument" against transgender people in sports competitions.  Yes, Lia is tall and muscled.  But as soon as Lia began HRT, she lost muscle, strength, recovery took longer.  And she was required to be on HRT for a full year before being allowed to compete.

As for her height, build?  Um, check out the women who play in the WNBA.  Tall, strong, muscled, talented.  Do you have a problem with them?  Didn't think so.

But back to the legislation.  Twenty states.  Did you know that?  My Mom did not.  She did not know that there were politicians openly advocating beating up my son.  That in Texas a former teacher running for office openly complained about not being allowed to let her students laugh at transgender pupils.  Or Robert Foster, a former Republican representative who openly stated on Twitter that anyone who supports transgender people should be "lined up against (a) wall before a firing squad to be sent to an early judgment.”

I stress the word openly because it matters.  My son is loved, accepted by his friends and family, but with every utterance like those, every vile tweet, every piece of targeted legislation, he feels it.  Deeply.  And from where he sits, no one cares.  No one is challenging these people, their actions, their violent stances, their brazen targeting of him and anyone like him.  Yes, the ACLU immediately steps in to file suit when these things are signed into law, but the reason these things get this far is because not enough people are paying attention, staying informed, and making their voices heard, and heard loudly.

It's happening with abortion.  Reproductive rights are being slowly erased state by state.  Did you know that?  It does not matter if you are done having kids, never want to have kids, or are personally aggrieved at the thought of abortion.  This is about bodily autonomy.  It is about having a say in what medical procedures you choose.  As I told my Mom, who is opposed to abortion, it doesn't matter.  Her personal or religious feelings about the matter extend only to herself.  If I cannot force her to have an abortion, she cannot force someone else to not have one.  It would have been no different if when my father were dealing with Parkinson's that a Christian Scientist inserted themselves in between him, my mother, and his doctors, denying him medication to improve his life.  Or denying my sister the chemo she needed to fight her breast cancer.  If their deeply held beliefs could not step into those scenarios, why should hers be allowed to step into someone else's intensely personal medical discussions and decisions about abortion?

Look, we are all tired, beaten down by four years of a venal, vengeful presiduncy, three years of an isolating, deadly pandemic.  But it is our collective ennui that is being relied upon by opportunistic, hateful, power hungry politicians and religious zealots to pass their agendas.

We fail only when we do not try.

My son is transgender.  I have two daughters.  I implore you, pay attention, stay informed, try.  For them.  For me.  And ultimately, for you.  If my almost 80 year old mother can make that promise, that commitment, I know you can, too.

Transpotting

Trainspotting.  In its oldest meaning it is a term having to do with, literally, train spotting.  Noting distinctive characteristics.

In the 80's it bubbled up as a British colloquialism having to do with obsessing over one thing - a sport, an actor, a characteristic.

In 1996, a movie by the name Trainspotting came out, and it referenced being able to spot a drug user by the tracks on their arms.  Again, characteristics.

People are people and we do, like it or not, categorize, clump, arrange things, foods, places, people in our minds.  We're simple that way and it makes us better able to navigate life to assign new things to their lane in our heads.

The problem comes when that simplistic, lizard brained impulse makes us look for characteristics in order to clump, fear, and target groups of people.

We have a long history of that.  Native Americans - targeted to the brink of disappearance.  Women - targeted throughout history.  Black people - targeted, stolen, marginalized, beaten, killed throughout history.  Jews, Muslims, Asians - targeted, targeted, targeted.  Gays - targeted, demeaned, written off, killed.  

Human beings are horrific creatures.  We like to hold ourselves so far above any other being on the planet, but the reality is we are stupid, callow, shallow, fearful, hateful, bigoted, and STUPID - yes, that one is worth including twice.

In their continued quest to be perpetual victims, the GQP, rife with the most conservative (read: willfully ignorant), religious, self important specimens on this big, blue orb of ours, must constantly have a group in their crosshairs.  Someone, something at which they direct their belief that society's ills are the fault of that group, that object.

Red Starbucks cups at Christmas.  Oh, holy night and holy hell - they rent their garments over cups appearing without reindeer, sleighs, and snowflakes.  The War On Christmas - God forbid we say Happy Holidays to include the many observed celebrations during that period of the year.  Gay marriage - according to their histrionics, shouldn't we all be marrying our pet sheep by now?   Wasn't the legalization supposed to immediately lead to bestiality?  How about border caravans?  They move into the conservative media just as an election is in the offing.  Millions of brown people on the move like fire ants ready to overrun the southern border and make our legs itch or take our jobs picking tomatoes or something.  Then the election cycle ends and the caravans disappear back into the bullshit ether from which they were conjured.  Muslims - their hew and cry about them always has to do with Sharia Law taking over the land.  Such batshit, made up, Pavlovian response targets - it would be laughable if it weren't literally deadly for the groups of very real innocents who get caught in the web.

Which brings us to their hysteria du jour - transpotting.  Obsessed with the genitalia of others, the targeting of transgender people reached a new high, or rather low, today in Texas.  In a letter from governor (small g intended) Greg Abbott to Commissioner Jaime Masters of the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services, he decreed transgender children begin to be investigated and that their parents who support them in their transitions be targeted as child abusers.  

Not kidding.

And he further instructs all doctors, teachers, caregivers, etc to immediately report and out any transgender children they see, come into contact with.

NOT FUCKING KIDDING.

One of my children is transgender.  And as I have openly written here for years about him, our family, and his transition - any of you who may have rolled your eyes or blew me off as being over emotional, hyperbolic, etc, may now truly fuck all the way off, climb the fence you come to, and continue fucking off till you fall off the edge of the fucking Earth.

This is why we had to get him the hell out of Texas many years ago.   We had lived there long enough to know the environment, the atmosphere of blinding stupidity and bigotry, and to see exactly what was coming in the form of governance.

And now it's here.  And it will not stop in Texas.  These verminous religious zealots and their certitude are everywhere.  Just as there are transgender children and adults everywhere.  And the cretins will not stop their attacks, especially as long as transgender people remain a juicy, scary wedge issue they may use to gin up fear, scare up votes.  Just as they continue to nip away at abortion rights, they are now going after transgender people, and far worse, hyper targeting children.

Transgender youth have a suicide attempt rate of 41%  Not because they don't know who they are.  They do.  But because they fear society knowing who they are and being targeted.  

Think I'm exaggerating?  OK, we'll let my son give you a little view into his world as he struggled with the fear of coming out - even to his family who have always been huge advocates.  Take it from here, Toby:

So fun fact: I would 100% be dead without the support my parents had shown me when I came out to them with the intent to transition.

That's a scary thing to say but it's something I can say with absolute certainty because I'm far enough removed from that situation that I can look back on my final year at UT Dallas and know how horrible my mental and emotional health were, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt I would've taken my own life if I had tried to stay and not started my transition. I can probably count on one hand the number of days in my sophomore year there that I DID NOT break down in my apartment bedroom, or have a panic attack in a bathroom stall in between classes and practice. (Or sometimes having panic attacks or disassociating during practice, those were fun times.)

I was horrified for years to tell my parents I was trans, and the one moment of solace from that horror came when I finally told my mom and she just hugged me and asked "Ok, what do you need us to do?"

The fucking point is, supporting your child and getting them the help they need to live an authentic and genuine life is not child abuse, it's the bare fucking minimum for being a parent. If you can't imagine having the same reaction my mom did when I told her I was trans, do not fucking procreate. You should love your child unconditionally, not based on if they're cisgendered and heterosexual.

This shit is reprehensibly evil and rooted in hatred and bigotry, and is going to do incalculable harm to trans people and their families, and I hope Greg Abbott burns in hell for it.

Even this many years on, with him in such a good place emotionally, building a remarkable life of his own, it still guts me to read how close we came to losing him.  That incredible athlete, artist, funny friend to all.  I have friends who have lost their children to accidents and completed suicides.  I know the look in their eyes - that they are forever walking through a nightmare while wide awake.  It is a horror, a pain I selfishly hope to never know firsthand.  But I know now how close we came.  That he grew up in a home where love flowed like water, where it was unconditional, all consuming, in unlimited quantities, and still feared what might happen when he told us?

That haunts me every day.  He lived in a house that love built, where fear of being cast out should never have entered his mind, but it did.  He knew he was transgender for a long time before he finally took that deep breath, risked shredding every vestige of security he had ever known, and said the words out loud.

What he found on the other side of those words were my arms around him, my heart beating against his,  and the assurance that we were going nowhere without him.

That is what a transgender child needs.   That is what a transgender child deserves.  Hell, it is what we all need and deserve in this life.  

But because I supported my child, found a therapist for him, financed HRT, paid for top surgery - I am now classified a child abuser under the bullshit laws and notions of the most backwards sect in our society - and sadly far too many of them are in positions of power to tear families apart, to increase that already galling number of 41%.

And that is not hyperbole.  More young people will die in states that begin intruding in these ways.  The bastardization of the child abuse laws, the overreach of protective services, and the hubris to insert themselves into the most intimate, challenging, scary parenting I have ever done?

FUCK GREG ABBOTT AND EVERY SINGLE WRETCH WHO DEIGNS TO THINK THEY HAVE ANY BUSINESS NEAR MY CHILD OR ANYONE ELSE'S TRANSGENDER CHILD.

The absolute balls, the intrusion, the disrespect, the disregard - it is galling.  These stains bleat on and on about their belief in small government.  Sure, small enough to stick into my uterus and decision making about my body, about abortion, and now about how a parent helps their child navigate the uncharted waters of their dysphoria and transition.  Hell, about how a parent helps their child stay alive.  

It is not anyone's business.  Not the government's to dictate to or penalize and certainly not total strangers who will now feel empowered to "turn in" transgender children and their parents because... well, because they make them feel oogy.

My son is right - if you cannot provide unconditional love and security to a child, DO NOT PROCREATE.  No child deserves to come into the world to people who will vilify them, torture them, cast them out of they do not fit into the neat little cishet box carved out for them in their parents' minds.

Here are some facts, since conservatives live on made up crap they pass around on Facebook.

Just like Critical Race Theory is not taught to your precious cherubs in their grade schools, middle schools, or high schools, or even undergraduate classes in college - no matter how many times Tucker Carlson bleats about it behind his bow tie-  no transgender child is out there having their body parts surgically removed.  It does not happen.

Do they have puberty blockers prescribed by their doctors if warranted?  YES.  Because it is a decision made between the doctor(s), parents, and child.  And it is a life saving one.  For a child who knows - and yes, they KNOW - hitting puberty and having their body completely betray who they know themselves inside to be, is dangerous.  It is where depression, anxiety, and suicide attempts are found.  Puberty blockers are prescribed.  A parent cannot just stroll into CVS and buy some off the shelf.  They are monitored, blood draws are done and levels monitored.  It is not some capricious, on-a-whim, get it at the drive thru choice.

An older transgender child may be prescribed HRT (hormone replacement therapy) - again, a life saving option in which blood levels are monitored.  

Our son's journey is a good example of how not fast or whim-like the process was.

He came out to me.  That did not magically make anything better other than him knowing he was still safe and loved.  Therapy came next.  A full year of therapy before she signed off on the referral to another doctor who would prescribe and monitor HRT.  And it is monitored to this day.  (Just as he continues therapy to this day.) He gets blood drawn regularly so she knows everything is ok, or that the level of testosterone needs adjusted.  After he started HRT, it was another full year before he had top surgery with a phenomenal surgeon in Austin.  Yes, we arranged it.  Yes, we went with him.  Yes, we paid for it.

We are such abusers.

We are now almost 7 years from when he came out to me.  That is amazing to type.  Seven years in which we have all become more for helping him become whole.  He is an extraordinary human being.  Talented, funny, loving, fiercely loyal to his friends, protective of his people.  And he moves among the populace as who he is - a dapper-as-fuck young man with a rich baritone voice and a five o'clock shadow.  

Oooooo, scary.  Is that what bothers you wetbrained fearmongers?  That you could meet him and <gasp!> not know?  

I have news for you - you don't need to know.  He is no threat to you.  But you sure as hell are a threat to him and anyone like him.  His genitals?  Not any of your business.  His medications?  Piss off.  Unless you're cool with me raiding your medicine cabinet or asking you some intensely personal questions about what size your dick is, how shriveled are your balls, or how floppy your downstairs meat curtains hang in your underwear  you need to mind your own fucking business.

As does Greg Abbott and the cabal of creatures like him who are legislating good, decent, loving, protective parents into child abusers.   The true abusers are Abbott and his ilk who would cast out their children, deny them life saving options as they transition, and feel glee as yet another transgender suicide makes headlines.

It's not hard to mind your fucking business.  It's not hard to stand in front of the mirror and take a good long look at what characteristic YOU have that could end up putting you in a group to be targeted.  Red hair?  Webbed toes?  Blue eyes?  Beer gut?  Dick cheese?  

Think it cannot happen?  It is happening.  You just haven't had your turn at being trainspotted.  And this society has more than proved there is a choo choo coming for everyone.

Someone I Love Is Transgender

The graphic was sent to me this morning.  Simple, beautiful, and I posted it immediately.  On this Trans Day of Visibility, it is impossible to overstate how deep to me is the meaning in these few words.

Not because today is TDOV - a day when transgender and nonbinary people are highlighted in this world.  

Not because someone saw it and sent it to my inbox.  Make no mistake, friends who do these things and make their ally-ship so open are cherished.

Rather, it is the candor of the statement that catches my heart.  It is simple.  It is declarative.  And for me, it is a dare.  I dare anyone to come for me because of it.  I dare anyone to espouse their personal bile and bigotry, to spew their ignorance and oogies.  I dare anyone to tell me I am wrong. 

I am unashamed, I am unabashed.  I am the very vocal, proud and protective mother of a transgender human being.

He, like his siblings, is the air I breathe.  His existence is part of how I exist.  And his gender is simply one piece of a very complex young man.

Like all of us.  None of us are simply ONE THING.  We are physical attributes, personality traits, likes, dislikes, quirks, talents, hopes and dreams.  Yet because he is something not universally shared or understood, he is reduced to ONE THING.  He is mocked.  He is scorned.  He is threatened.  He is caricatured.  His very existence is suspect, his very existence, to some, should not even be.

Think about that for a moment.  As a parent, look at your child and imagine society wishing him/her/they harm, or worse, extinction, simply for being who they are.  I had zero control over being 5'2" with green eyes.  I just am.  He has zero control over being transgender.  He just is.  He did not set out to be.  He did not fall down some internet rabbit hole and become gender radicalized.  He did not choose a supremely difficult path through life out of boredom.

He transitioned to save his life.  To finally live his life.

Like so many decent parents of trans kids, I have often used the word "brave" in describing him.  The reality is, most transgender people dislike the adjective being applied to them.  Being your true, authentic self should not be an act of bravery.  Coming out and declaring who you are is an act of self love, of literal survival.  The bravery aspect exists because in doing so they must deal with a society that reviles them.

My child wakes up each day knowing how so many in this world view him.  He knows how many bills are currently winding their way through legislatures targeting him.  He knows that an act as simple as grocery shopping could get him hurt.  Yet he grocery shops anyway.  He is forced by society to be brave in order to simply exist.  He doesn't want to have to be brave.  He simply has no choice.

As his mother, there is not a day that goes by when I do not worry about him.  People often check in and ask me about that, assuming that since we are four+ years down the road that somehow the worst is behind us.  Hardly.  I look at the road we have walked with him thus far and while it has not been perfectly smooth, we have walked it together, walked it with love, walked it with support.  But the worst actually resides ahead of us.  Because we don't know what will happen.

Arkansas just made it possible for medical persons to deny services to members of the LGBTQIA based on the make believe choices of the provider.  Yes, make believe.  Whatever your chosen religion, and yes, YOU CHOOSE TO PARTICIPATE, you believe yours is right and others are wrong.  Yours is sacrosanct and others are bullshit.  The reality is they are all manmade opiates for the masses.  Which is fine until you start hiding behind yours to deny the humanity of others.

That is what laws like the one in Arkansas do.  They strip the humanity from people like my son, instead allowing doctors to paint them with whatever wrongheaded, lie laden, meme generated, Facebook group make believe suits them.  It allows bigotry to hide behind religion (although the two booty call each other regularly), and allows my son to be placed in jeopardy.  These bills also target trans youth - wanting to completely deny them gender affirming care like reversible puberty blockers and hormone therapy.  These bills, if passed, are literal death knells for a segment of society which already has a 41% suicide attempt rate.

Between bills and laws like this and the number of hospitals in this country that are affiliated with religions like Catholicism, my heart is forever held hostage by the "what ifs" - What if he is in an accident?  What if he needs emergency care?  That his life depends on who responds to the scene, who cuts his shirt off and sees his top surgery scars, who cuts his pants off and sees what they don't expect to see.  That his life could end because someone's personal biases, bigotry, hate, and ignorance take precedence over 'First do no harm'?

That is the worst.  That is what keeps me up at night,  That is what can leave me breathless if I think too much about it.

My son is not a threat to you, to your child, to their sports team.  My son played on a woman's college soccer team.  After he had come out to us.  Yes, we knew he was transgender and he went back to school and completed another season, another full year of school under the radar.  Presenting as a female did not make him less transgender.  And being a trans man did not suddenly make him more or less of a soccer player.

But it makes good press with which Republicans can scare their fact challenged constituency.  Like Target bathrooms were, sports are now the new frontier in trans panic.  And it is as pathetic as it is unfounded.  My son played with girls, some of whom were physically bigger than many of the players on the men's team.  Should they have been disqualified?  Of course not.  

My son is honestly not some big mystery.  He is not a ghoul, a fiend, a monster.  He is not a pedophile, nor is he a pervert.  He's a human being.  A pretty ordinary one.  And if you didn't know, you wouldn't know.  His voice is deep.  His face is whiskered.  His hair, like millions of other guys out there. 

Is that the part that scares you?  (You being the bigger you, not specifically YOU - I trust if you are reading this YOU are a decent person.)  That you might meet a transgender person and have no idea?  Or worse, GASP!, like them?!?!?  I promise you, no trans person is attempting a ruse with you.  Use the word 'passing' if you like, but the reality is they are simply just being themselves.  You know, like you.  And honestly, so what if you can tell?  So what if someone is early in their transition?  They, too, are simply being themselves.  They are not setting out to be a threat to you - the reality is that you are a far greater threat to them.

My son wants to be happy.  Pretty simple.  He wants to wake up, have friends, take care of his pets, do his classwork, draw commissions for his followers, watch the latest season of Hell's Kitchen, Facetime me to show me what his new kitten is up to, make a smoothie, go to Target, scroll Zillow, play Subnautica, plan for his future.  Nowhere on his personal To Do list will you find terrorize a public bathroom, threaten another human being, deny someone their humanity.

He just wants to go from sunup to sundown safely.  Again, like you.  And perhaps this is what bothers you, too.  He is far more like you than you care to acknowledge.  Because should you open your eyes to just how much you have in common, how ordinary is his life, how he doesn't want more than you, just the same as you - then you would be left with a bunch of manure and nowhere to spread it - you would instead be in the position of opening your eyes, your brain, your heart.

On this Transgender Day of Visibility, think about that.  Think about how you wish to be treated by society, by your employer, as you navigate this life.  Then take a moment and apply that to my son.  Let your hate, fear, and willful ignorance wash away and maybe, just maybe, you will begin to see the humanity in everyone.

Someone I love is transgender.  His name is Toby and he is my extraordinarily ordinary hero.

24 Years and Counting (My Blessings)

For over 15 years now I have come to this space and shared stories from around the world, expounded on breaking news, raged against the machine of racial inequality, bigotry, phobias of all ilk.  I have used this piece of the internet to purge the horrors, frustrations, and fears that circle my own mind, hoping they help give voice to yours.  And for over 15 years I have opened a window into the life of my family. 

Sharing them with you has been about more than self indulgent prattle.  It has been about connection.  Opening up about the highs, and more importantly, the lows has helped spark dialogues, debates, and hopefully the feeling that you are not alone.  It has certainly helped me feel that way.

The family that has grown here at DGMS has literally watched my kids grow up.  You have celebrated sports wins, theater performances, homecomings and proms with them.  You have lent support during times of strife, struggle, and uncertainty.  You have cheered their victories and "held my hand" through their defeats.

And four years ago, when we stepped into the light and I shared our son's transition, the loving embrace of this blogmunity and beyond was breathtaking.  You did not skip a beat.  I had known for years and years that this space had attracted a collection of deeply decent, human, wondrous people, but in that moment and all the moments since, you have revealed an even more profound side for which I am eternally grateful.

I come here today to once again share.  Because today that son turns 24.  Because today I again sit here awed and grateful that the universe chose me to be his mother.  (And before anyone goes there - I am awed and grateful for each of my children - Culley and Kendall are, like Toby, the air I breathe, and I am never not struck by how lucky I am to be their mother - but today is about Toby.)

Toby was not planned.  We firmly thought we were done.  Two kids, beautiful, healthy, happy - we were set.  But as they say, life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.  Another plus sign on a pregnancy test, and away we went.  Plans changed, we were to be a family of five.

I can tell you, from the moment he arrived, we knew each other.  My voice was the one that could make him stop crying.  My touch felt different to him and he would immediately settle down.  As he grew into a toddler, his sense of humor was so present, as was his affection for us all.  I know that is a trait shared by many youngest children - they love an audience - but he was an art form all his own.

Easy going, adaptable, but wrapped in an iron will - that was this child.  As he grew, I watched as he gravitated towards the underdogs.  He was a protector, a champion.  Even as a youngster, he had no time or patience for school hallway bullies or any of the cruelty that kids dispense so freely towards one another. 

In terms of his siblings?  Fierce.  He may fuck with them endlessly, mercilessly, but woe betide anyone else who tries.  That is simply a line you do not want to cross.  (And I can tell you, it works in reverse.  He has incredible champions in his sisters.  Incredible tormentors, too.)

Soccer came along and became the outlet for all the energy, drive, and athleticism that were looking for expression.  And he flourished.  He loved the sport and the sport loved him.  I had never met anyone in my life who poured themselves so fully and constantly into a pursuit.  And so I supported him every step of the way.  My only rule was, if I ever have to start pushing you out the door, I stop.

I never had to push.  Even when he was shouldering abusive coaches, jealous teammates, teammates' heinous parents, even injuries - he was determined to best them all.  And he did.  There was so secret to his success.  As much as those parents and players wanted to cry "favoritism" there was only one reason he excelled.  He busted his ass every single day and night.  Look at any athlete who makes it look easy.  What you are not seeing are the hours of blood, sweat, tears, and training off the field.

It was constantly humbling.

And then, in an embarrassment of riches way, the artwork started.  And like the soccer, he poured himself into his own betterment.  Something that has always existed is that he would draw something, blow us away, and then two weeks later he would hate it.  Literally, he would be embarrassed by it because in two weeks time he had gotten that much better.

It's why I still don't have a tattoo.  I want him to draw one for me, but he refuses because he will eventually hate it because there will come a point where he knows it could be better.

Throughout his middle school, high school, and college years, I have always written the words "people just want to be in his orbit."  He doesn't try to make it happen, it just happens.  Not because he is gregarious, he's not.  (Well, not with strangers - he's a hoot with those who get inside.)  But because he is constant, consistent, loyal, funny.  There is no bullshit, nor is there a tolerance for it.  There is no litmus test to be his friend other than "Are you an asshole?"  Assholes need not apply.  Ever.

He has always been an extraordinary human being.  It may sound funny for a parent to say they look up to their child, but I always have.

When both sisters were gone to college, T and I entered a three year period where it literally was just he and I.  It was a peaceful coexistence, a sports partnership, a friendship in which bad jokes, support, and love sustained us both.

When he left for college, the hole he left was felt deeply.  So I chased his soccer team where ever they went, cheering, clapping, living for the end of each game when I got to finally hug him for a minute before he was swept back into a locker room or onto a team bus.

I was ready to chase that team for four solid years.  But again, life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.  And all those plans were about to go out the window.

I have parented my kids through heartbreaks, an abusive relationship, academic disappointments, and uncertainty.  But the day Toby told me, through tears and fears, that he was transgender was the moment every other moment of parenting had led me to.  The moment the rubber truly met the road and I knew who I was in this world, in their world. 

In that moment, his clarity was also mine.  Because in that moment I knew there was nothing, NOTHING in this world that could ever shake my love for him, for them.  There was nothing they could tell me that would make me step back from them or falter.  In that moment of seeing someone be so raw, so brave, I knew.

I was absolutely blessed to be this person's mother, protector, champion. 

The past four years have been a master class in the heart of a human being.  Watching Toby muddle through, figure things out, rise above, push himself, and emerge as who he fully is?  Humbling is not a big enough word.  It has been awe inspiring.  It has been breath taking. 

That doesn't mean it is done or over or that there are not struggles now and ahead.  We live in a society peopled with bigots, fearmongers, liars, and dangers for someone like Toby.  I know that.  He knows that. 

But he perseveres.

He has built a life for himself, carefully filling it with people who know him, accept him, and never think a thing about his letter in the great rainbow flag of the spectrum.  His artwork has garnered him an immense online following.  He does commission work that is so sought out that each month when he opens the link, he has to close it within 24 hours.  August 1 of this month?  It was closed within two hours of opening.  He can only draw so much in a month.

Online he makes no secret of his status as a transgender person.  And because of his candor, he helps others, especially younger people who reach out.  He knows at the deepest level what it means to have representation, to see yourself in the world.  Especially to see yourself succeeding despite the coalition of assholes who live to only hurt others.

He lifts, he inspires, and he is real.  Perhaps that has always been the secret.  He just is.  And that realness is safety to others.  Being yourself in this world is sometimes the biggest act of bravery.

And that I have always had a front row seat?  Blessed.   100%.

Today this incredible person turns 24 years old.  Please join me, as you have so often in the past, in wishing him a fabulous day and the best of wishes for what the year ahead has in store.

I love you, Toby.  You have always been everything I didn't know I still needed.  Happy birthday.

First Do No Harm*

I have a son.

He is 23 years old, a gifted artist, a humanitarian, and a fierce sibling.  He is funny, a great friend, a staunch ally.  He loves his dog and his cats.  He likes to watch movies, go to concerts, and enjoys a good cooking show.  He loves sushi, poke bowls, and chicken wings.  He has style, is passionate, compassionate, and champions the underdog.  He loves theater, show tunes, and playing video games.  He also loves his family and is loved by them in return.  He is the kind of person that if you are privileged enough to be his orbit, you are the luckiest fucker alive.

Oh, he is also transgender.

I left that last one to the end, as an afterthought of sorts, because being trans is not what defines him, any more than me being cis-het defines me.  It is just one piece of a very large, complex, HUMAN puzzle.  He is simply my son. 

It's not that I do not think about him being transgender daily.  I do.  Because of the society in which we live, I must.  I worry about his safety in the face of brutal bigotry.  I think about every step he takes when he goes to the grocery store, to see a movie.  I know he avoids public bathrooms whenever possible.  He is not a threat to anyone, but anyone could be a threat to him.

Having come out publicly in early 2016, when then candidate Trump was tearing up the campaign trail with his racism, bigotry, and histrionics on full display, I made it very clear to friends and family then: Vote for that fucking menace and you will be amputated from our lives.  That included third party "virtue" voting and not voting at all.  You could not claim to love my child and vote against his safety.  Period.

I do not care how much you want to call yourself an ally, if you align yourself at any point with the most retrograde elements and biases of society, you are not safe.  Stand at a MAGA rally next to KKK members?  You may as well have a white sheet over your head.  Respond to Black Lives Matter with All Lives Matter?  Bye, Felicia.  Buy into the transgender bathroom bullshit?  GTFO. 

As a parent of a transgender human being, I have zero time and patience for, or interest in, anyone who still doesn't understand the most fundamental piece of the LGBTQIA puzzle - that they are all human beings.  Diverse human beings deserving of respect, opportunity, safety, and equality.

You know, like you expect for yourself.

But yesterday, this abomination of an administration decided that the middle of PRIDE month, and on the fourth anniversary of the Pulse nightclub shooting, it was the perfect time to roll back protections for transgender people.

If your privilege has you sitting there ready to move on, shrug, or wonder why that matters, pull up a chair.

Let's start with the basics from the NYTs headline -

A rule finalized on Friday by the Department of Health and Human Services means that the federal government no longer recognizes gender identity as an avenue for sex discrimination in health care.

What does this mean?  Why does this matter?

It means that if my son breaks his leg, the next step in his medical care is now at the whim of the personal bigotry and biases of the doctors and nurses he encounters.  It means if he is in a car accident, the EMS responders can leave him to bleed out if his genitals gives them the oogies.  It means the Hippocratic Oath now has an asterisk:  First do no harm*.  That asterisk allowing them to feel free to deny care based on their bullshit and whims.  Doctors are now allowed to FIRST DO ALL HARM and be protected in the process.

Still don't get why you should care?

OK, let's make it personal.  How about medical persons are able to apply their personal biases, religious bullshit, and politics to every encounter? 

You have brown hair?  Ugh, I hate brown hair thinks the nurse and walks out on you. 

My God you're fat is the thought that is going through the doctor's head as the gurney rolls in front of him.  You deserve to suffer. 

Firefighters pulling you from your mangled car see your MAGA hat on your bleeding skull.  Sorry, no, burn, baby, burn as they walk away and the car explodes with you in it.

How about you rush your baby to the emergency room, scared to death that he/she is not breathing properly?  The responding physician takes one look at your Confederate flag t-shirt, does a big NOPE, and leaves your baby to die in your arms.

Outlandish?  Would never happen?  Doctors and nurses would never do this to you? BULLSHIT.  Florists and bakers deny service to LGBT people all the time, yet you think bigots of all ilk do not inhabit the medical field?

This is what has just been unleashed on my son.  On all transgender HUMAN BEINGS.  It is not enough that they live in fear for their lives daily, now they have to add knowing they could be callously left to die.

Still think it wouldn't happen?  IT HAS.

In 1995, Tyra Hunter was on her way to work and was in a car accident.  Paramedics arrived and pulled her from the vehicle to render aid.  As is part of the process, they cut her pants off.  As Tyra was transgender, they did not find her genitals to their liking.  Instead of aiding her, they made jokes as she bled on the asphalt.  As she struggled to breathe, as bystanders begged firefighters to help her, they continued to mock her "cock and balls."  It was not until a supervisor arrived on the scene that she received any aid and was transported to a hospital where she lay on a gurney, ignored by attending staff.

Paralyzed by a muscle relaxant, experts would later testify in court that she would have experienced "sheer terror" as she struggled against a lack of oxygen in her blood, as she slowly died.

Yes, she died.  Because small minded bigots decided she was not worthy of basic human kindness, consideration, their life saving efforts.

You can read the entire story here, I encourage you to do so.  Actually I DARE YOU TO DO SO.  TYRA HUNTER

If you can read that account and come away thinking what was sanctioned by Trump and his coven of assholes yesterday is still ok?  Turn your human being card in.  You are wasting oxygen on this planet.  If you think, Oh, Linda, that was 1995, we have come so far - your privilege is showing and you need to wake the fuck up.

Racism, bigotry, phobias, biases - they exist in every occupation on this planet.  But if you enter medicine and are not prepared to treat every patient you encounter with dignity, compassion, and your best efforts?  Do us all a favor and find something else to do with your life.  You do not deserve the privilege of being a medical provider.

We are currently in the middle of a massive health crisis in this country.  COVID-19 is raging.  Yet because this administration has decided to stop talking about it, millions have decided it must be over.  So try this one on.  You are one of those FOX news junkies who have thought it was a hoax all along, and besides, your president doesn't wear a mask so why should you?  Masks are for pussies.  Oops.  Suddenly, you have a fever.  Damn, this cough is odd and won't go away.  Honey, I am having trouble breathing, can you take me to the hospital?

Your spouse deposits you at the ER entrance.  You are taken inside as you struggle against the lung butter filling your airspace.  You are dying, you can feel it.  You need oxygen.  A doctor comes into your cubicle, sees your peril, but wait, what's this?  He/she recognizes you from the local grocery store where they saw you laughing at a family wearing masks.  You, of course, were not wearing one, or observing any social distancing.

Filled with frustration at being faced with yet another asshole who did not believe until too late, the doctor looks at you and simply says, "NO.  Ventilators are for those who at least tried." and walks out.  You feel your lungs continue to betray you, fear in every cell of your rapidly declining body.  You fall to the floor and die.

THAT is what biases in medicine can do.  And you thinking that no doctor would ever dare violate their oath is pure folly.  People are people and there are good ones and bad ones everywhere.

So if you believe you automatically deserve respect and care despite your large body mass, political affiliation, religious beliefs, embrace of conspiracy theories, skin pigment, shoe size, or eye color; that none of those things should have any bearing on if you get care or the type of care you receive - then perhaps you are starting to understand the very real fear unleashed yesterday.

My child is not less deserving of consideration because he is transgender.  It does not make cleaning his teeth any more challenging.  His heart does not beat any differently, his blood is not a different color.  If he breaks an arm and needs an xray, the treatment would be no different than for your cis het bones. 

Look at your own children.  Let yourself be overcome with how much you love them.  How your life would crumble were something to happen to them.  Now, as you watch them playing on the rug, watching TV, reaching for a video game - I want to remind you, YOU DON'T KNOW.  Until they themselves put words to what they know inside, you have no idea where on any spectrum they fall. 

If their truth ultimately contains the word 'transgender' or any of the letters of LGBTQIA - what do you want for them?  At the very least, the bare minimum, I hope you don't want them to die at the hands of the callous disregard of those who have sworn to 'first do no harm... unless, of course, you make me feel uncomfortable.'

I have a son.  And he is every bit as deserving and precious as is yours.

Four Years On - A Family In Transition

Four years ago today, my family emotionally held hands and publicly stepped into the light with our son.  But it was a little over five years ago that he stood before me, took the deepest breath of his life, and told me his truth.  Rather, THE truth.  THE truth, because there is no question about who he is.  THE truth because anyone who knows him, knows.  THE truth because if you are privileged to step into his life, you, too, quickly understand that this is who he is, who he has always been.

As I look back over the landscape of the past five years, it is with immense joy and pride.  Parenting is full of moments - happy, sad, frightening, filled with elation, filled with fear - I have been privileged to know all of those things with our three children.  But in the past five years, I have had a front row seat for bravery.  That's something that is, in this life, rare to see from a distance, almost impossible to find up close.

I offer up this piece again in the hope that it will help enlighten those who still live in the darkness of ignorance; that it may provide a touchstone to a parent whose child may be on the verge of taking their own deepest breath; that it may let another child, another adult who feels lost and alone on the spectrum of beautiful humanity know that they are not.  And most importantly, to let those children, those adults know that there is the possibility of unimaginable happiness, fullness of life, and immeasurable love on the other side when you exhale.

I am a proudly transparent trans parent, and my love is not a light switch.  Happy tranniversary, Toby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 7, 2016

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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 (2016).  Enjoy.  And please share if you know someone you think this may touch/help/inspire.

The Medical Minefield of the LGBTQIA

Wedding cakes, shops, city hall license offices, celebration venues - we are all familiar with the headline making forms of discrimination faced by the LGBT.  The cases make the news, outcry is immediate, courts become involved, conservative "heroes" like Kim Davis are born, used as props by opportunistic politicians, and die back into obscurity. 

Make no mistake, every act of discrimination needs confronted.  Bigotry cannot be legalized.  And dragging one's religion in as a convenient cudgel with which to beat upon others is absolutely ungodly.  But as much as these types of cases make the nightly news, there is a much more insidious form of discrimination performed daily.  And it can have deadly consequences.

The nightmare that is the medical minefield for those on the spectrum.

As the mother of a transgender son, I have seen the danger zone up close and personal.  I have stood beside him ready to do battle on his behalf.  I have breathed sighs of relief when a blood draw passes without comment or side eye.  And I cringe inside knowing he has this gauntlet to run the rest of his life.

Look at just a few basic stats for the LGBTQIA community from hers, a comprehensive site dedicated to all women, not just cishet. ALL women are encouraged to check out hers’ Twitter for more information on this topic and many more.

Those numbers are real, and behind them are millions of real people.  They bleed, cry, get the sniffles, break bones, get cancer, contract the flu, and get poison ivy just like you, just like me.  The difference is, when I drag my cishet ass to the doctor, there is no preamble needed, no pseudo apology for who I am, no dread in my stomach, no fear for my safety, no suspicion, no discrimination.  I get seen, respectfully touched, diagnosed, treated.

That this is not the reality for so many of our fellow human beings is shameful.  A sick person is a sick person.  And they should be treated with decency, gentleness, respect, and professionalism.  Not be subjected to the bigotry or religious moors of the physician.

My son has been lucky.  Coming out to us as transgender did not result in him being kicked out, cut off from his family.  We have loved and supported him from the day he was born and that did not change.  Finding a therapist for him?  I still feel like we won the lottery.  I literally looked online for people specializing in gender issues, thought she had a nice picture, and wrote her an email.  She became a lifeline, an integral part of our son's journey, our journey with our son.

When a year had passed and she was prepared to write the letter confirming his gender identity so he could begin HRT, we struck gold again.  His therapist was able to hand us off to a colleague whose practice was open to caring for transgender patients.  Still and all, even with the assurance from the therapist, we were all tightly wound as we approached the office for Toby's first appointment.  The doctor put us all immediately at ease, especially our son.  She was friendly, informed, and honored to be asked to join our path with us.  She has treated him for several years now, monitoring his blood levels, adjusting the compound testosterone cream she prescribes.  And even though Toby now lives four hours away from her office, we will make the drive when he has to go for his first internal exam. 

Yes, four hours.  Aren't there doctors where he lives?  Of course there are, he lives in a major metropolitan city.  But we know this one.  We trust this one.  And we would drive forty hours for him to be in her care.

When it came time to move forward with top surgery, we did so much research.  Finding a plastic surgeon in our city whose website actually dedicated an entire section to services for transgender patients, we made an appointment.  From the first greeting, everything felt normal, no stigma.  The surgery went off without a hitch, and he was well cared for throughout.

Now, you may read all of that and think to yourself, well, it doesn't sound bad at all!  And you are right.  FOR US.  FOR NOW. But it has been the exception.  Our experience with our son is sadly not the experience of every person in the PRIDE parade.

In a 2017 survey conducted by the Center for American Progress, the findings were disturbing:

Among lesbian, gay, bisexual, and queer (LGBQ) respondents who had visited a doctor or health care provider in the year before the survey:

• 8 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider refused to see them because of their actual or perceived sexual orientation.
• 6 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider refused to give them health care related to their actual or perceived sexual orientation.
• 7 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider refused to recognize their family, including a child or a same-sex spouse or partner.
• 9 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider used harsh or abusive language when treating them.
• 7 percent said that they experienced unwanted physical contact from a doctor or other health care provider (such as fondling, sexual assault, or rape).

Among transgender people who had visited a doctor or health care providers’ office in the past year:

• 29 percent said a doctor or other health care provider refused to see them because of their actual or perceived gender identity.
• 12 percent said a doctor or other health care provider refused to give them health care related to gender transition.
• 23 percent said a doctor or other health care provider intentionally misgendered them or used the wrong name.
• 21 percent said a doctor or other health care provider used harsh or abusive language when treating them.
• 29 percent said that they experienced unwanted physical contact from a doctor or other health care provider (such as fondling, sexual assault, or rape).

That we are now trapped within an administration working feverishly to legalize even more discrimination means more LGBTQIA people will delay seeking treatment for fear of the above scenarios.  In their analysis, a full 6.7% of LGBT respondents indicated they had avoided seeking treatment in the past year for fear of discrimination.  Within that, 23% of transgender people avoided doctors for fear of discrimination or mistreatment due to their gender identity. 

These are human beings literally willing to risk death because of the vile treatment they fear awaits them on the other side of the stethoscope. 

Add in the fact that the majority of insurance companies do not contain provisions for gender related services, treatments, or therapies, and the 41% suicide attempt rate for transgender people comes into high focus.  Again, our son is fortunate.  We have resources.  We have been able to afford extended therapy, monthly HRT, blood draws and lab work, surgery - none of which has been covered by our insurance.  But I have lost count of the number of GoFundMe pleas I have read from transgender people who cannot afford HRT, whose dysphoria is making them suicidal, who cannot afford a binder, let alone therapy or surgery.

Equality is so much more than a wedding cake, a legal marriage, security in your job.  It must include equal, fair, and competent medical care as well.  The joke about clean underwear in a car accident?  Well, I don't worry about him having clean underwear, I worry about how he will be treated because of what is inside his underwear.  I should not lose sleep over our child being in an accident and denied respect and diligent care. 

But I do.  Because that is the world in which we currently live.  The world we must keep fighting to change. 

My son will soon go to have a yearly exam.  As long as he has those organs inside him, they must be monitored just as mine are.  I will go with him.  To hold his hand if he wants.  To tell bad jokes to pass the uncomfortable time.  But thankfully, not because either of us fear the doctor or her staff. 

That all LGBTQIA people could one day experience the same.

YAS NAS

Lil Nas X, the rapper who climbed over the mainstream country music hurdle with the help of Billy Ray Cyrus, has come out.  I rolled over in the middle of the night and saw I had a text from my son excitedly telling me and including the LGBT flag.

This is important.  It touches countless lives, young and old, in a very positive way.

And it's also a thing of beauty to sit here thinking of every bigoty, Christian conservative, minivan driving mom and dad who have happily been singing Old Town Road on repeat with their kids for months.

The song, Old Town Road, is a phenomenon - originally released independently in December 2018 in the Country genre category, it began charting quickly, and by March 2019 was simultaneously on the Billboard Hot 100, Hot Country Songs and Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs.

But then Billboard, in their infinite wisdumb, decided it wasn't country enough and dropped it from the category.  It was on its way to #1 on the Hot Country Songs list when that happened.

Enter Billy Rae Cyrus who collaborated with Lil Nas X on a remix released April 5th.  The remix most of us are familiar with - and it quickly hit #1 on the Billboard Hot 100.

It is maddeningly catchy and yes, decidedly COUNTRY.  It is also laden with the lyrical brilliance of rap, Lil Nas X referring it to country trap.  The song, both the original and the remix version have charted #1 in Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Ireland, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Switzerland, and the United Kingdom, hitting the Top 10 in many other international markets.

Here in the USA, it is wildly popular with kids.  There is a Kidz Bop version, and Lil Nas X surprised an elementary school and performed it, in a video that went viral showing hundreds of kids losing their collective minds and singing along.

We are all going to be ok pic.twitter.com/i1T9yJaN85

— tony pierce (@busblog) May 30, 2019

Yesterday, World Pride Day, and the last day of PRIDE month, he came out on Twitter.  And it is wonderful.  Yes, because he adds to the amazing and increasing reflection for LGBT kids and adults everywhere.  Representation is a huge thing - to see yourself in places you never saw yourself before - movies, music, commercials where so much headway is being made - it is glorious, it is affirming, it is life saving in many cases.  It reinforces the oft repeated message, "It gets better."

I can tell you it is true. I have seen it get better.

In his Tweet he acknowledges that may of his fans probably already knew, many did not, and that he would lose many, too.  He then asked people to listen to his song "c7osure" - these lyrics are especially heartening to me - a mom with a trans pan son:

This is what I gotta do / Can't be regrettin' when I'm old.

Watching our son finally live fully, breathe freely?  It is all we want for all of our kids - to not be regretting when they are old. 

Of course there is going to be fallout.  Conservative hair will be aflame as they delete the song from their Spotifys, vow to boycott all things Lil Nas X, even castigate Billy Ray for daring to hurt their achy breaky hearts by aligning with "one of them" - they are nothing if not pathetically predictable.  (See weekend uproar over gay penguins.)

But this morning, before they grab their pitchforks and start bitching?  I just have this to say:  YAS NAS.  The world is full of people who see you, appreciate you, and will continue to ride for you til they can't no more. 

This mom included.  Giddyup.

Groundbreaking PRIDE

Tomorrow marks the beginning of another PRIDE month - June being pivotal in that it commemorates the Stonewall riots of 1969.  There will be marches, displays, parties, shows of support, profile pictures changed to rainbow flags, and gifs aplenty going up on all manner of social media, not only by the LGBTQIA community, but by those who stand with them.

Being an ally is important, critical even, to any marginalized segment of society.  Without strong support from those who do not suffer under the weight of discrimination, derision, or danger - well, nothing much changes.  Women would not be voting, slavery would still be an active industry in this country, gay people would not be able to express their love and joy and marry one another, and on and on.

That is why being an ally means more than wearing a rainbow flag or changing your Facebook photo. 

To truly be an ally is, as I have written repeatedly, to step up, step in.  To call your representatives and staunchly state your position and support for equality, protections against discrimination; to stand beside someone being targeted, and then?  Stand in front of them.  Being an ally means putting yourself out there with them, not caring about the repercussions from bigoted friends or family or coworkers.  It means to personally take risk to effect change for someone else. 

Being an ally is not just an individual decision to be a decent human being.  You should be that anyway.  Companies, corporations also are able to plant their PRIDE flag and boldly proclaim their support, free market consequences be damned.  Target famously waded into the whole trans-people-in-bathrooms panic by publicly supporting the use of their restrooms based on the gender identity of the one using them.  Of course, there was the expected conservative hew and cry, threats to boycott and bankrupt them. 

And what happened?  Target thrives.  Because the bigots, the ignorant, and the pearl clutching religious right are far outnumbered by the decent, openhearted, open minded people who get it. 

We understand that there is nothing to fear in the bathrooms - quite frankly, the ones who are to be feared are the bigots.  Our trans son will avoid public bathrooms as much as possible because of the danger threatened by these reprobates.

We see with our hearts and know that what we feel is what they feel.  All the emotions of love, passion, commitment - those are not the sole domain of the hetero.  Two men or two women falling in love with one another is no different than me falling in love with my husband.  It is all-consuming; it is connection to another person; it is rational and nonsensical all at the same time.  And standing before family and friends and dedicating life, love, and forever is as important to them as it is to us.

We find no burden in honoring someone's pronouns.  Frankly, if we can remember someone's new married name, it is not quantum physics to remember someone's pronoun.  It is respect.

Just last night I received an email from Lyft stating they have added the ability in their app to add your pronouns.  So that your driver may understand and honor them.  It is a step that is in line with many other places and professions who recognize that the world is filled with far more identities than simply him and her.  I spoke about this with our daughter last night - she is actively pursuing her Master's in Public Health at Harvard, on the back of her current Bachelor's in Psychology, on her way to her doctorate.  She includes her pronouns in her email sign off, as do the majority of her colleagues.  When they are in meetings and introduce themselves, they include their pronouns.  It is not some snowflakey, safe space thing as so many small minded clods love to shout.  Again, the backbone at play here is RESPECT.

Respecting that the world does not revolve around your singular identity.  Respecting others enough to educate yourself and discover that these identities have existed for as long as people have existed.  Respecting that there is room for everyone - at the table, in the light, in the workplace.  Respecting that differences are not synonymous with dangers.

As PRIDE month gets underway, another company has stepped in with a beautiful, groundbreaking show of support, of recognition.  Gillette has released this ad.  Watch it and I will meet you on the other side.

I have watched the Gillette ad ten times now and my eyes fill over and over.  I know this yearning.  I have seen it in my son.  I know the words, "I just want to be happy."  My son has said them.  I know the feeling of "everyone around me is also transitioning."  I have written them about our journey with our child. 

And I know the wait for facial hair to begin to show up.  Toby has been on HRT for two years now, and while the changes have been steady, whiskers have been slow to show.  Until the past few months.  As they have come in, he has learned how to shave, to shape.  And to smile even bigger as his reflection in the mirror reflects the man he is inside.

It may seem like a small thing, something you take for granted because they just grow and you just shave.  We are all like that - cis people, that is.  We are comfortable in our bodies and what they do.  Our skin suit matches our soul stuffing.  That's a gift.  For a transgender person that is a goal. 

As PRIDE month begins, as you show your support as an ally, take time to reflect on the ease with which you navigate spaces as a cis-het person; open your eyes to how you see yourself reflected in media, movies, commercials daily.  The next time you mindlessly push open the door to public bathroom, stop for a second and think about how fraught that simple act is for so many.  The next morning you silently complain about putting on a bra, think about those who desperately wish they could, too.  The next time you stand shirtless on a beach, feeling the sun on your chest, think about those who hide their scars, or bind their chest down.  The next time you attend a wedding, observe love and remember that love is love is love is love.  Love is the most precious thing that can be found and shared between two people.

And then use your privilege, the knowledge you have of how easily you navigate the world, your own pride in being a decent human being, to step up, step in for them.

We all just want to be happy.