Telling Our Kids

2018

Frankly, telling our kids I am transgender terrified me. There's just no other way to say it. There was so much that could have gone wrong. I desperately wanted it to go well. Both of our kids were raised in a conservative Christian environment, and this gave me concern. My comforting thoughts were that they are genuinely good people and that both of them had shown signs of rebellion against that conservative background. 

Our older child is whip-smart, but that isn't who she is as a person. It does, however, enable her to dig deep into things and toss them around, and so I knew that she might well have some problems with all of this. However, she has friends and people she knows that are homosexual or transgender, and so honestly, I thought that might help. She has a lot of talents, and many of our discussions are on weighty matters, and I respect that about her.

Our younger child is also super smart, compassionate, and sees the best in people. I thought this might help, but at the same time, there is that conservative background, which had always seemed to have more of an impact on how she saw things than her older sister. She is a sweetheart, and she has a way of seeing the feelings behind the statement. She's an amazing storyteller - in an earlier time she easily could have been a bard - and I knew that because her mind can stitch together a tale, she would either quickly grasp the good in this, or find bad in it. She's creative, and I knew either she would be immediately comfortable, or horribly offended.

I agonized about how to say it. I agonized about what to say. I agonized about whether or not to even say anything. Would they notice? I knew they would, and likely already had. Would they care? Would they hate me? Would they embrace me? Would they no longer want to talk to me? I couldn't bear that, because they both are very special to me.

I researched how others have gone about telling their children, and I focused on those who talked about how they told adult children, because our kids are strong young women, and not kids at all. The method that seemed to work best was using a letter, so I decided to use that method.

I spent weeks composing a letter to them. Our family thrives on humor and sarcasm, so I tapped into both of these, and opened my heart, speaking (writing?) honestly about what I was experiencing. Our daughters are roommates in an apartment, so I gave them the letters with the instruction to read them at the same time, each in their own room.

Based on what they told us later, there was of course surprise and a lot of tears. But the part that really blessed me was that later that day, each of them contacted me and told me that they still love me. I can't tell you what a joy that was! They gave me tears of my own.