In recent months, I have read articles written about the trials and tribulations of being a gay parent, or the issues a parent faces having a gay child. I just got back from a vacation in Phoenix where most of my family lives and I felt that it was time to write a transgender person’s take on the subject.
In June of 1998, I came out to my parents, telling them I needed to change my sex and live as a woman. I will never forget what my mother said to me that day. “I wish you were just gay.” She could live with something she couldn’t see rather than the drastic changes I was destined to go through. When my experiment with dating men ended and I realized I just liked women, I called and told her, “I guess you got your wish, Mom. I am gay.” She wasn’t amused.
For seven and a half years, I wasn’t allowed to see my parents, or enter the house I grew up in. That all changed when my Father died two years ago this December. My mother wanted me home before he died, but he passed away while I sat in the airport waiting for my flight.
Last year when I went home again, my mother and I took a trip to Sedona where she began seeing me in a whole new light. She noticed that people didn’t make fun of me or try to hurt me as she thought would happen. In fact, she saw that they didn’t even suspect anything about me except that I was just another woman.
In April of this year, my Mother spent a week with me here in Atlanta and had one of the best vacations ever. She got to see me in my world and met many of my friends, including two of my ex-girlfriends. She didn’t skip a beat on my name or the pronouns the entire time. I see that as the turning point in our relationship.
I once again went back to Phoenix this Thanksgiving week, giving my Mother one of the biggest tests I could have come up with. Her and my brother attended the Phoenix Transgender Day of Remembrance, meeting several GLBT people I knew in the area. The event moved her and truly opened her eyes on many things.
If that wasn’t enough, my Mother and I drove to San Diego the next day where I spoke at their Transgender Day of Remembrance. My oldest son also attended that event, educating him on things he didn’t know about. After the event, people came up to my Mom and said they wish they had a mother like her. It surprised her, but made her feel wonderful.
I momentarily embarrassed my son during my speech by saying he just got out of the Marines and served two tours in Iraq. The people clapped loudly. He and I have become much closer because of his time in the Marines and because we are both veterans. Him serving our country continued a long family tradition.
Thanksgiving dinner took place at my sister’s house in Chino Valley, just north of Prescott. Not everyone from my family attended, but those who did treated me with respect. I also got to meet the relatives of my sister’s husband, Southern Baptists who originally came from Georgia. They had been forewarned about me, yet even they treated me with respect. Miracles do happen.
On Saturday of my vacation, I got to spend time with my only grandson, Xavier, who is now thirteen months old. I took him to a mall and spoiled him with cookies and ice cream. (Hey! It’s in the “Grandmother’s Handbook.”) In order to get an idea of what toys he liked, I pushed his stroller through a toy store and saw what he reached out for. Afterwards, he got his first picture with Santa Clause, but because he was frightened of the “Jolly ol’ Elf,” I had to sit in with them.
Many in our community are disenfranchised, disinherited and disowned by their parents and family. Some families will need time to heal and to transition along with their transgender family member. Sadly, other transgender people will never see their family accept them. It took a lot of work to transition my family to where it is today. With constant education, those transgender people not yet born could start off with families like mine. One can only pray.
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