I just wanted to say how proud I am, proud of the young woman you’ve become.”
There was a pause as my daughter took what I said in. Then she began to tremble, big wet tears rolling down her cheeks. “But Dad,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be a woman…” More tears, trembling, sniffling. “I want… I want to be a man.”
And right there, before my very eyes, my daughter became my son.
____
Of course, our oldest child had been transitioning for years. Mostly internally.
And in that moment, well … that was when I officially began my own transition. That was when I first looked at my child in a new light. As a “he” and not a “she.”
___
We had been sitting in a fancy restaurant in Las Vegas. It was a last minute trip. I felt I needed some bonding time with our oldest child because we were about to lose her to college. Of course we were happy for her, and this was me releasing her into the world, a symbolic gesture, like the doves at the Olympics. It represented hope and love and peace.
I also felt like I was losing my job, like my parenting skills would no longer be needed. I was becoming obsolete, an ironic twist to parenting that nobody mentions. Doubly so since I was a stay-at-home dad. This trip was my desperate attempt to cling to something that had meant so much to me. Without it, I was without purpose.
So when that emotional moment came, when I had mustered enough courage to express my parental pride and I was ready to let go, my own child said something that stopped me cold.
“Wait … what?”
Years of parenting had not prepared me for this.
But there she was, there HE was, sitting across from me, being vulnerable, and my heart melted. I wasn’t sure how to react, but I knew I would do whatever it took to help him achieve his goals, to ensure his happiness. Isn’t that what every parent wants?
___
To be honest, my first thought was not so noble. My first thought was “What did I do wrong?” Maybe by being a stay-at-home dad I had disturbed the natural order of things. Maybe the man is not supposed to raise children, imprinting his maleness upon them more than he should.
Or maybe my subconscious desire to have a son had influenced our child’s behavior? I was happy with two daughters, I had thought, but that primal instinct to keep the bloodline going, to survive, maybe that was too powerful; maybe that’s what was really driving me?
Or maybe it’s a passing phase? You know, teens and their hormones. Who knows what’s going on.
Or maybe it’s our child rebelling against us? The ultimate dis. Changing gender and choosing a new name, throwing out the one we had worked so hard to bestow.
But after considering all of the above, and going through many different emotions in the weeks following that trip, my wife and I settled on one simple truth: that our daughter had grown up uncomfortable. Brilliant, yes, and funny, and charming … but feeling that something was off.
And that’s all that mattered. This was our son wanting to be happy, wanting to live their best life. So we would support him as best we could.
___
Why had I painted their room pink? That’s what I did, the moment I knew we were going to have a baby girl. Before kids, my wife and I constantly questioned social norms. But then parenting comes along, and there’s nothing else to act as a guide really. One begins to rely on old folk sayings and ancient wisdom that has been passed down from generation to generation. Boys will be boys.
And signing her up for Girl Scouts? Probably a big mistake, I now realize.
___
We watched I Saw the TV Glow recently. The director, Jane Schoenbrun, describes the film as being about the “egg crack,” a term for the moment in a trans person’s life when they realize their identity does not correspond to their assigned gender.
It has helped me to understand what our child has been going through, and it made me sad that we didn’t recognize it sooner.
The signs were there, perhaps. Maybe. Our eldest daughter was never into dolls or social cliques or makeup or any of the stereotypical girly stuff. She loved acting, usually gravitating towards male roles. But she wasn’t necessarily a “tomboy” either. She was just our daughter, someone with a big personality who loved reading and singing and playing games.
HE is still that person.
Physically, there have been some minor changes. He has started taking testosterone. That’s when we knew he was serious. Growing up, he had always feared needles. Now he was injecting himself in the stomach every week. He has since switched to rubbing gel on his shoulders. So his voice has lowered, and he’s a little hairier than before.
Top surgery is coming, as soon as we can figure out an affordable option with our health insurance. And a legal name change is in the near future.
___
It must be a scary moment, that “egg crack.” And choosing to live a new life, untested, shedding an identity that has been precast; well … who among us could be so brave? It makes me wonder how many of us just settle, living a life of mediocrity, never reaching our full potential?
I think the timing of our son’s coming out has certainly helped ease the transition for all of us. Starting college is like starting over, with a whole new set of friends in a brand new environment. His classmates, many of them from the LGBTQ+ community, all see him for whom he is.
A heartfelt email from my son to the grandparents was well received. And while there has been plenty of fumbling with pronouns, there has also been plenty of family love and support.
___
So what’s left to say?
I think only that, as a parent, as a dad, I thought my number-one job was to teach my children well, to prepare them for the world. But I hadn’t counted on that world changing. And now I realize that my kids are teaching me. How to be bold. How to accept differences. How to forgive. How to love.
So Son, if you’re listening, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am. Proud of all you’ve accomplished. And I’m looking forward to seeing how brightly you shine.
