There is a family that recently left our church. I knew them well enough to feel sad when they went. But then I heard a rumor. I heard that something was said about “the transgender kid” when they decided to leave. I don’t pretend to know the details, and I know how the church rumor mill can churn out dramatic misinformation, so I took all this with a grain of salt… until I recently ran into the mom at the dentist. When I said hello, she barely made eye contact and mumbled her reply, and that was all the confirmation I needed.
I wasn’t friends with these people, per se. Our kids got along. We chatted at coffee hour. She works at the school that my trans son attends, so we had some conversational common ground. She knew about my son’s transition. She had a lot of questions about it, and she wasn’t shy about asking. Maybe that should’ve been a sign, but I didn’t see it.
I’ve said before, when people ask questions and I feel like they’re sincerely trying to understand, I answer. I answer honestly and a little vulnerably and I pray that I’m speaking to someone who truly wants to understand. Today, that makes me feel naïve.
We’ve lived in this amazing bubble of support and encouragement. I’m not ignorant enough to believe that everyone supports our family. I’ve read the ‘comments’ sections on enough advocacy articles to know that there is indescribable vitriol (even, perhaps especially, toward children) around this issue.
So when I hear your comments about a ‘man in a dress’ or see your fear-mongering ‘bathroom bill’ memes with no basis in fact, I know what I’m up against. I can choose whether to educate or disengage. I know what I’m dealing with.
But in the context of friendly, curious conversation at an open and affirming church, I’m not ready. I’m not prepared with my ‘mama bear’ costume and my fierce advocacy. Sadly, I’m learning that I should be.
I’m going to admit something here. As with ALL parenting, none of us is equipped with an answer book. We don’t have the instruction manual for children, and we couldn’t ever develop one because all children are different. Those of us raising transgender children? We’re the same as you.
We have questions and fears and worries. We see our children through their joy and their sorrow. We recognize their beauty and individuality. We worry about them. We celebrate with them. We love them with a love that is fierce and unwavering. We call ourselves ‘mama bears’ and ‘papa bears.’ Those of us who are Christian believe that our children are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of God.
But there is something different about parenting children such as ours. In the general parenting community, there is room for questioning and doubt. There is room for exploration and uncertainty. Differences in opinion are abundant, but each person’s parenting experience is inherently validated by the conversation.
When you find yourself parenting a gender-variant (gender non-conforming, transgender, agender, non-binary, or any variation on the theme) child, you quickly realize that the validity of your experience as a parent is not assumed. You’re not given the benefit of the doubt, because….
– Maybe they really wanted a girl/boy.
– They must be hippie freaks.
– Someone just needs to lay down the law.
– Kids can’t make these kinds of decisions.
– Who is running things over there, anyway?
– Why can’t they just be gay?
– Biology is biology.
– They’re just trying to push their liberal agenda.
I could go on, but you get the point. Those of us parenting these ‘gender diverse’ children aren’t assumed to be competent or sane. Before we can engage in any conversation, we have to prove that we are rational, intelligent people. Then we can move on to explain that no one knows our children like we do. Once we’ve established these two things, we typically have to justify our decision to ‘allow’ our children to transition. Reasons such as, ‘she twice attempted suicide’ or ‘he’s been asking when he’ll get his penis since he could talk’ are generally accepted as valid. ‘She’s always loved dresses’ might convince some. ‘They’ve never identified as a boy or a girl. They prefer neutral pronouns’ will likely be scoffed at.
When parents of transgender children have doubts, we know better than to bring them out with us in public. We know what happens when WE seem uncertain. Our credibility is challenged. Our decisions get discredited. Our fear is exploited, and sometimes, our children are attacked. So we don our bear suits. We fight for our children to be treated with respect. We fiercely and passionately share the reality of loving someone so beautifully vulnerable. We fight and we beg and we demand. We stand by our decisions because NOBODY knows what is best for our children better than we do.
We are lucky enough to live in the age of the internet, and we’ve connected with each other. We know we are not alone. So we bring our fears and doubts, our ‘inappropriate’ questions, our grief, and our uncertainty to support groups- both online and in real life. In those spaces, we ask our hard questions and share our vulnerability. We share the science and question the research and pass along resources. We console the grieving and advise the questioning and generally help each other through this unique parenting experience. In those spaces, we’re assumed be sane, loving parents who just want the best for our children. Just like everyone else.
Our children are not a threat. Not in school, not in church, and not in a public restroom. Our children are beautiful, vulnerable, and unique. Just like yours.
