- I came out as
trans when my kids were 1 and 3 years old. - I was a tomboy growing up, and older people around me considered it just a phase.
I came out publicly as transgender in 2020 at the age of 36. My kids were 1 and 3, and my wife and I had been married for seven years. It surprised a lot of people, including me.
"I really thought I knew myself!" I would joke with people as I started the marathon of coming-out conversations, attempting to ease their shock. And in some ways it was true. Awakening to my transgender identity had initially blindsided me.
But eventually I realized this was not news to me. While I knew who I was at a very young age, that knowledge had been buried deep within me long ago. I knew that this is who I've always been, but it made me question when I lost touch with myself and why it took me so long to find that again.
It also made me realize that I need to be conscious of the way I parent my children and to allow them to be who they are meant to be, regardless of my expectations as their parent.
Growing up, I was considered a tomboy
As a child, I was a textbook tomboy: I had short hair, "boy" clothes, Micro Machines, and did every sport my parents would let me play.
Most of the adults in my life thought it was just a phase. I knew this because they either said it to me directly or said it to one another in my presence.
But it wasn't just a phase.
The explicit message that my appearance and behavior were "just a phase" conveyed the implicit message that they were somehow wrong and not normal. It often also held that kind of "bless your heart" pity: How cute was it that I was still a tomboy and hadn't yet figured out that there were rules and that I was breaking them.
The older I got, the more that message conveyed impatience. There's only so long a young person can absorb that kind of messaging.
I realized my job as a parent is to make sure my own dreams for my kids don't get in their way
So I buried who I knew I was. I grew my hair out and started to dress more like my older sister, desperately trying to figure out how to fit in with girls.
From the outside, it seemed like the phase was over. I could sense the relief of those adults around me. I was slowly finding my way to the norm, to what was expected of someone who had a body like mine.
I have a lot of grace and forgiveness for the adults in my life. Especially as a parent, I understand we are doing the best we can with what we have. The thing is, as parents, caregivers, guardians, coaches, and teachers, we all create expectations for the youth in our lives that are built on our preconceived ideas about who they are and the dreams we have for them. We do it out of love and excitement and hope, thinking we are guiding them toward what's best.
Still, the impact is often the same: shame at an inability to fit an expectation.
This is the realization that changed the way I parent.
My job is to make sure the dreams I create for my kids — no matter how beautiful they may seem — don't get in the way of their truth and their path. I must remember that those dreams are mine to let go of first, so my kids don't worry about letting me down. I want to witness and watch in awe as they become whoever they're meant to be.