I worried my grandmother wouldn't accept my name change because I'm nonbinary. She showed me a side of her I never knew.

• As a queer, nonbinary person, I've had to come out to my grandmother several times.
• Each time, I worried I would push her away and ruin our close relationship.

I have a lot of experience coming out to my grandmother.

I first told her I was queer in 2016 on a break from college. We were having lunch at our favorite diner on the Upper West Side in Manhattan. She asked me if I was dating anyone, and I told her I had a girlfriend.

"Just women?" she asked. "Or men, too?"

I told her I was only dating women for now.

"Well, sex with men isn't all that great," my grandmother said. "It's not like you'll be missing much."

I laughed, delighted, and continued answering her questions while finishing my BLT. It wasn't until later that evening in my childhood bedroom that I started to cry tears of relief.

I was afraid coming out to my grandmother would harm our relationship

Growing up, I had always gravitated towards my grandmother because I felt she understood me. Maybe it's because we were both writers — or because we both had anxiety — but we were often on the same wavelength. She called us kindred spirits.

I had never admitted it to myself, but I had been afraid that coming out as queer to her would harm our relationship. My grandma is open-minded but, like many people her age, can be slow to change.

Her immediate acceptance was a pleasant surprise. Still, I never fully let go of that fear. Every time I cut my hair or got a new tattoo I wondered, would this be the moment I would push her away?

After realizing I'm nonbinary, I came out to my grandmother a second time

Over the COVID-19 pandemic, I realized I identified as nonbinary. In 2020, I decided to change my name, pronouns, and come out to my immediate family. Processing this internal shift was no small feat. When lockdown ended, I felt like an entirely different person.

Throughout the pandemic, my grandmother and I spoke on the phone multiple times a week, and keeping this change from her had been hard. I decided I wanted to tell her over the phone because we couldn't meet in person yet.

The next time she called, I explained my decision to come out as nonbinary. I told her my pronouns were now they and them and that I was changing my name to Kaden.

"So you want me to call you Cadence?" she asked.

"No, Grandma, Kaden, like Dad's middle name."

"Kaden, alright," she paused. "Do you think I should change my name too? I don't want you to get all the attention."

I laughed. "You could! I'll help you think of a new one. But I also just want to make sure you're alright with all of this. I know it may be a little confusing."

"Confusing?" she said. "Maybe remembering your name will be hard. I can't tell you what I ate for breakfast, but you'll always be you, Cadence."

"Grandma," I laughed. "It's Kaden!"

"Right! Kaden."

My Grandma's past experiences helped her understand my experience

Over the next few years, I had conversations I never expected to have with my grandma. Once the lockdown was over, I was able to introduce her to other gay and trans friends of mine. I told her about my transition, and she told me about how she got married young and gave up her dream of being a writer to be a stay at home mom.

One day during a visit at her apartment, my grandma told me about her aunt who lived on the Lower East Side.

"You know," she said, "she didn't have children, she did what she wanted. I lived in Harlem at the time with my parents and every time I went down there it was a whole new world. I don't regret my life, I had wonderful children and I have you, but I was never able to live that freely. I had to give up a lot. I never want you to give anything up. I want you to live your life the way you want to live it. Can you promise me that?"

I told her I could.

Though I wish I realized it earlier, I'm grateful that my coming out experience helped me understand that my anxiety about growing apart from my grandmother wasn't based on her actions, but on my own internalized fears.

In truth, because she grew up in the 40s and 50s, my grandma had an innate understanding of how conforming to societal expectations can be limiting. My grandma's age — which I first thought would hinder her ability to accept with me — allowed her to understand my journey in a way that others couldn't.

She still calls me Cadence, though.