My child came out as a trans woman at 28 years old. At first, I struggled to understand, but now I accept and love her.

• My kid came out as a trans woman at 28, and I struggled to use her new pronouns.
• Over a meal, she told me she wished I tried harder to use her correct pronouns.

In 2021, my 28-year-old kid came over for dinner and told me: "Mom, I'm a trans woman. I'm not getting hormones or surgery. I am living as the gender in which I should have been born. It's who I am."

I was confused. She had recently come out as bi, and I wondered what this new revelation meant.

"They're not the same categories," she said. "The difference is separating who you are from who you like. I feel most comfortable as a woman, and I'm attracted to someone based on who the person is, not their sexual identity. Kindness is a big factor."

I was relieved, weirdly. She'd made a concrete, valid decision. Everything else about her life at the time was in flux. She was in a destructive relationship with someone she knew she should leave but wasn't ready to. She didn't have a place to live or a plan for what she wanted to do with her life.

I accepted her instantly, but it would be a long journey before I fully understood her.

After she came out, I struggled to think of her as my daughter

"I'm not comfortable calling you my daughter yet," I told her.

She told me that it was all right and that she understood; she'd been my son for almost 30 years. She just asked that I call her Ruby and use the pronouns she/her in the company of people who know her as a woman.

I thought it was going to be hard to use different language to refer to my kid, but I was also happy because she was trying to change her life by becoming her true self. I accepted what she asked for because it was the first time I'd seen a smile on her face in many years.

Within a year of coming out as trans, she applied for an accessory-design program, got in on a scholarship, left her boyfriend, and found a place to live.

I took her out to celebrate her new life, but it didn't go as planned

To celebrate, Ruby showed up at the restaurant looking particularly beautiful. She'd shaved her beard and was wearing a simple, short black skirt; a matching shrug sweater; black leggings with subtle purple sparkling galaxies; and sandals she'd made.

After we were seated, Ruby said, "It's been two years since I've identified as a woman, and Mom, you forget to call me she/her and your daughter in public, and it gets me so angry."

She said that whenever I call her my son or use he/him pronouns, she wants to scream, and it makes her feel aggressive, which she hates.

I thought about her comment and obvious pain. She was right. I didn't always see her as a woman. I always saw her as my kid, who I loved with the ferocity of a lioness.

I realized I needed to prove my acceptance by paying better attention to pronouns and gender nouns.

When the waitress came to take our order, I said: "My daughter will have the seafood pasta, and can you please bring her a pineapple juice? I'll have the lobster roll."

I felt proud of myself for finally getting it right. Ruby seemed ecstatic and was clearly looking forward to the meal without the tension of being misrepresented.

As we exited the restaurant, I noticed a man smiling at us. It was the kind of look that said: What an interesting duo.

When we reached the sidewalk, I looked back to see the man and his family members' faces pressed against the window, staring at us. The children and their parents were pointing at Ruby and laughing. I hoped Ruby didn't notice. I hated that just being true to herself could make her life harder.

As we walked away, Ruby turned to me and said, "People often make fun or tease, or they turn their not knowing into fear, which often expresses that insecurity hatefully." Ruby had noticed the family making fun of her.

She said it's not worth fighting people over and that their ignorance is getting in the way of them trying to understand.

I now understand just how strong my daughter is

These days, Ruby and I are very close. She lives four blocks away from me, and we talk and text every day. Sometimes she runs over to give me something she made. It's amazing to see her so proud of herself.

My general hopes and dreams for her haven't changed; I just don't know how they'll manifest themselves in the future.