LGBTQ+

My mother cried, tried to deny I was trans.

I was pretty shook. We didn't talk about it for a long time.

I realized, eventually, that in her career in the emergency room, she has met a bunch of trans women that were not at their best. Women who were in pain, addicted, off their hormones, injured by pimps or transphobic attacks.

She cried because she didn't want that for me. She hadn't met the women I had. The activists, artists, lawyers, and veterans that were so strong and proud and inspiring.

She only knew trans people experiencing the worst times in their lives. When they were at their sickest, their lowest, and their darkest mental state.

I moved forward with transition without her blessing. I found providers and began HRT. I changed my name and eventually, she came to understand it was real. Through it all, she insisted that she would always love me, and she found ways to express her love with actions as well as words. Now she introduced me as her daughter and has told me that if I need to move to a different state or even a different country, she will help me.

So the story has a happy ending. I do love my mother. I never stopped. And I am thankful she has come to affirm me as her daughter.

She and my dad separated when I was in high school. I barely speak to him, but he was totally cool with my transition, a pleasant surprise.