I Am Finally My Mom’s Transgender Daughter

Summary

The author recounts their journey of self-discovery and acceptance as a transgender woman, and the role their mother played in their life before and after coming out.

Abstract

The author shares a personal narrative about their experience growing up as a transgender individual in a 1950s household, where they were expected to conform to traditional gender roles. Despite facing punishment and societal expectations, the author maintained their identity, often using their mother's belongings to express their true self. The author took on traditionally feminine roles and responsibilities in caring for their mother in her later years, solidifying their role as the daughter she never knew she had. After their mother's passing, the author reflects on the significance of her jewelry box, symbolizing their mother's acceptance and the enduring bond they shared.

Opinions

The author expresses a critical view of the gender roles and societal norms of the 1950s and 1960s, particularly the portrayal of women in media and the misogyny of the era.
There is a sense of empathy for the author's mother, who is depicted as a young, bored housewife of the Baby Boomer generation, and for other women of that time who had to give up their careers.
The author reflects on their own experience with a sense of resilience and determination to embrace their identity despite the punishments and corrections they faced.
The author's relationship with their mother is portrayed with deep affection and appreciation, especially for the unspoken understanding and acceptance that seemed to develop over time.
The author's brothers are described as entirely absent and unsupportive in the context of their mother's care and passing, which underscores the author's role as the caretaker and true daughter figure.
The author's decision to keep their mother's jewelry box is symbolic of their connection to her and the personal significance of her acceptance, even if it was never explicitly stated.

I have always been the daughter that she never knew she had…

I was the middle child. For some reason in my family I was relegated to the chores and responsibilities of a daughter in the 1950’s binary world that I was raised. Maybe they sensed something they couldn’t identify about me. “Transgender” wasn’t a word or even recognized as a concept in that narrow world.

Until I was five, my playmates were pretty much limited to my brother who was three years older. His relationship with me alternated between resentment, bare tolerance and convenient punching bag. I was too young to know the difference and literally rolled with the punches for years.

My mom was the classic 1950’s stay at home mom. She was young, very pretty and bored. She gave up her career when she had my brother. The Baby Boomer generation had strict rules. Once the men got home from World War Two, the women had to go back to being dutiful housewives. That must have been a miserable experience for so many women.

I have watched endless 1950’s and 1960’s sitcoms and movies in absolute horror at the way women and their roles were portrayed, but they were a true reflection of society back then. The original STEPFORD WIVES is the epitome of that mind set. I become nauseous every time at the slavish and subservient perception of wives and disturbingly righteousness of the brutally misogynistic husbands portrayed in that movie.

I knew guys who thought it was a great movie.

From an early age I was into my mom’s stuff. It just seemed to be totally natural to me. I was regularly corrected and told to leave her stuff alone, but I was a very determined child. Correction eventually escalated to punishment. I remember spending many moments standing in the corner but I was not to be denied.

I became sneaky… or so I thought.

I would wear her nylons and use her make up thinking I was cleverly hiding my trail. I even tried on her wedding dress and her silk stockings. Clearly these are not the actions of a cisgender male, but back then they were not the actions of any male at all. I can only imagine my mother's thoughts and concerns back then. I can image my mom and dad huddling over what their baby son was doing, completely baffled.

I think that they felt that over time I would grow out of it.

I didn’t, I just got better at hiding. Over a lifetime I became an expert.

My mom passed away in the first wave of COVID in 2020. She was 92. I continued to act as the daughter she never had while I made sure she got to the doctors regularly, visited her during her numerous hospital stays, arranged supportive nursing care and nursing home, and arranged both her 80th and 90th birthdays.

Both my brothers were entirely useless.

When she died, I arranged her funeral and burial in the same plot with my dad. I then distributed her wealth per her will and shared her personal things with the family… but I kept her jewelry box. It was mostly costume jewelry by then because she had gifted the better pieces while she was still alive. I was glad she did.

For the last year or so, I left her jewelry box in storage. I finally took it out the other day. Every piece screamed my mother. Her taste was distinctively hers. I felt her in every piece and when I tried each on, I felt her hugging me. I felt her in my heart.

She finally knows that she has a daughter.

Emma Holiday

Thank you for reading my work.

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