The Grief of Having a Trans Child

My mixed emotions and thoughts as an LGBTQ+ ally parent

I am mother to an amazing kid.

Assigned female at birth, but — cheeky as he is in all things — he let me know he doesn’t do assigned seating.

I’ve always been an ally. I’ve always surrounded myself with unique people who are authentically themselves, despite what the majority deems traditional. And though I am a cis woman with what may be deemed a very, um, basic aesthetic, I’ve never held much stock in fitting in.

I pride myself in being a mother who does not live vicariously through her children, or see them as an extension of herself. They’re autonomous human beings who I happened to manufacture, yes. But it’s always been important to me to lay a foundation not rooted in indoctrination, but in strong critical thinking skills.

For example, I haven’t been religious in many years. However, I am from Mississippi, arguably the most religious and ignorant and most definitely poorest state. I did not want to make my children’s mind up about what, if anything, they believed about religion.

I allowed them to attend church with family when THEY wanted to. When they decided they didn’t want to go any longer, I didn’t let anyone force them. I taught them not to make knee-jerk decisions, half-cocked on partial information, but to take in all sides of any argument and use logic to make up their own minds.

And damn, I did a great job because I can hardly win an argument anymore.

My long-winded point here is: it may surprise a lot of people to know how grief-stricken and conflicted I felt when my child came out to me as trans.

As an ally, I’d never had a fraction of negative emotion concerning anyone else’s preferences. You may wonder why, then — if I was truly an ally and as open as I claim — would I feel anything but happiness for my baby becoming who they were meant to be?

And this is the part that I think people should hear that I’m not seeing often made clear from a parent’s perspective. This is because, at first glance, it may appear transphobic in nature. In my case (I’m not saying every case), it’s much more complex.

So why would a non-transphobic, LGBTQ ally parent have such an adverse and upset reaction to learning their child is trans?

Explaining to the best of my ability, first and foremost I was hurt because I realized my child was hurting.

That this body — the body I made with my body, the body I rocked and held and dressed and kissed its fat cheeks — was so perfect to me.

Yet, to my child who means the world to me, this body caused grief. This body caused heartache and dysphoria and even suicide ideation.

Intellectually, I knew this had less than nothing to do with me. But emotionally, I was distressed.

Is this my fault, that my child hates their body? Did I fail to give my child confidence to love themself? Did I not instill enough body positivity, or possibly did I complain about my own form too often, causing my baby to question theirs?

How could my child hate what I thought so amazing and perfect, and what could I have done to make my baby love themself as I had always loved them?

It wasn’t just about the fact that I’d always seen perfection there; it was the pain and turmoil that my kid not only didn’t see perfection, but literally saw their physical body as their biggest obstacle in life.

It was the pain the body caused them, that also pained me.

Honestly, it still does.

The second wave of grief came not from what was, but what would never be.

All those images in my head of what our relationship would look like. Prom dresses and manicures and wedding gowns. If I’m being honest and had been paying attention, I’d have known none of those things were going to happen — not in that cookie-cutter way — regardless.

This grief was much easier for me to get over. This year I helped him dress in his matching white tux to go with his boyfriend to prom, and I bawled my eyes out. Not out of sadness, but with happiness that he was so happy, and because he is so freaking cute.

Now, I’m left with the third wave of sadness and grief. And it all stems from the fact that there’s a great big world out there that I can’t fix for him.

He’s in danger just by walking down the street. He’s in danger just by existing. And I live with the fear that some horrible person will attempt to end my child’s life out of ignorance and hatred. Someone who doesn’t know or doesn’t care that his favorite thing in the world is kittens. Or that he makes sure his little sister gets on and off the bus safely every day, even though he pretends he can’t stand her. Or that even though he calls me by my first name to his friends, when no one is listening he still calls me Momma.

Given the murky political waters of late, that fear isn’t going away anytime soon. It is growing.

So I hope sharing my own struggles with a child coming out as trans may help other parents in similar situations understand they’re not alone. It’s okay to have complex and even mixed, conflicting emotions to sort through. It is a process. For them, and for us.

And I hope any trans person struggling with understanding their parents’ feelings may benefit. Because not everyone will deal with difficult emotions the same. It may look like grief; it may look like denial, or even rage. But it also may help to know that sometimes those ugly emotions stem from softer ones. Not everyone is able to articulate or manage such a tidal wave of intense, deeply personal emotions.

You are worthy.

You shouldn’t have to deal with disrespect or rejection of your true self. That’s not okay. But if your parents love YOU, not their idea of who you SHOULD be, but YOU — don’t give up. They may need more time than you thought, but true love always wins.

As for myself, I’m an imperfect person just trying to do the best I can, like the rest. I don’t always get it right, and I have and will most likely fail my children again at some point — not intentionally, but because that’s the nature of being human. We’re prone to errors and mistakes. None of us, no matter how well-intended, are spared from that singular truth.

However, for anyone struggling with an unsupportive family, country, world — I want to let you know that YOU ARE WORTHY. And just like MY SON is still perfect, so are YOU. ❤

If you found this article helpful or relatable, please consider recommending or follow me to come along on this journey my transteenage son is taking, with all my love and support in tow. Thank you kindly. :)

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