Dear Old Soul who Worries Every Night about Their Transgender Child

Dear Old Soul,

Every parent takes on the mantle of worrying, of wondering. What will this child need? What will they ache for? What passion will fuel their life and what heartbreak is coming? 

One small comfort (and thorn!) of parenthood is recognizing yourself in your little one. It's so easy to forget the intricacies of childhood as we get waterlogged by bills, schedules, another christmas, another trip to the dentist. 

But the minute our child tells us that Nora in their first grade class spread a rumor about them

. . .  Snap! 

Back we go. We remember. We remember tears stinging our eyes and our faces going hot. We remember the bottomless pit feeling of betrayal. We remember that first realization: “Maybe not everyone can be trusted.” 

And hopefully, we use these connections to empathize and connect with our children. Reminding them that they are not alone. This is one of the sacred callings of parenthood. To tell our children: “I’ve been there, I’ve felt your pain, and I will stand with you as you grow from it.” 

But you, parent of a transgender child, you are in new waters. Your child is experiencing things that you haven’t and likely will not. All the googling in the world cannot tell you what it’s like to be trans.

And it shouldn’t. Gender is so much more complex, beautiful, angsty, puzzling, and expansive than could ever be summed up in a Quora response. 

And so, you worry. Worry that you’re missing something. Worry that you have no guidance to offer. Worry that you’re gonna mess it up, hurt your child beyond repair. 

The worry is compounded by a culture that does not understand how to support trans children. So much of the advice ranges from not helpful to harmful. Most of it is soaked with blame. 

“You did this. You support too much. You don’t support enough. You need to shut it down. You need to take legal and medical action today.” 

And yet, when I imagine you, awake at 2am fretting about what your child will wear to the prom in 12 years, I am flooded with compassion and joy. 

Oh, old soul! It is so clear that this worry is fueled by love. Vast, surging, relentless love. Love that could fill every ocean. Love that could illuminate the Eiffel Tower. Love that could write 1000 books of poetry and still have more to say.

This is the way forward. 

Worry and endless internet chatter can be your undoing. 

Love and humility will be your guides. 

Love has many etymological roots, but I am drawn to the German luibi, meaning, simply, joy. 

Humility comes from the latin humilis meaning on the ground. 

Joy on the ground. What could this look like? 

Letting your child choose their clothes this morning. Correcting the administrator at the doctor’s office when they misgender your kid at their afternoon appointment. Relishing in their face when they announce their name for their evening Zoom call with Grandma.

Seeing them laugh, play, revel in all of themselves both completely entwined and separate from gender. 

Joy on the ground is not having all the answers. It is not predicting the future. It is paying attention to the pleasure of now without going rigid. Letting your child be the child and letting yourself just be.

This is your new life. 

I won’t bullshit you. Life on the ground is vulnerable. Nature proves it over and over again. It is exposure to the elements, exposure to predators. It is surrendering to cycles and seasons beyond our control. 

And (precious and!) life on the ground is connected. The oak trees use their roots to send water to their neighbors. The loons call out to warn each other of approaching foxes. The moose baptize themselves in their scent to say, “I’m here! Come find me!” 

In other words, you were not meant to do this alone. Building community with other parents of trans children is the best way I know to find joy on the ground.

You have wisdom to share, stories to tell, and hearts to hold. You are worthy of support and empathy, just like your child.

It’s normal for new connections to be daunting. The organization Transforming Families is a great place to start. 

Know that I am here, stomping my feet on the ground. Sending you a message through the vibrating earth . . . I see you . . . I see you. 

Yours in humility and joy, 

Shawny