Parenting Made Me Brave

Guest Post by Kassia Finn, Mother of a Trans Son

Most of the meaningful things I've done in my life, I've done scared. I am anxious by nature (and some nurture), so most everything I do begins with spiraling with imposter syndrome and thoughts of not being good enough until finally getting to the point of reminding myself that I can do hard things (thanks Glennon), that it's ok to fail, and that there are people in my life that are willing to catch me if I fall and help me pick up the pieces. Parenting is the biggest of all life's meaningful decisions, but I wasn't scared because I thought I was prepared.

I started officially babysitting at 12 and was drawn to babies and little kids long before that. I babysat, nannied, worked in daycares and preschools, and had a good friend who was an elementary teacher and had three kids of her own throughout middle and high school. Parenting is the hardest job I've ever had and I went in more prepared than most. I knew if I didn't carry babies I'd adopt and maybe even do both. However I was to become a mother, it was as if my soul knew the souls I would get to care for were the ones I was meant to. Whatever happened in life I was meant to go through for and with my babies.

I had wanted to wait until they were born to find out the sex, but with all the ultrasounds and the uncertainty of a high-risk pregnancy we decided to find out. I was growing a girl. I questioned that because I really felt I was having a boy, but the tech was sure and the visual evidence was compelling. The gifts were pink, the names were feminine, and my anxieties for my child's life mirrored my own. Would she be safe around men? Would she be coerced into sex for the first time by an older man when she was not yet in high school? Would she be taken advantage of at the car mechanics for being a woman? Would she struggle with her weight and disordered eating like I did and do? Worry if she's oversharing all over the internet? I did not want the traumas I endured and the worries I carry to shape my relationship with my child nor did I want my hang ups to be passed down to her. So, I slowly, but determinedly began to work. I worked through (with the help of numerous therapists and friends) many of my past traumas in hopes of passing as few poor coping mechanisms down as possible. The work is never ending and much like an Ogre, I too have oniony layers. Just when I think I'm almost to the core, here comes another stinky layer to work through. Working on such healing while having children is not the easiest timing. But it can be done because the motivation is right in your face all the time. Even at night when you think they're asleep, but they sneak into your room and stare at you in the dark. I digress.

My tiny baby left the NICU and turned into the most fun and creative kid. When we were home, she was brave, physical, funny, and so sweet. But when we would meet other people there was an alarming hesitation. Refusing to let go of my hand, hiding behind me or her little sister, wanting to go home as soon as other kids came to play even just near her. She was a late talker and couldn’t explain to me what was going on, but I knew something wasn’t okay. Something was stopping this amazing soul from being who they were meant to be. When it was left to her, she would only choose "boy style" clothing, toys, shows, etc. Her baby sister was just 16 months younger and loved (still does) all things girly. Two kids, same parents, same toys, same shows, same clothing options, same, same, same, and yet so different. At around three she asked me "when will I get my penis?" I began to explain, as I had already, that different bodies have different parts. Babies who are female have a vulva and babies who are male have a penis and those babies grow up into adults like Mom and Dad. Now I know that isn't a correct answer scientifically, culturally, or otherwise and certainly wasn't what that child needed to hear, but I was doing my best with what I knew then. We didn't know the term transgender in our house yet, so my goal was much more to make her feel okay with being different. With being a 'tomboy.’ We were also looking into an autism diagnosis which made things like the reason behind clothing choices more complicated. Many fabrics used for feminine clothing are itchy or tight and don't have pockets so of course she'd rather wear comfy shorts with big pockets for all the rocks one could collect on a short walk and soft cotton tees with no tags. You can’t tell me Adam Sandler doesn’t look hella comfy. Were these choices being made because of a gender diverse or a neurodiverse brain? Or both? Or neither?

Time went by and not much changed. She liked all things “boy” and Baby Sis was all girl. I remember sitting in the living room quite pregnant with my third baby reading to Baby Sis while she was in the playroom loft drawing on the chalkboard easel. "Hey mama, after the buh, buh, B how do you spell boy?" asked her little 4-year-old voice from above me. "B. O. Y." I replied and went back to reading. Later that day I was picking up in the playroom and found a drawing on the chalkboard. A picture of a stick figure with a triangle dress and long hair and a big frown. There was even a tear on her face. Under the picture was written "GIURL". An arrow pointed from the "GIURL" to another stick figure child that had a big smile that had been labeled "BOY.” That was a long night of internet learning about what gender is, how and when it is formed, and how I can best support my child who is telling me they are something other than a girl in boy style clothing. The next day I asked her if it would feel better if I introduced her to people as a boy and if I said he instead of she when talking to and about them. The answer was "maybe..." and a shy, but sure grin. From him.

I was scared the first day we used male pronouns and a boy name in public. I was scared of the push back from friends, family, and strangers. I was scared that in the small town in the red state we lived in that not only would we get questions; we could get hurt. That scared anxious mom was gone after the first time we went to the playground and used a boy name. It was easy to let friends and family go after seeing my child’s pain turn to joy with the simple change of a word. It was clear after that first day that this was the right thing to do for my kid. She went from being shy and hiding behind their little sister to introducing HIMself to new people and having to pry him away from his "new friends" wherever we went. The confirmation I got that we were on the right track was from the immediate change in this kid's demeanor. And that hasn’t faded in the over ten years since we made the switch to male pronouns. He had always been insistent, consistent, and persistent in the way he made it clear that he was a boy. A boy who just happened to have been born in a body with a vulva instead of a penis. A boy that changed my life in so many ways. We all know parenting changes you. But parenting a LGBTQIA2S+ kid is especially life changing. If you let it be that is.

I let it change me. As scary as it was to lose people, I thought we’d have in our lives forever it was a great pruning. The more time has gone on the people who love our family have more than made up for the few we lost. I let the fact that I know my child best be the catalyst to my confidence and determination to beat the anxiety down so I could be the mama bear he needed. There was no part of the old me that I would want back. I tried to be a good Christian wife, homeschool the kids, blindly support my husband, and be meek and mild. I knew my marriage was not what I wanted for myself and the version of me within that marriage was not who I wanted to be for my kids. Those who know me now can’t imagine that version of me. I feel deep sadness for that old me. For the pressure I put on myself to be someone I wasn’t. To believe things I just didn’t. To allow things I’d never want my children to endure. Thankfully as I got to know my kid, I also got to know myself. That old version felt wrong because it was. Not unlike a trans person trying to fit into a cis world, I was queer and accepting and trying to fit into a heteronormative and exclusionary world. I knew both my son and I needed queer and trans role models to help us in our coming out.

The stories I could find about trans people online were not usually positive and uplifting. Not the hopeful stories I needed to help shape my image of my child's possible future. I found a local Gender Alliance Group that was meant for people who identify as trans or gender diverse, but thankfully the leader of that group was kind enough to let me stay that first day and come back the next week. Being around real live transgender grownups who had lives and loved ones was the greatest gift. Many had difficult coming out stories, but the joy they found when expressing their truest selves was so beautiful it took my breath away. I wanted my child to meet all of these amazing humans so he'd have visuals and role models that he could look up to. I have learned so much from my trans friends about how to be a human. I’m forever thankful I was allowed to stay in that first meeting. Getting to where we are hasn’t always been easy. Those are stories for another post. There have been many times that the old me would have been anxious and scared throughout the last ten or so years. Thankfully anxiety loses its power when you’re fighting for something you know deep down is right. I would like to have less to fight for though. I wish more of the old white cis men of the world would take a moment to listen to and spend time with trans people before proposing or voting on anti-trans laws. Except for Caitlyn Jenner. Don't listen to her. She may be trans, but she is NOT an ally.

My baby is in high school now and is out to most of his friends. He likes school, is part of the theatre department, and what makes me most proud is just how deeply kind he is. He is experiencing everything any other teenager goes through. Relationships and breakups, fights among friends, crushes, excitement and overwhelm thinking of the future, and all the angst a parent of a teenager can expect. Thankfully he dresses a little better than Adam Sandler now. Baby Sis is still just as girly as ever, is a good friend, and is a strong ally. As a family we go to rallies and have all testified in front of the state legislature against anti trans bills. My third kid is a wonderful non binary/gender fluid human that knows they have all our support no matter if or where they land in the rainbow alphabet. I create and facilitate trainings for organizations that cover all things gender and sexuality and the best practices for caring for the trans population in particular. I currently work in a health organization where in addition to my expected duties, I make sure to do all I can behind the scenes to fix things that make coming to the doctor hard for trans folks. Like having their name and pronouns correct on their chart and assisting them in choosing a provider that is knowledgeable in trans healthcare. Being able to help make a safer world for trans individuals feels like my calling. Amplifying trans stories and experiences is always my goal. There are still parts of parenting that scare me, but it’s easier to squash the anxiety thanks to the mama bear who is always just under the surface ready to take on whatever foe tries to hurt my cubs. And those cubs include all trans kids. Oh, and I was quite scared when I told my now ex I wanted to stop going to church and later that I wanted a divorce. But I wasn't scared when I fell in love with and married that Gender Alliance Group leader.