It was three days before Christmas when my twenty-year-old son came out to me as a transgender woman. I was in the bedroom wrapping a gift. He came in and stood against the wall across from me while I was trying to cut wrapping paper.
Luckily, I don’t tend to be an overly reactive person, something that has manifested from a lifetime of relationships requiring eggshell walking. I said “okay” a lot. I tried to make it clear that I accepted her. I sought to communicate that my love for my child had not changed.
Everything I said was true, but I knew I needed space to do my own processing. My own transition had started.
I know the type of father I want to be, regardless of my child’s identity; loving and supportive, aware and sensitive. I want to see where I need to step forward and where I need to step back. Playing the “long game” with our relationship, focusing on the health and well-being of my daughter as played out across our lifetimes.