GirlyBoyMama's Open Salon Blog

The Scarlet Letter

Thu, 26 Apr 2012 15:04:21 -0400

The Scarlet Letter

My clammy hands gripped the steering wheel while I focused on restraining my foot from pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor. Breathe, I told myself. Relax. Deep breath in through my nostrils, taking in the bucolic beauty of our rural area. My throat was parched and my heart raced.

My destination was an ordinary office building on the side of the freeway; but my reason for going there was anything but ordinary. The building was the Superior Court and my reason for going there was to file the paperwork that would be the first step in the process for legally changing my child’s name and gender status. On this unremarkable day, I found myself doing something utterly life changing. I had understood that taking this step could be something we’d do eventually, but since Alex had switched schools and was being affirmed in her authentic gender, there appeared to be no discord. When we switched her schools, I had thought we would have a few years to regroup, relax, and settle into the new normal.

It felt like cinematic slow motion as my minivan careened down the freeway at 70 mph. As I passed the exit to the local hospital, I reflected on the day nearly nine years ago at 11 pm that my husband was taking that exit to welcome our first born. I remember feeling every contraction, the visceral experience of bringing new life into the world along with hope, joy, and pain.

Here I was, nine years later, feeling those same emotions, only it’s the next exit on the freeway. And those emotions are hitting me on a much deeper, spiritual, visceral level and dimension. It dawned on me that in a sense, I was again bringing a new life into the world. This time it was my daughter Alex.

An overwhelming bubble of emotion welled up in me. I wanted to let the tears of hope, joy, and pain pour forth, but I knew that I needed to present myself in a composed manner. It’s not every day that a parent files legal proceedings to change their child’s birth name and gender marker. I knew this. I also suspected that my actions and appearance had the potential of being judged as much as the content of our petition. Crying tears of joy and sorrow would have to wait.

The course of events leading up to this moment could only be explained as divine intervention. It came to light a few weeks before….

It was a Saturday evening, and we had a friend’s child, Liam*, over for a short playdate before we were planning on taking him and our own kids to the local gym that sponsors a twice monthly Parent’s Night Out. Liam had known Alex since the second grade prior to Alex’s social transition, when she went by her birth name and gender (male). After Alex’s transition, Liam was generally very accepting and did not participate in any of the teasing and ostracizing that went on at the school.

So it was that Liam, Alex, and her younger brother were playing in the family room.

“Alex, it’s time for you to change into your gym clothes,” I instructed. “We’re leaving in 10 minutes.”

“Ok, mom,” she replied quickly getting up and darting from the room. She ran straight to her room when I had thought she would be putting on her favorite blue velvet leotard and black yoga pants. After five minutes when she did not reappear, I went to her room and rapped gently on the door before opening it a crack. I noticed she was still in the process of changing. As she noticed me, she immediately covered her chest with her arms.

“Eeek! Close the door!” she cried. “Don’t let Liam see me naked!”

“He won’t,” I replied. “He’s in the family room playing.”

I’ve spent inordinate amounts of time reflecting on this simple exchange. It was a very natural, ordinary conversation that one would expect from a parent and daughter. And yet, somehow it solidified something in my mind that, while I have accepted unconditionally and have never doubted, I think I needed to witness first-hand—Alex’s authentic self shining through.

As if this wasn’t enough to light the fire under my bottom, there was to be yet another series of events that would indicate to me that the time was right to make Alex’s name and gender status official.

“Hi, sweetie!” I greeted Alex one Monday after school. “How was STAR testing today?” I knew that it was the first day of the standardized test.

“Oh it was fine,” she replied hastily. “But how come there was an ‘M’ on my test?”

The question caught me totally off guard, but it only took a few seconds to realize that she was referring to the gender marker labeled on her test.

“Ohhhhhh, thaaaat,” I stammered. I had not the foggiest notion of how to respond to this question. Attempting to buy some time, I deflected the question with another inquiry.

“So, just curious… what was the name on your test?”

“Alex,” she replied.

“Hm, ok. So they managed to put the right name, even though it’s not your birth name on there,” I reasoned.

“Why did it say ‘M’? I thought you were going to change my gender, too,” she persisted. A few weeks prior, we discussed with her the complicated legal process for changing one’s gender marker and name on official documents. I can only imagine that in her 8 year old mind, somehow she must have thought that since we discussed it, it would suddenly, magically just be a done deal.

“Uh, well, yeah, about that…,” my reply trailed off. I am rarely caught off-guard, but this time I was left speechless. I felt that I had in some way failed my child. Not in a major or devastating way, but in a way that I needed to prove we as her parents could follow through and may the situation “right” for her.

It was a simple, but clear indication that in that moment, reality was a-knockin’ and now it was up to me to open the door.

That very evening, I sent an email to Alex’s psychiatrist requesting an affidavit affirming Alex’s new gender. It was this singular document that held the key to unlocking that door.

Alex’s doctor replied to my email with a scanned and signed statement in email the following Monday. He closed his email with “I’m glad you’re doing this for Alex.” Those were some powerful words of support and encouragement and that affirmed to me that we were taking the appropriate steps for her.

By now, we had not only started thinking about the legal transition for Alex, but it was also on our radar that puberty could be around the corner for her. We have long since understood that puberty for transkids can be a devastating time for them. When a transchild is skipping merrily along through life, integrating relatively well with their peers, and then suddenly his body betrays him and magnifies the wrong features.

Like any parent, I am not about to subject my child to any situation that would make her feel more different than she already does. For this reason, I had resolved to have Alex’s Puberty Dream Team in place well before there would be any urgent need to act.

April 24^th marked an important day for us. It was the day that Alex met the endocrinologist, Dr. Rosenthal, who would someday be treating her for puberty suppression. Although I had scheduled this appointment several months prior, it just so happened to land at a time when so many other signs were illuminating Alex’s authentic self.

“Next!” the clerk said.

I stepped up to the counter nervously. Hands cold and clammy. I handed her the manila envelope containing the documentation I had so carefully prepared. Two copies of everything. Physician’s affidavit on letterhead – check. Civil cover sheet indicating our reason for filing the petition: NAME AND GENDER CHANGE – check. Order to Show Cause (whatever the hell that is) – check.

My thoughts raced.

She’s going to reject it. I’ve forgotten something. She thinks I’m a batshit crazy mother, living on a commune, and forcing her child to change her child’s gender of all things!

I breathed deeply through my nose and focused on getting through the moment. After a several minutes of watching the clerk sort, stamp, resort, staple, pile various permutations of the carefully stacked and sorted papers I had handed her, she handed me one of the stamped pages on which she had written a case number.

“Well, it all looks good. Everything’s here,” she said with a cursory smile.

Is she on my side? I wondered.

“You can check this web site the day before your hearing to find out the judge’s ruling,” she said.

“Ok, great,” I replied in my most calm and collected way.

Is that it? I wondered. Could it really be this easy? What am I missing?

As I got back into my car and headed back to work to continue my day at my 9-to-5 job, I carefully, slowly, and cautiously allowed the feelings of joy and elation wash over me. Down came those tears that were once so meticulously held at bay, welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision, and then deliciously streaming down my cheeks.

I know our journey has only begun, but so far, the sun is shining on our lives. Thank you, Universe!

The Power of a Common Experience

Sat, 7 Jan 2012 12:01:19 -0500

From time to time, I receive lovely messages of support and encouragement through this blog from people who are either transgender themselves or are supporting a person who is. I enjoy this kind of connection as it somehow personalizes the whole experience to me even more. The messages from adult transgender people are often heartbreaking and speak of severed family relations, isolation, and even those still living in their birth genders because they simply can’t reveal themselves to the world. As a parent, when I hear stories like that, I become more dedicated than ever to ensuring that not only will that NOT be my child’s story, but to try to represent our story in an semi-anonymous way in order to offer a commonality of experience with other parents. By and large, I would say that the feedback I have received has been overwhelmingly supportive and positive. Believe me when I say that I deeply appreciate all the kind words and they are truly what give me the foundation and strength to keep on keepin’ on.

Speaking of commonality of experience, I like to think of myself as someone who actively seeks it out. I try to make every effort to not focus on differences between people, but rather to find the common interest, value, experience, or condition that brings people together in understanding. My hope and intention for this blog has always been to share my experience of the evolution of my own transgender child with a faction of the population who may have never heard of it or dealt with it via a means that most people can relate to: parenting.

However, saying all that, there has been one difference that I have been silently reflecting on for some time now, that has me deeply divided on the best path for raising awareness in the general population about transgenderism. It is the difference in perspective between transadults and transkids. Now don’t get me wrong—I am deeply grateful for the progress we have made as a culture toward the acceptance of transgendered people, which is due in large part to the brave trans activists who have put their lives and livelihoods at risk in an attempt to normalize the condition for the adults of today and to pave a trail for the youth of tomorrow. I am also deeply grateful to the families of transyouth who have exposed their families and risked so much in the name of progress, awareness, and understanding. The sacrifices that these people make should not be underestimated. For a family to out their child publicly, that is a generous gift and the ultimate sacrifice in the name of a greater good. On a personal level, what I really want to know is what happens in those families’ communities after the TV cameras have left. Do they receive hate mail? Are they shunned by people in their community? Or do they go on to become the Grand Marshall at their local parade? I want to know: what does giving this gift personally mean to them? Knowing this, I believe, will help other families step forward and tell their own stories. And the more stories that are out there, the more normalized it will become and the more accepted our children will be.

It is curious to me how—for transadults—the sexuality piece is tightly interwoven into the whole experience and is often awkwardly depicted in film and media. While it certainly satisfies a curious onlooker’s morbid fascination about what the sexual nature and underworld of many transgender people are, I think this type of exposure only serves to further pigeonhole transgendered people as a select group of individuals who are living an uncommon experience. In my mind, it does nothing toward casting light on transgenderism in a “common existence.”

Last night I watched Gendernauts: A Journey Through Shifting Identities (available for free streaming on Netflix) which introduced several FtM and MtF transgender people allowing viewers to get an inside peek into these peoples’ lives, to discover how they fit into our everyday lives, and to ultimately realize that they are us. Unfortunately, it seemed that at some point, it turned to sex and how the expression of it manifests in the trans community—and that’s where I took a “left turn at Albuquerque.” I understand that sex is integral to every human being’s experience, and that for people who have finally found the freedom to express their true inner selves, it can be cathartic and an experience that they would want to embrace and share with others. But remember, at the end of the day, I am still a parent. Someone who needs to constantly shelter and protect her children, whether trans- or cis-gendered. As a mother, I must set the filter to “high” when it comes to what my kids are exposed to.

There were many individuals in this film who fascinated me, but I became particularly intrigued by a woman named Sandy Stone. Sandy, a transgender woman, had such insight and wisdom, that there were times that I had to pause the video so that I could fully absorb what she was saying. Truly grounded in her perspective, I understood that it was very much in line with my own perspective on transgenderism, which is: we live in such a binary world, that before we can even have a discussion on transgender people, we need to first open our minds and acknowledge all the different possibilities and variations that nature provides.

At one point in the film, she talks about the nuances in speech patterns between men and women. She proceeded to demonstrate a transformation of her feminine speech and demeanor into masculine ones. I was left absolutely speechless and found myself in a very uncomfortable space just watching this video. Before our very eyes, this woman essentially shape-shifted and went from being someone who acted, presented, and sounded like a woman, to being a man with long hair wearing women’s clothes mid-sentence. Talk about a mind fuck. It left me feeling unnerved and questioning myself about where I really am on the path of acceptance. Although it was uncomfortable, I enjoyed how her demonstration was able to touch me at a deeper level so quickly and profoundly. I love that kind of thing.

Later on in the film, there is some footage of a drag show in a nightclub. I scratched my head in wonder and asked myself if I thought I would ever find myself in one of these places. While it looked like everyone was having a great time and it was all good fun, I have to say that it was not something I thought I would likely find myself doing. That is to say, these types of shows are really for a specific population of people. While I’m so glad they’re there and that people enjoy them and share a common bond and experience with each other, I do take a little issue with the fact that they’re presented in a video that is intended to inform the general population about transgenderism. If people saw this footage and used it to base their newly forming judgments on, I would be worried that it was sending out the wrong message.

Last summer at the Gender Spectrum family conference, there was similar type of show (but apparently “cleaned up” for family viewing) during the evening. Alex and I went and watched it with many other families. While I enjoyed it, I have to admit that it felt a bit awkward. Imagine: here we are as families from all walks of life, with all kinds of backgrounds and histories, but our common experience is FAMILY. At the end of the day, I am still the mother of a child who is learning about the world and am making every effort to normalize her experience in it. The show was certainly entertaining, but I can’t say that I agree with the decision to use the conference as a venue. What’s more at odds is that the performers were actually well-known in the community, so it was truly a privilege to have them there. But I have to believe that kids want to see real people. Moreover, real people fitting in to society, not standing up, and out, onstage.

~ &# 26A7;~

Yesterday as we were making our commute home through bucolic countryside, Alex asked, “Mommy, why is that cow jumping on that other cow’s back?” It was such an innocent question, but so, so very loaded.

All I could think was, “Really, Alex? You’re 8 and you don’t know about the birds and the bees? Don’t your friends ‘talk’?”

“Uh,” I paused trying to quickly navigate my way through this one. “That is how baby cows are made. It’s called the ‘birds and the bees’.”

“Really? Oh wow. I didn’t know that,” she answered matter-of-factly.

This short exchange was further confirmation that she doesn’t need to see strap-on cocks hanging out of a performer’s pants or drag queens coated in white makeup to understand her place in our society. What she really needs are real people like Sandy Stone setting the record straight about transgenderism. She needs positive role models who set an example of how very normal transgenderism is in every day life. After all, the transgender youth of today are the transgender adults of tomorrow. It’s the Joppes and Kim Petrases of today who add color to the human spectrum and further define our transforming world. And if there’s one thing I want Alex to understand at a deeper, spiritual level is that there really is a place for her in our everyday world.

Alex Has a Hero and Her Name is Joppe

Fri, 6 Jan 2012 02:01:26 -0500

Recently another parent of a transchild shared a link to a short documentary that was going to be shown an a local film festival. I previewed it first before showing Alex. After doing so, I knew it would resonate with her.

I am always curious to know what she thinks when she sees or hears these types of stories, so I asked.

"I liked it. She's pretty and it looks like she has a nice life."

I could tell by her demeanor that it made her happy to see someone like her living a very normal, happy, and secure life where she is accepted as any other girl. I sensed that it brought her immense hope, that someday she will be a girl like Joppe.

Today, I mentioned the film again, and Alex said, "I've been thinking about that film all day."

"Oh yeah? What'd ya think?"

"That she is lucky. She has a good life. She has friends and is pretty."

For my own part, Joppe has proven with grace, insight, and wisdom that transkids DO have a very important place in society. Her place just happens to be that of hero and role model for my own child.

I can't seem to embed the video but it's here.

Alex Affirmed (and Other Great Moments in Herstory)

Sun, 18 Dec 2011 18:12:05 -0500

In the past few months, we’ve really come a long way. I have always known our journey would take twists and turns, and while I consider myself open and flexible to changing course in my life, I guess I hadn’t really prepared for the agonizing decisions we would have to make and downward spiral of events that occurred in those first few weeks and months at the start of Alex’s third grade year.

I think the trouble started when a friend at work told me that she was considering switching her preschooler to a different one in the area. As both my kids were out of preschool, I thought back to the many we had sent our kids to—mainly because Alex had put them all through the wringer with her behavioral issues. Thinking back on the schools that I liked –and those I didn’t—I decided to look them up on Yelp. I came to discover that the one I loved, a Montessori, had not yet had any reviews written on it. So I wrote a glowing review that mentioned bucolic settings and freedom for children to explore their world. Then, I looked up the school that we didn’t have a good experience at—the one whose parents flipped out and demanded my child be kept away from there when Alex tried to kiss him. The one that my then infant baby came home lethargic one day and then the next day, threw up a metal “D” ring. The one, I later found out, whose Director was acting “less than professionally” and spread gossip and rumors about me (for God knows what purpose). So, finding it my civic duty to warn others about this establishment, I wrote a less than stellar review about the school (excepting the teachers, who were actually phenomenal). And that’s when the proverbial fit hit the shan.

I guess I either didn’t take it into account that some of my Facebook friends have children at that school (or rather, thought that anyone would read my Yelp review or if they, would have the maturity to realize that it was only my experience and am perfectly within my right to share that experience on Yelp), but whatever the case may have been, I was publicly skewered by someone I had been acquainted with for several years, since the time both our 3^rd graders were attending that school.

From that point, things started getting really weird at school and with life in general. People unfriended me on Facebook. People stopped talking to me and avoided me at school functions. But worst of all, Alex was losing friends and being ostracized at school.

In the midst of all this, her teacher’s own beliefs began to emerge and he let me know in no uncertain terms that it was his opinion that we were indulgent, permissive parents who were completely snowed by a child who was fabricating a gigantic ruse all for the purpose of getting attention. Incredulous, I asked for clarification.

“So, let me get this straight. Are you suggesting that Alex is only pretending to be a girl in an effort to get attention from adults?”

“Yes, that is what I’m saying,” he replied.

“Why on EARTH would ANYONE choose this as a way to get attention?” I asked barely holding back my fury. I truly could not believe that he would have the balls to suggest such a thing. Thank goodness it was a phone call, otherwise, I am sure I would have done something that I would later regret.

“Oh, there are LOTS of reasons,” he had the balls to reply.

“Are you fucking KIDDING ME!? So you think my kid is wearing dresses, telling everyone she’s a girl, and just generally acting in a feminine way as some kind of joke? As a lie?” It was at this precise moment when I realized what a dire situation we were in.

To recap: my daughter was sent to school every day, to a hostile environment who refused to acknowledge her for who she was telling the world she is, where friends had abandoned her left and right, where parents had instructed their kids to stay away from Alex, where the teacher himself called her MISTER Alex and for the life of him, could not get the pronoun right even though he spent more time around Alex than others who at least tried to use it correctly.

It hit me that all day, every day Alex was exposed to repeated, incessant questioning of her very self. In a best case scenario, that would make anyone anxious and insecure, but you couple that with a child who has other behavioral stuff going on, and that is a recipe for disaster.

During this time, we had been working with an attorney at the ACLU who was in contact with the district regarding allowing Alex the same privileges all other children were provided at the school—that is, to use the appropriate restroom and not be sanctioned to the nurse’s office because they could not figure out what to do with “her kind”. Conversations with her teacher and the principal only proved to further fuel my fury when it was said that they “could not allow it because it would be offensive to others at the school and would anger other parents.” It was also during this time that I was intent like never before to demand Alex’s equal treatment and I went so far as to promise to Alex that come Hell or high water, she would be using the girl’s bathroom by the end of the year.

To say that the ignorance of the entire school district was astounding is a ridiculous understatement; but I truly had no idea at just how far behind in understanding our issues they were. Feeling daunted and overwhelmed, I couldn’t help but realize that in the center of all this was my child—Alex. She would put on a brave face every day, and face the people who ostracized her, who questioned her, and even the people who supported her but felt it Alex’s duty to educate others. When our attorney informed us that the district would still not agree to adopt policy to protect the rights of LGBT students, and that they might be willing to allow her access on a “trial basis” (excuse me? When was the last time anyone was granted civil rights on a trial basis?), that I realized the situation had reached critical mass in earnest. It became clear that the way forward in the current situation was to proceed with a sexual discrimination lawsuit against the school district. I weighed heavily the potential for being a part of ground-breaking progress for transgendered people and the cost for which it would be--essentially, Alex's childhood. We would have to prepare for the possibility of unwanted media attention, for the liklihood that it would make national news was there. I recalled every family of a transgendered child who has put their face in the media, and the risk and gift and sacrifice that presents. And in the end, I could not bring myself to do that. In the end, I recognized that my child's happiness was of paramount importance--even over a personal sacrifice in the name of progress. I quickly began to look for a backdoor option. With life or death urgency, I realized she had to get out of that school immediately.

There are a few times in our lives when the heavens and stars coalesce in such a way that proves another force is behind the Steering Wheel of Life. A time when timing and fortuitousness present themselves at that exactly perfect moment. Some call it the Law of Attraction or karma or an act of God. What happened over the course of the next two weeks was nothing short of a miracle for Alex.

We had located a school nearby that prescribed to the Montessori method (as mentioned earlier, the utopian preschool I wrote a glowing review on was a Montessori). It was a new school that was chartered directly through the state, and still in the process of recruiting enrollment but was quickly reaching maximum capacity. We met with the Director, and on November 2^nd, Alex began the next chapter in her journey.

I will not soon forget that poignant moment when she came home from school after the first day. With tears in my eyes, I asked “Well, did you use the bathroom today?”

“Yep! I did. I used the girls’ bathroom,” she proclaimed proudly. With that, I heaved a sigh of relief, releasing months and months of pent up anguish, anxiety, and frustration. I welcomed with excited anticipation what our new life free from the hyper-focused fixation on her gender issues. With a new door opened, I grew excited at the possibilities of all the ways we could spend our free time as a family and finally, after all this time, get on with the business of living a normal life. Suddenly, I found time in my life to explore and share and my interest in astronomy with my kids. We suddenly had more time in our lives for the dog that Alex had been begging for (Welcome, Barney-the Best Dog Ever!), In general, our lives became normal, and in that normalcy resides unity, peace, happiness, and affirmation.

Although Alex has found a haven of sorts, her struggles are far from over. Recently, she asked why the parents of her dearest friend since age 3 (whom she desperately longs to see and who desperately wants to see Alex) refuse to schedule a playdate. I didn’t, and still don’t, have a good answer for her. Sometimes, Alex, adults are just assholes who make ill-informed decisions.

Regardless, of these and other ongoing issues (she was recently diagnosed and is receiving treatment –successfully —for ADHD), Alex is happy and in a good space now, a space that acknowledges her inner spirit and allows to be herself – freely and without reservation.

The Summer of Pronouns

Fri, 21 Oct 2011 12:10:43 -0400

This past summer, we enrolled Alex in a local parks and rec summer day camp program. As a girl.

While this may seem for many to be either follow a natural course or even maybe not be a very big deal, it represented a big leap for her and for our family. It meant that she was ready for the world to acknowledge her as a girl. With female pronouns and a (relatively) female name. She was ready to emerge and blossom into the girl she was born to be. But what did that really look like? What did that mean? We knew that although this is her journey, as her support system, we understood that it would probably mean choppy waters ahead at least for us.

Several months before the first day of camp, I had contacted the camp director to discuss our situation. I explained that at Alex’s school, she uses a nurse’s bathroom. I also explained that while she used her birth name and some kids at the program might know her by that name and the male pronoun, Alex wanted people to use her new pronoun (“she” and “her”) and her affirmed name (i.e. Alex). The camp director was very agreeable and assured us they could accommodate us. The thought that kept running through my head was: This is too easy. Could this be too good to be true?

Indeed. It could. Indeed, it was.

The first sign of faltering started within the first week. Rather the first day. Since it was a local program, there were, naturally, children in attendance who also went to her school. These kids were confused by the new name and insisted on calling her by her birth name. When we learned about this situation, we coached her through the dialogue. We roll-played being bullies calling her by her birth name as if it were a dirty word. We taught her how to politely navigate those conversations and to simply say “I prefer to be called Alex, thank you.”

The bathroom arrangement at the camp was that Alex would use the restroom located in the preschool-aged day camp. I had agreed to this based on the school arrangement the previous year, not even realizing that now that Alex was “out” it might not mean that the same sort of arrangement would be acceptable to her. And indeed it wasn’t. Sometime within the first week of camp, Alex had made some friends (girls) and started using the female restroom that all her friends were also using.

Well, this information found its way back to some parents who knew Alex from school, and apparently they found it their civic duty to inform the camp directors that “Alex is really a boy.”

I’ll never forget the sensation of the hair standing up on the back of my neck when the counselor called me to ask how she should handle this situation with the parent. Too many thoughts raced through my mind at the same time, but by the time I had sifted through every profane word in every language I knew, I arrived at the place of “Ok, these are people who just need to be educated. I can help.” That is, my outlook on the situation was still relatively positive. I felt like it could have been a minor scuffle with a single, ignorant person. The camp and the directors were open to guidance, so I obliged them. The end result of this situation was that I spoke with Alex and explained that she had to follow our pre-arranged plan of using the preschool bathroom, and on swim days, she could use the female restroom and changing room, but only after the other girls had used and exited.

Although it was starting to sound kind of not ok-ish to me, I agreed because it seemed that Alex was otherwise pretty happy there. And as hoped, once we had this incident behind us, the summer continued along very smoothly. By the time summer was over, I breathed a huge sigh of relief that we had survived it. Until a stark realization occurred to me: Alex was Girl Alex all summer. What would happen with school? Would she be ok going back to her birth name and gender? It seemed awkward and counterintuitive to do that, so I asked her.

“Alex, you seem like you’ve been pretty comfortable this summer with people calling you by your name Alex and referring to you as a girl. What about school? What do you want to do?”

“I want to be (birth name) and a girl,” she replied.

“Um, but sweetie. (Birth name) is a very masculine name. I don’t know any girls that go by that name. And since everyone at school once knew you as a boy, that transition might be hard,” I reasoned. “People will still refer to you as a boy if you keep your name.”

“I don’t care. I want to be (birth name),” she said.

While this dialogue confused me, I have been practicing the art of knowing when to step back and let her lead and when she required parental guidance.

Since this concerned her identity and how she wanted to present herself to the world, my initial thought was: Oh, we need to let her guide us on this one.

So it was, that a week before school started, I met with the principal and informed her that Alex “wants people to use female pronouns; however, she wants to keep her birth name.” As the consummate diplomat, our principal acknowledged the request and said she would let the teachers and staff know. It was clear to me that she understood the part of the 1.5 hour training that they agreed to two years ago, which stated that by law the school must acknowledge a student’s gender preference with regard to pronoun usage. And then I dropped the bomb.

“And she’d like to use the female bathroom,” I said nervously.

“I see. Well, I will need to run that by the District office and see how other schools in our district have handled this situation,” she replied.

This answer haunted me and I knew that it did not bode well for a positive outcome for Alex. I recalled a conversation I had with Kim Pearson, President of TransYouth Family Allies a few weeks prior to my meeting with the principal in which she said, “When school administrators default to what the law says, it usually is an uphill battle in trying to get policy in place to allow transyouth access to their preferred bathroom.” With this conversation, I finally understood what the “bathroom issue” was all about. It wasn’t an internal dilemma as I had thought… no, this was about how will the community respond to it.

That was my first “a ha” moment about what the real issue that we were dealing with was, which is to say that it was not about ALEX, per se. It was about the community. That is, it’s all well and good that we should have a transgender child, but as soon as the community is pressed to interact with Alex in the way that she demands, the issue suddenly becomes theirs. Suddenly, transgenderism becomes personal. And suddenly, it becomes Alex’s personal cross to bear – helping the world and each individual who meets her and gets to know her through their own journeys of acceptance of her. As if childhood isn’t hard enough without that extra little task item.

The day before school started, as I and Alex were in the middle of the chaos of all the other parents waiting for the lists of classes and teachers to post, I took a call from the principal on my cell.

“Well, I have an update for you,” she said. I knew by her tone it was not good news. I felt the bile in my stomach churning. My palms got clammy and I started to shake.

“Yeah?”

“The District thinks that the arrangement we had last year is perfectly suitable for Alex to continue using.”

“But… but… but…” I struggled to get words out through a throat was near fully swollen shut. “But Alex is a GIRL! She wants to be treated like a girl. She wants to use the restroom just like all her friends. She doesn’t want to be treated any differently than her peers!”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a disappointed voice.

“Ok, well I have to believe that if this decision were yours, you would have not gone this way,” I said mustering some courage. “And you also have to know that I will take this as far as I need to for the sake of my child.”

“I understand,” she replied.

As I hung up, I felt all the blood run from my face. My body started trembling in huge spastic motions. Visions raced in my mind about where our path was taking us. I wasn’t going to give up. If this is what Alex wanted, I had no choice but to rage on ahead and demand her equality.

In the hours and days that followed, I contacted every professional I knew, including Kim Pearson (who took my call at 12:30 am in her time zone—the woman is a SAINT, I tell you!) and lawyers at the Transgender Law Center. I researched policy that schools had adopted to protect both themselves and transgender youth. I looked into what it would take to change the gender marker on Alex’s school records so that they had no choice but to allow her access. I posted updates about our situation to the parent listserv forum asking what others had done in this situation.

Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel came when the parent of another transgirl connected me to her attorney at the ACLU. She said she had spoken about my situation and the attorney wanted to talk to me. I called. We talked. And I began to feel hopeful once again.

A few days ago, Alex gave me her business card that she made on her manual typewriter. When I read it, my eyes filled with tears. Tears of pride, of relief, of joy, of resolution.

No matter how anyone wants to perceive my child, what counts the most is how she sees herself. No one can take that from her—not parents who call her out or administrators who refuse to let her use the restroom. Alex is a girl of truth.