This weekend will undoubtedly be one of the most difficult of my transition, and likely my entire life.
In just a few hours, I will be boarding a flight back home. The purpose of my trip? To finally talk to my father about my transgender status and my transition. I am a nervous wreck, to put it mildly. I’ve replayed every possible negative scenario out in my head, and I’ve shed more than a few tears already.
I will thankfully have two very caring people by my side – my brother and his girlfriend, both of whom have been incredibly supportive of me. However, part of the tension comes out of trying to anticipate his reaction, good, bad or indifferent. I keep swinging back and forth between wanting the support I’ve come to see consistently among the friends and few family members, and simply asking for him to respect my decision and to remember that none of this means I’ll ever stop loving him. I’m also having a hard time dealing with the possibility that all of my accomplishments in life will suddenly become meaningless to him and I’ll be seen as nothing more than a freak or an outcast, one that will bring shame to the family.
However, through any and all of the possible scenarios that could play out, nothing changes (aside from the fact that I’ll be completely out to everyone in my life). I’ll hit 6 months of HRT on Tuesday. My name & gender marker change are legal and binding in less than 3 weeks. This isn’t happening, in the sense that it’s something I can be convinced out of with enough pleading – this is a done deal.
As a reminder of that, I only need to do one thing – look in the mirror. In front of me is the woman I’ve struggled and fought my entire life to become…
…and no one, not my father, not a relative or stranger, not anyone can or will ever take that from me.
PS – If you know the artist who’s album I referenced in the title of this post, chances are the late 80s and early 90s were awesome for you.