Yes, you read that title right. I finally told my old school, Mexican Catholic father about my transition. I’m happy to report the world didn’t end and I still have a loving father. You’re probably thinking…
Apparently, for me, it did work that way. I couldn’t be luckier or happier.
My amazing little brother (who’s known for a while) and I hatched a plan to give him the news. Having a decent meal first seemed like a logical choice, so we took Pops out for a late lunch at our favorite taco shop. (Sidenote: honestly, if you’re not full of love after street tacos, you should probably see a doctor). After a lunch that consisted of way too many adobada & carne asada tacos, we went to a nearby marina for some privacy.
After a walk for about 10 minutes down a boardwalk, we found a bench with no one around. We sat down & chit-chatted for a bit. I could feel the weight of the world bearing down on me. For a minute, I sat in nervous silence as I stared off into the setting sun against the horizon. Once I found a break in the conversation, I took a deep breath. With a heavy sigh, summoning as much courage as I could, I told him there was something important I needed to talk about, and it’s the reason for bringing him out for the day.
I choked up at least twice, and the second time came with you don’t have to say it if you don’t want to” from my father. I think he sensed that I was coming out as gay. I had come this far, though, and I had to get it out. I explained, through heartfelt words, about my journey thus far. I paused towards the end and, with the entire world fading into nothing behind me, uttered the words that I’ve been struggling and agonizing with for so long: “Dad, I’m transitioning genders.”
A hush fell over us. After a minute, his initial reaction surfaces.
“Did you get the surgery?”
“No, that’s not even on the table yet”
I don’t think he fully understood the extent of what 6 months’ worth of hormones would do, essentially not requiring the surgery. For some reason he pleaded not to have the surgery. I reluctantly agreed.
In the end, after a couple more questions, we shared a big hug and a few tears. He pulled me in close and said to me “I’ll always love you, and you’ll always be my son to me.”
It’s a start. More than that, though, it’s as best an outcome I could’ve hoped for. The world didn’t end, and I still have an incredible, loving and remarkable man I get to call my father.
Dad, I love you…no matter what.