We had an appointment today at our local
children's hospital, and you were on my mind the whole time.
The hospitals' Gender Identity Clinic sees
around 100 kids like my daughter - like your
daughter. They not only help our child through her transition from male to
female, but support her family, too. They answer our questions and listen to
our concerns. They always point us in the right direction, should we need more
information.
Last year we needed a lot of support
because that was when she came out to us. She was eleven at the time, and we
were unprepared for the news - probably just like you. There's nothing quite
like being told your child's insides don't match their outsides, is there?
I didn't know what to do at first, so I
turned to the people in my life that I trusted. I'm fortunate to know some great therapists
and sex educators with experience in gender issues. They gave me sound
information, and that's what set us down this path of accepting and embracing
our child for who she is.
When I read about Leelah - and yes, I will be
using her chosen name and pronouns - my first reaction was to be really angry with you. How could you not
support your child? How could you seemingly cut her contact with the outside world,
deny her request for much-needed medical services, and send her to
"professionals" who psychologically damaged her? What were you
thinking?
But then a thought occurred to me: When our
child came out to us, we went to the people we
trusted. When yours came out to you, you went to the people you trusted. We both did the same thing.
Unfortunately for Leelah, those people weren't worthy of your trust. They lead
you down the wrong path.
But this does not mean I think you're
blameless.
Yes,
you have religious beliefs. So what? Many people do,
and only some choose to use them as a flimsy shield to deny rights to others. Many
of my daughter's biggest supporters are religious, ranging from Catholic to
Muslim. How do they do it and maintain their beliefs? They choose love above judgment. It's that simple. There are a million ways to worship, and not all
of them involve an anti-LGBT sentiment.
Yes,
you likely acted on the advice of "professionals." So what? It clearly wasn't working. She was miserable. At that point, it's time to
step out of one's belief-based comfort zone and explore other options. At any
point, there was this amazing tool at your disposal called the internet, and it
is full of helpful information. If you had done some independent research into the
several recent studies on the successes of trans kids who are allowed to
transition, it might have raised some questions about the treatment Leelah was
being provided. It could have saved her
life.
So yes, I believe you are at least partially
responsible for the unhappiness Leelah suffered. You chose to stay on the path
you were on, and that ultimately lead to her tragic death. I'm heartbroken for
all of you that it did.
But I also have to believe that you had her
best intentions at heart, no matter how deeply flawed or steeped in ignorance your parenting decisions might have been. She was your child. You loved her.
So today, while I was sitting in the clinic
waiting room chatting with another supportive mom of a trans child, I thought
of you and all I wish you had known before it was too late.
I
wish you had known how much better trans youth fare when their families and
communities support them, rather than try to suppress them. The suicide rate drops dramatically, as does the rate of
homelessness, poverty and addiction.
I
wish you could have seen the happy person you child might have become if you
had listened from the beginning and supported her transition. My daughter went from a dangerously depressed and isolated
"boy" to a lovely girl I rarely see without a smile on her face. She
is joyous for the first time in her life.
Joyous. I don't use that term loosely.
I
wish you would have known how damaging conversion therapy is to people in the
LGBT community. I guess now you do know. But I'm so sad you
had to find out this way.
I
wish you would have known enough to immerse yourself in the trans community. I've learned more about resiliency and authenticity through the
trans people I've met than I ever imagined possible. I've learned that
transgender people can be happy; they can fall in love, have families and
careers and wonderful lives. Being trans is still a challenge, but it's not at
all what conversion therapists or rightwing lobbyists make it out to be. I wish
you could have embraced Leelah's community. It's a good one.
I
wish you could have known what moving from fear to hope feels like. I used to be afraid. But education, time and making the conscious
decision to love my daughter unconditionally have reaped some wonderful
rewards. I have far more hope for my happy daughter's future than I ever had
for my unhappy son's. This is a good place to be.
Let
me be clear: I don't, for even a moment, think I'm better than you or that I
love my child more than you loved yours. I'm sure
you loved her dearly. But for whatever reason - be it upbringing, environment
or overall life experience - my husband and I were able to be more open-minded
with our child. That's what this world needs more of, because open-mindedness
breeds acceptance. It saves lives. It pains me that not all trans people have
open-minded parents. I, along with many others, am actively working to change
that.
I hope you don't choose to hide behind religion
or ignorance in your grief. I hope you decide, in your own time, to do what
your daughter wanted: she wanted trans visibility and education. She wanted
allies.
You
can be those allies. You can, if you choose, use
your grief to do some good. You can speak to other parents and say, "We
made mistakes. Here's what we would have done differently now that we know
better."
You
can save lives. You can make it your mission to
ensure that no other transgender child feels invisible, and no other parent
listens to the wrong people.
In the wake of so much tragedy, I hope you
choose to honour your daughter. I hope
you choose love.