She told me in the car.
It was early July, and we were on our way home after a
botched date night. My spouse’s mood was off, once again; this chronic
melancholy, this little Eeyore cloud hanging over our lives and saturating
everything in miserable little droplets. It happened all the time.
The unhappiness had put a wedge between us for years. I, the
happy, bubbly, social person on one side, my partner, the quiet, brooding,
isolating one on the other. And on those rare nights we could sneak out for a
meal or a drink, I would grow resentful when the Eeyore cloud starting pissing
all over our parade.
“I wish you would tell me what’s going on with you,” I said
as we drove home from the coffee shop.
“I can’t,” she replied.
“Enough of that. We’ve been together 22 years and you’ve
been unhappy the whole time. Everyone can see it. The kids and I can feel it.”
“I know,” she admitted.
I sighed. “Is it me? Are you unhappy with me? With our
family?”
“No, it’s not you. It’s not the kids. This predates all of
you, trust me.”
“Look,” I said. “I’m tired of brushing this under the rug. I
think it’s time for some honesty. Nothing
will get better if you don’t tell me
what’s wrong.”
“I can’t,” she insisted, staring straight ahead, hands
firmly on the wheel.
I thought of potential big secrets and just started guessing. “Are you gay?” I inquired. Hey, it happens, right? Maybe she’s
not as in to me as my ego wanted me to believe.
“No,” she said.
“Ok,” And then I just threw it out there. I still can’t tell
you why. “So, do you want to be a woman or something?”
Silence.
And suddenly, I knew.
But I had to ask again because I needed to hear the answer. “You…”
my voice caught in my throat. “You’re a… a woman?”
More silence. My stomach was in knots. I wanted to throw up.
“I can’t talk about this,” she said in the smallest, most
vulnerable voice I had ever heard from her. I felt my heart break on the spot.
And I, the supportive mom of a trans child, the advocate,
the ally, friend of the LGBT community, replied with an eloquent, “Oh, you have
got to be fucking kidding me!”
Yep. Not my proudest moment.
The life I knew – the life I had with my husband – died that
night. There’s no other way to describe it.
I thought I knew everything about my spouse. And yet, at
that moment, I felt completely blindsided by the news. I didn’t know this could
happen twice in one family. I didn’t understand how someone could hide
something like that from the person they've been married to for over two decades. I didn’t
know how this would affect our family, the kids, her job.
I felt betrayed, hurt, devastated, angry and scared. And
she, by the light of the Walmart parking lot we had stopped in, looked a perfect
picture of terror and relief. “I never thought I’d tell anyone,” she said,
staring down at her lap. “But I just told you.”
I wanted to scream at her and I wanted to hug her, all at
once.
We were lost in a situation neither of us saw coming.
*****
But that was eight months ago.
I would love to tell you that, given all the experience my
family has with trans issues, it’s been an easy journey. It hasn’t. The first
few months were incredibly bumpy, and something I’ll be talking about in future
posts. I didn’t think we could come back from it all.
But we did. Life with Zoe is beautiful. That’s her
lovely chosen name, by the way, and I helped pick it by vetoing all the ones I
hated. I hated a lot of them. I’m really supportive.
Her name is now legally changed on her birth certificate,
along with her gender marker. The papers came in about a week ago. Her birth
certificate says “female,” which means – you guys – I’m gay married! *insert
rainbows and plaid shirts here* You have no idea how many lesbian jokes I’ve
been holding in for the last few months. Shit’s about to get real.
This same-sex marriage revelation was a perfectly
comfortable shift for me. It feels right because we feel right. After nearly 23 years together, I finally have my
whole partner, not just the part she wanted to show me. And that Eeyore cloud?
It hasn’t come out to play in a while. My wife is gorgeous, witty and social
now that she’s finally comfortable in her own skin. We’re the happiest we’ve ever been.
I need to give some serious props to our two boys. These guys
could teach a class in resiliency, compassion and acceptance. They’ve embraced
their mama with open arms, just as they did their sister.
And Alexis? She taught her mama to be brave like her by
example, and saved her from drowning in secrets and misery for the rest of her
life. What a gift that girl is.
While I know there are many horror stories out there about
what happens when people come out, we haven’t dealt with a single one yet. Our
families, friends and neighbours have all been incredible. We’re so fortunate
to be surrounded by many caring, open-minded people.
And that brings us to this very day.
Today is the day Zoe
is coming out at work. There’s much at stake here, and she’s understandably
nervous.
Like her daughter, Zoe has also written a coming out email. And
I’m timing this blog post to go live right around the time she sends that
message out to all her coworkers who don’t yet know she’s transgender (the ones
she works closely with already know, as does HR, but there are may more people
to tell.) It’s a big day.
After we do these two things, there’s no more hiding. Zoe
gets to be herself full time. I get to say “my wife” without outing her before
it’s time. My kids finally get to say “I have two moms.” We don’t have to
remember who knows and who doesn’t know and who can’t know yet because they
might tell someone else, and… Well, let’s just say it’s been exhausting for all
of us.
We’ve been living in the closet, and it feels damn good to
be busting out of it.
*****
This is the internet, so I expect not all of you will be
supportive. But believe me, there isn’t a thing you could say in response to
this news I haven’t already thought of in the last several months. I used to
worry about the shade people will throw our way, but not anymore. Our world is so full of love and support
that it leaves absolutely no room for hatred or ignorance to reside within it.
Besides, on top of having both a transgender daughter and
wife, I’ve been fully immersed in gender issues for two years now, studying
research, interviewing experts, giving talks, writing articles, and connecting
with thousands of families. So unless you’re coming at this with at least as
much knowledge as I now have, I’m probably not going to pay your negativity
much mind. Just sayin'.
So why share this at all? The same reason we share Alexis’
journey: I want you to learn with me.
If you learn along with me, then you won’t be afraid. You
won’t be judgmental. You won’t think families like ours are defective or weird.
You’ll get to know the queer parents at your kids’ school instead of avoiding
them. You’ll invite the trans kid in your child’s class over to play, like you
would any other child.
And then you’ll teach these things to the people in your
life, whether directly or indirectly. Knowledge
creates change. And then the world gets safer for Alexis and Zoe, the two
bravest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving.
You and I are going to help make that happen, ok?
So here’s to the messy stuff of life, the woman I love more and
more each day, and to wonderful new beginnings.