I think at first, they thought we were just weird—a big joke.

I mean, we’re a family where one of the kids comes out as trans, then one of the parents. Following all that, the other parent admits she’s always been a closeted lesbian and then the trans kid, still on the path of discovery, declares themselves non-binary rather than a trans girl, and tries on a new set of pronouns. All of this takes place over about six years—a visibly authentic and changing family.

We probably seemed easy to pick on, and that’s become more and more obvious. My family has had our photos stolen and our looks made fun of (yes, including the kids). My beautiful wife has been picked apart by people determined to point out anything “trans” about her. I’ve been called a “fat cow” more than I can count. Our nonbinary teen has been mocked on Twitter by grown adults declaring themselves “gender critical” (also known as TERFs, or trans-exclusionary radical “feminists”) who laughed at everything from their gender identity to their budding career as a music producer.

My wife and I have been called child abusers and monsters who should be locked away or even killed for affirming our trans child and saying other young people should be supported, too.  We’ve had our lives threatened more than once.

I’ve been armchair diagnosed by online critics as a narcissist, sociopath, psychopath, and/or someone with Munchausen syndrome by proxy. I’ve been told I “made” my family trans for attention and money and that I’m simultaneously held captive, in a way, by my controlling wife and have a “classic” case of Stockholm syndrome. I am a bully for standing up against hate, but also, sometimes, my wife writes all my tweets. Oh, and I’m not a “real” lesbian, of course, because I’m married to a trans woman, and they’d have to see her as a woman for that to happen.

I’m both a manipulator and being manipulated, an oppressor and the oppressed, a liar who’s been lied to, have made “megabucks” from exploiting my family by writing a book about us and am also someone to pity because I can’t escape my life.

The lore surrounding us grows and morphs yearly, and I’m always in awe of the new ways we’re portrayed in transphobic and homophobic circles.

So yes, at first, we were probably a joke. And then we stopped being that and started becoming a real threat. That’s why this lore had to be created to justify the growing resentment against us. We’re threatening because we’re a successful, happy LGBTQ family. People all over the world are connecting with our story in larger numbers every year, and that’s creating change.

We’re not unique, of course. There are many families similar to ours, in which people come out and are loved and supported. They often get their share of hate, too. When you’re trying to paint trans people as dangerous and disgusting, these happy stories tend to get in the way. So, they try to silence us however they can, from mockery to shaming to outright threats.

Unfortunately, that just doesn’t work here. Of all the things I’ve personally been accused of, there’s one thing that’s true: I like the attention. I love it, actually.

I love that people are reading about us and learning from us and growing as a result of what we’re putting out there. I love the messages and comments that arrive in such large numbers every day that I can’t answer them all. I live for the stories of people who’ve used our example to get to know themselves better, to come out to those they care about, to support someone who’s come out in their lives, or just to learn and be better allies. I get teary every time someone says they found hope in our story and knew they could get through the changes in their own lives. And every time I can use my platform to promote another LGBTQ person’s voice, I’m extra grateful for the ability to raise more voices. It’s the only way we’re going to normalize our stories.

That attention, of course, isn’t all positive. The downside is all the hate. But it’s been over six years, and that hate hasn’t dulled our shine yet. My family’s shield is love, and it’s proven near impenetrable.

Despite whatever new rumours are floating around this week, we’re still living a life that’s far happier and healthier than it was when some of us were hanging out in the closet. And our nonbinary teen—the one the “adults” made fun of? —at seventeen, they’re the youngest person in their college music production program and impressing their profs at every turn with what they know. But hey, keep laughing.

To those who get harassed online: I know it can be hard, and I understand if you need to take a break (like I have a few times) or walk away entirely. But please remember you don’t have to take on someone else’s opinions of you or the people you love. You can choose to hand that back to them, still wrapped with that big ugly bow on top. There are many people who will construct entire narratives about you without you, and you have no control over that. But you do have control over one thing: living your life as beautifully and proudly and fiercely as you can. Don’t let others steal your light. Don’t let them dictate your happiness level. Shake that off and keep shining.

In the end, the joke isn’t you—it’s on them.

The thing is, until the bigotry stops, and people realize families like ours have every right to exist happily, safely, and equally, I’m not going anywhere. I lose no sleep over what people say about me. I don’t care what you want to armchair diagnose me with to justify your hatred, whether or not you question my motives, or if you choose to demonize me for being a mom and partner and proud queer woman who stands up. I do hope to be as rich as you think I am one day, but until then, I’ll just live for all the good I know stories like our are doing.

In summary and with much love: