The other day, my 8-year-old son, Alex, was excitedly trying on his new Halloween costume. He unbuttoned his short-sleeved shirt, leaving it open to admire himself in the mirror. “Look, I’m like one of those pride boys!” he exclaimed. It took me a moment to understand that he was referencing the vibrant individuals we often see celebrating at Pride events, where many young men and transmasculine folks proudly wear their shirts open, sometimes showcasing scars from gender-affirming surgeries or draping themselves in a Pride flag.
As a transgender parent, I resonate deeply with the significance of self-expression and the pride that comes with it. “Soon, I’ll be able to do that too,” I reassured him.
“Really, Mama? Isn’t that weird?” he asked, scrunching up his nose. I appreciated his honesty. My transition is a personal journey, one I don’t seek approval for but certainly hope to navigate with my children’s support. While my transgender identity is my own, it inevitably intertwines with their story.
I explained to Alex that after my upcoming top surgery, I would feel empowered to show off my chest too. However, I acknowledged his concerns. My scars, a result of the double incision mastectomy I chose to undergo, would take time for both of us to adjust to. Alex understands that some people still see me as their mom, and given societal norms, he knows that girls are often expected to conceal their bodies. I emphasized that there’s nothing shameful about breasts, and the pressure to hide them is rooted in outdated societal expectations.
Though he wasn’t entirely comfortable with all of it, he was open to learning. Interestingly, Alex and my other two kids had been just as accepting when I came out as nonbinary. For years, I struggled with my identity, wondering if I was a transgender man, but the term nonbinary resonated more. I embraced being a blend of both genders and asked my children to use they/them pronouns when referring to me.
Coming out later in life, at 39, felt daunting. I had lived nearly four decades being perceived as female, while internally feeling that it never truly fit. But with three kids calling me Mama, any shifts in my identity were bound to affect them too.
They have been incredibly supportive. I realize that having a visibly transgender parent, especially one with unconventional pronouns, requires them to navigate their own challenges. They often correct teachers or friends who misgender me, and while I don’t expect them to bear the emotional burden of advocacy, I do ask for their respect.
Adjusting to my new identity has required practice, but they’ve done remarkably well at correcting themselves and each other. When I first transitioned, they were eager to know if they could still call me Mama. I needed them to understand that my identity as their parent wouldn’t change, even if other aspects did.
“Tell me again when your surgery is?” Alex asked.
“October 29th.”
“We should have a Boob Voyage party,” he suggested.
“That sounds amazing!”
“Oh! And turn them into little pillows!”
“Noted,” I replied, amused.
There’s no singular path to transitioning, and being transgender isn’t defined by social or medical changes. My journey will surely impact my children, and I often reflect on how to approach conversations about identity, pronouns, and surgery. Thankfully, while daunting, these discussions have been infused with love and humor. Who wouldn’t want a personalized boob pillow?
In the end, both my kids and I are doing well. My transition toward a happier self not only benefits me — it enriches our family life.
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Summary
Navigating parenthood as a transgender individual in transition brings unique challenges and opportunities for growth. My children have been supportive as I embrace my nonbinary identity, and together we explore the concepts of gender, identity, and acceptance. Through open conversations and humor, we find ways to celebrate this journey as a family.