Lessons between my mom and me

by Hayden Smith 
Staff Writer 

My mother is my role model. She is intelligent and witty, kind, yet firm. She embodies the creed of “do no harm but take no crap.” She and my father were my biggest advocates and defenders for most areas of my life. 

She instilled in me her core value of honesty. She is always honest to a fault – sometimes to the point of bluntness. She encouraged me and my sister to do the same, never lying down and taking it and always being honest about our wants, our needs, our experiences and our feelings. 

She is also conservative and Christian. Despite the lifelong lessons in honesty, I was afraid to come out to her about my sexual orientation and even more afraid to come out to her about my gender identity. I wanted to tell her the truth and to live authentically, but I was petrified with the fear that living my truth meant losing my family. I didn’t want to choose between one or the other. 

When I came out to her as queer when I was 15 at the pressure of a therapist, she was relieved. “I thought you were going to say you’re transgender,” she told me. I laughed awkwardly, knowing full well that I was but not ready to confess. 

I never got the chance to figure out how to tell her I identified as male; a group counselor at an outpatient program did that for me with both of my parents when I was sixteen. 

She wasn’t happy at first. She thought it was somehow both rebellion and a desire to fit in – with whom, I’m still not sure – and feared for my safety. We got in arguments often, and at the time, I thought she had turned against me. It broke my heart. 

I recognize that time now for what it was. My mom was most likely scared and confused. She had no idea what I needed or how to provide it. I can’t imagine how terrifying that is for a parent. The easiest solution for her would have probably been for me to “outgrow” my gender identity, like any of my other passing teenage phases. In her defense, I did cycle through several of the stranger ones. Temporarily wearing a radically new identity was not totally out of the ordinary for me. 

It took a few years of my keeping that identity for her to see that it was not, in fact, just another phase. 

Once we had moved past that, things got easier. I slowly opened up more and more to her about my feelings, my identity, and my interaction with other LGBTQ people. And as small as it seems, she gave me the greatest gift she could ever give: she let me. 

She has always been patient with me, letting me ramble for hours about friends or school or characters in a book. Maintaining that aspect of our relationship in a way where I can still be open and honest with her gives me exponential joy. 

We still don’t always see eye to eye on things. She will probably always call me by my birth name and original pronouns.  

Even so, she still loves me and I still love her. In that way, I don’t think either of us will ever change. 

Copyright The Gayly - 5/13/2017 @ 11:21 a.m. CST.