Skip to main content

Why #5

 ******TRIGGER WARNING: Deadnaming, misgendering, unsupportive parent**********

I took my cat to the vet a few months ago. He is a big cat and barely fits into the carrier. He looked comical on the way there, but I felt so bad. I had not thought beforehand about his size compared to the carrier’s. I felt like a sad parent dropping him off, but the nurse seemed genuinely nice, which helped. I waited patiently for them to let me know when he was ready to be picked up and when it came time, I headed back to the door. 

I was greeted by another nurse who complimented my kitty on how handsome he was and then stuttered her way into a conversation with me about her daughter. She proceeded to tell me that her daughter was 10 and trans.

She teared up as she mentioned her ex-husband, how unsupportive he was, and how her heart broke for her daughter as she watched her battle with the emotions stemming from having  a parent that was always deadnaming her, misgendering her and refusing to provide her medications. My heart broke as I listened to this wonderful person pour her heart out to a complete stranger. 

She then smiled and said--and this sticks with me--she said that she wished her daughter was there to see another trans girl living a happy adult life.

Throughout most of my life,I have never really felt very happy. This lady saw me and thought: Happiness. I was taken aback by this. When I first came out a year and a half ago, I was so shy. I hid, had very few resources and felt very alone. COVID did not help much. Now, here I am all approachable and stuff! I am proud to be able to pick clothes that I like and feel good in, to do my hair, makeup and nails, to go out and with a smile on my face and love who I am. Knowing that I look happy is one of the best things this girl can hear, really. 

I have been approached by a couple of other parents since then and I am always ready to listen. I am here with Equity Buckfield because I want to extend myself further. I want to be an outlet, a resource, or even just a relatable voice for anyone who may need to hear one from time to time. I have been through 40 years of struggles with addiction, mental health and physical health throughout my battle to find my happiness. Now that I can finally see mine, I want to extend my hand to help others find theirs, whatever that happiness might be. I want to be open and available and hopefully help in any way I can, working towards a more loving and inclusive world. Buckfield feels like a great place to start.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why #1

  My (white) father was in the Air Force and stationed in Alaska. He had the good fortune to be invited to go whale hunting with the Inupiaq in Kotzebue. As they came back to shore, my father saw my beautiful mother standing by the water and fell in love. They married and traveled around the world thanks to dad's job in the Air Force. My family finally settled in Maine. We still moved throughout Maine in my younger years, making it difficult to make connections. At one school I was called a "n*gger" by a fellow student and went home to ask my sister what it meant. At another school, I had no friends and usually spent recess sitting by myself. I was always aware that I was different. In addition to being half Inupiaq, I was also coming to terms with being gay. Eventually, we moved to a tourist town where we stayed until my high school graduation. I was one of maybe ten people of color in my school. Lovingly, my friends would call me "Lil' Eskimo." I felt like...

Why #7

  “I’m here as a Christian, as a parent, as a former conservative Republican, and as a community member who loves my small town. My faith instructs me to love my neighbor as myself. My love for my town compels me to recognize its faults and try to make it better. My experience as a parent reminds me daily that every human being is someone’s child.  Since becoming a parent, I have watched crying children be intentionally ripped from their parents’ arms at the southern border; learned of the horrific suicide rates of transgender teens; and watched George Floyd beg for his mother as he took his final breaths. I started to realize the ways in which my own ignorance was contributing to these horrors. I began to imagine what it would feel like to be a mother at the southern border, or the mother of a transgender child, or the mother of a Black man murdered at the hands of the police. I committed to listen. I was raised colorblind and taught that Pride flags were unnecessary celebrat...

Why #4

  ******TRIGGER WARNING: Physical and emotional abuse, violent language/slurs********** If you walked by me in the halls of my high school in 1999/2000 you probably wouldn’t know I was there. And trust me, I was hard to miss: Neon green Mohawk, bright red shoes and black shirt and shorts. Against the maroon and white bricks and lockers, I was definitely a sore thumb. Those who did notice me were the popular kids. The football players. The cheerleaders. Wasn’t I the lucky one? They even gave me cool nicknames: Faggot, loser, fatty, chunk, and....you get the idea.  That year I remember talking to a teacher about how I felt; a far stretch for a shy kid like myself. That teacher told me “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” So I did. I joined the football team.  Excited, I suited up for my first practice ready to take on the world. But what I had done was take the target that was always on my back and replaced it with a name and number. I was abused, beaten, and humiliated. The ...