Out of the Closet

The most common [negative] LGBT narrative for coming out to one's family is that of the parents just utterly disowning their child. Calling them sinful fags, or other hurtful words, and I always sort of imagined a burly football-loving dad literally picking their gay, lesbian, trans, or bi child up by the scruff of their shirt and tossing them out the door.

Sometimes I wish that happened to me instead of what really happened. It would be easy to accept the outright hatred of my family, I like to imagine. Having someone be mad at me is much easier than having people be disappointed in me. I've always been that way. When I was a child, my parents never had to raise their voice at me. They just had to say in a sad voice, "We're very disappointed in you..." And I'd break down. I couldn't bear it. I always wanted them to be proud of me.

But, I digress. In order to understand my parents and my coming out story, it is important to understand my parents. My mother and father belong to the "Church of Christ." That's the denomination name, it's a very specific type of Christian church. They are extremely traditional. They don't put much stock in ceremony. Instead, they simply teach the Bible, in as literal and (cherry-picking, but you know) "true" manner that they can, from their point of view. But what does this mean? It means that because the Bible says to "sing praises in the church," they have congregational singing, with no instruments. Because the Bible doesn't say to "play instrumental music in the church." It just says sing. Yes, it's a big enough deal that this entire branch of Christianity refuses to have any pianos, or other instruments, in the church. And no choirs, either. Just singing. Congregational singing. It means that because all of the apostles and such were men, there are no female preachers, no female song-leaders, no female-prayer-leaders. Anyone with even the least bit of authority or importance in the church is exclusively male.

The role of women in the church is to serve their husbands. Oh, and cook brunch on Sundays. That's really it. I even asked my dad one time what role women had, and he didn't have a good answer. They cook meals (I helpfully pointed out that so do men), and they clean. They are the housewives of Jesus, I guess. It's always irritated me, but that's another story altogether.

So my parents come from this alternate universe where women are supposed to serve their husbands and be rather submissive. Of course, individual women in that church can have all sorts of grandiose careers —but they're still not the head of household. Men are supposed to be the head of household, no matter how incompetent that man might be. Gender roles are very specific, and setting a toe out of those roles causes a bit of an uproar as it turns out.

My first coming out was when I was about 19 years old. I didn't come out as transgender because I still hadn't realized that's what I was. Instead, I came out as a lesbian. I had been dating my then-girlfriend for several months, and hiding it was taking its toll on me. I sent them an email because I did not want to see their faces when they learned.

They weren't angry — they were just upset. Disappointed. It hurt, but honestly, it was a very tame response. We emailed back and forth several times. I tried to convince them that it wasn't a choice and that it wasn't wrong. They did not care to listen and told me it was sinful and I should stop. That they would rather me be single and alone my entire life than to "act on my lesbian impulses" and doom myself to hell. They couldn't separate "act" from "being." What I mean is — being a lesbian to them simply meant having sex with someone of the same gender. As long as I wasn't having sex with someone, then I wasn't "acting gay," and thus safe from God's fury.

After that one night of discussion, though...it stopped. They treated me exactly the same as they always had, they wanted to see me for Christmas (they even invited my girlfriend, so long as we didn't kiss or hold hands or any of that lesbian stuff), and we quite literally never talked about it again. They managed to put themselves so far into denial that they could just pretend they had never learned that I was gay, and everything was fine, and my girlfriend was actually just this really close friend of mine, and we were going to be spinsters together or something.

That was fine, to be honest. It hurt because I couldn't discuss typical mom-daughter stuff; what girls I thought were cute, how to deal with relationship problems. That entire realm of conversation was cut off for me, but I got used to it quickly — or thought I did. But for the most part, coming out as gay didn't seem to affect my family dynamic that much. Everything was OK.

For some reason, when I realized I was trans and wanted to come out, I knew that having a brief email argument and then resuming the norm was probably a bit too much to ask for.

When I came out to my parents, they basically exploded. All over email, of course. My mother told me that what I was doing "flew in the face of God," she said she never wanted to talk to me again, she said her daughter had died and she didn't want to know this "Ian" person at all. She said my aunt and uncle felt the same way, that my father was extremely disappointed and hurt. She literally wrote out my obituary and sent it to me in an email. I forget what it said, but it was something like, "Here lies Sarah Hazelton, a beautiful and kind-hearted girl," etc. It was bad. It was horrible. I went through a really dark period when I came out, and I imagine so did my parents. My dad was a little more civil about it; he tried to convince me I was making a mistake, and when I didn't bend, he just stopped talking to me for a couple weeks.

For a while, I thought I had permanently and completely killed my relationship with my parents. Once my mother cooled off, though, she started to regret her initial reaction. She texted and said she shouldn't have reacted out of anger. She said she would always see me as Sarah and as female, but that she should not have said what she said out of anger. It was a small improvement. She said we could text, but that she did not want to hear me in person — she didn't want to hear my voice change. I assume she also doesn't want to see any physical changes, either. So since April, I haven't spoken to my parents in person, nor seen them.

My girlfriend, and pretty much everyone else I know, has told me just to disown them and stop talking to them, but it feels more complicated than that.

On the plus side — they have not been misgendering me, and they don't call me Sarah when they talk to me. On the minus side, they also don't gender me at all, and they don't call me by name at all. In other words, they have sunk right back into the powerful denial that they pulled when I came out as a lesbian. Except in order for them to maintain the illusion that they still have a "daughter," they are just avoiding ever saying my name or using pronouns to refer to me at all. I have no idea how they talk about me in their home and to other people. I'm sure they still use my birth name and pronouns. Absolutely sure.

My mom texts me every now and then to check in with me, and last time I texted my dad (to let him know about a banking matter), he texted back and asked how things were going. I don't know if it's right or not, but I've sort of helped them maintain their illusion, and avoid gendering or naming myself, or talking about trans-related subjects. Even though it's a big part of my life now. Even though they're missing out on a huge part of their kid's life. Even though it hurts.

So that is my family situation. It's awkward, it's sad, but it's not... the worst situation ever? Even as I write this, I don't wish any ill to them, and I don't want anyone else doing so either. It's just how it is. They were raised with these very specific beliefs, and they don't know how to deal with their kids not fitting the mold. When I was writing this post I even worried about what people would think about my parents. I sincerely don't want to hurt them, and that is what is so frustrating. That is why it would have been easier had they just malevolently disowned me completely. Because then I would be able to really internalize and believe that they are just nasty people with nasty hearts, but I don't believe that, and I don't feel that way. And I don't want others to think that, either.

I'm still working on finding the moral of this story. I'm not going to lie and say their reactions haven't hurt me. I spend a lot of time thinking about how lonely I am, cut off from my bio-fam. I still have some family members who are supportive, of course. My brother Mark, first and foremost, an uncle, a cousin. But my parents had always been a strong part of my life, and their distinct absence (and disappointment) is a wound that will take a long time to heal, and it might not ever completely go away.

I can tell you that even with all this stuff going on with my family, I have more self-confidence and self-pride than I ever had in the closet. Coming out as trans has opened my heart to embrace and understand so many issues and people and things that I would never have considered otherwise. Coming out as trans has boosted my self-esteem and confidence, and while I'm not happy about a lot of things in my life right now, I am happy with my transition, and who I am becoming. So there is that.

Peace and love, as my brother always says. Stay safe out there.