As this Mother's Day passed, I had to give serious consideration to what Mama actually means to me. So many transgender women and men suffer the cruel reality of facing the world alone; ofttimes as a result of rejection from their parents and families. The very thought of being rejected by the woman who once nurtured, loved, protected, and possibly carried you is something that the strongest person could probably not endure.
Although my announcing to my mother that I was transgender was emotional for all involved, I had to dig deeper in an effort to put myself in the position of a woman who carried and birthed a child who was seemingly male until said child's maturation and self identification suggested otherwise. How must she have felt to not know what to say? How did she handle (privately) the confusion and the hurt? To whom could she turn in a small city with no obvious resources for parents of trans? Even though we have since discussed some of these questions, and their very honest answers, I can't help but wonder if her love for me, and her support of my happiness are overshadowed by some type of shame, guilt, or disappointment in knowing that her once beautiful, seemingly male child is and always was, more comfortable, more outgoing, and more at peace as her female self.
After I let go of the resentment that I harbored toward my mother for not supporting my feelings during my teenage years, I was able to see her as a woman who did the best that she could with the resources that she had. Even when she did not understand, or did not know exactly what to do, she made it clear that she loved me. Now that I am an adult, I cherish the relationship that we've built as a result of what could have ultimately torn us apart. While I am aware that not all trans people are fortunate enough to have what I have come to so greatly appreciate, I ask that those readers please forgive me for endulging, but I must say Happy Mother's Day to the woman who has become my fiercest ally.
I love you Mama.