Today I saw another trans-identified female explaining she is now estranged from her parents. It is normally assumed that the parents must have rejected their child but that is not my experience. In our support group (for parents with trans-identified children) the reverse is the case. Where parental estrangement has occurred it has been at the behest of the offspring.
These children can demand unequivocal support for a medical transition and the validation of their new identity, as the sex they are not. Parents choose different ways to manage this. They know their child and may make some concessions, to their child’s worldview, to maintain a loving connection. In all cases they are motivated by love and trying to avoid their child taking, irreversible medical, steps in their quest for the impossible. In my case I have never been asked to use a new name or opposite sex pronouns so I have not had to calibrate just how much I would be willing to concede. I am not a believer in this new religion and it would require superhuman effort of will to lie about something so fundamental as the sex of the child to which I gave birth.
This issue has made me reflect on all the people in my life who share views that are diametrically opposed to my own. It seems a relatively new position where family members are cast out because your views do not 100% align. This is a bar too high for anyone to meet, surely?
I myself am number six of eight children. My mum sometimes resorted to using our number in introductions; she was inordinately proud of the size of her brood, if somewhat less enthusiastic about our individual characteristics. I was exactly in the middle in terms of age ranges so I have siblings who are seven years older and seven years younger, respectively. That fourteen year age span means we all knew our parents at different stages and experienced the family dynamic in different ways. The oldest retained memories of a kind and patient father who had a penchant for bringing abandoned dogs home. I didn’t meet this “Dad”. The youngest never had the experience of living in a two roomed cottage, with an outside toilet. She grew up in the four bedroomed bungalow my father built and even graduated to a bedroom of her own! She remained at home on her own and had somewhat of an “only child” experience.
Nowadays we are scattered across the world. I have sisters in New York, Toronto and Australia. My overseas sisters have spent more time in their new countries than in England. Inevitably our cultural influences have diverged. Some are merely labelling issues. Our Transatlantic sisters find referencing going to the toilet unnecessarily descriptive and prefer “washroom”. I dare not explore too much the prevailing cultural influences in Tranada; the less known about Canadian sister’s beliefs on sex v gender the better. 😳.
Closer to home the England based sibling diverge in terms of our political influences. I was a remain campaigner but my brothers are brexiteers. I am an atheist but one of my sisters is a practicing Catholic. Two of my siblings are skeptical about vaccine efficacy. I am fully vaxxed and boosted. {I remain concerned about the Pfizer vaccine data but I am fighting #BigPharma on another front and don’t have spare capacity to devote the necessary time to serious research.}.
I am a supporter of female reproductive freedom but my, much loved, mother-in-law is Catholic and firmly in the anti-abortion camp. Despite this we managed to discuss our differing views, calmly, whilst I was heavily pregnant with her grandchild. We neither of us changed the other’s mind but I was impressed that she had changed her opinion about contraception; because of the work she did with vulnerable women. One of the women who sought frequent assistance, at her, Catholic, run group was battling drug addiction and had eight of her babies removed by Social Services. MIL felt contraception was the solution and fell out of favour with the Catholic priest for this stance. She also saw women being coerced into abortions by abusive partners and was instrumental in setting up a refuge to help these women.
All of which is to reflect on the, seemingly, lost art of holding different beliefs from people you love. It’s not as if I am some uber peacemaker who doesn’t get into passionate argument about my beliefs. I am not exactly a shrinking violet, in the opinion sharing stakes, as anyone who knows me will attest. We are an opinionated family and pre- whatsapp days we usually rubbed along quite nicely. (Don’t get me started on Family whatsapp groups they have the potential to lead to feuds of Biblical proportions).
All of which takes us to the archaeology of outrage and the harvesting of twitter for the existence of wrong think, in our past. I have changed my views on many issues as times changed; research contradicted an earlier stance, or a new experience improved my insight. Because Joey Brite pointed out that feminist consciousness raising happens in public now I am not too hard on myself for beliefs I espoused, publicly, just three years ago. I call these my pre-awareness of autogynephilia days.
Now, I have a son who believes in Gender Identity Ideology. We share a home and have many common interests. He knows I disapprove of the Doctors supplying him with drugs. I cannot validate a lie so we live with an uneasy truce that sometimes spills into vigorous, and angry, disagreement. After one of these outbursts we tread warily on a neutral topics for a few days. I may be offered a cup of tea, I may offer to pick up a parcel from the post-office or fetch the fish and chips. In this way equilibrium is restored and we have saved our relationship for another day.
I hope I never lose him completely to his new religion. My best friend is an Anglican Vicar and, during her training her mentor, also a Vicar, was keen for her to keep her atheist friends, for which I am eternally grateful. That gives me hope.
I loved this. A really good friend of 30 years whom I laughed my way through life tricky times with decided she really liked Donald Trump,my dad's an anarchist atheist his family are staunch irish catholics and ones an Opus Dei priest,my mother reads the Daily Mail.I'm a cardy wearing woolly centrist I love them all dearly and hardly agree with them on anything.It is a lost art. Sounds like you've played it really well and your good bond with him held even if uneasy sometimes. Hope the uneasiness improves with time.I was in a similar position with my now 27 year old autistic daughter.
She's desisted now and relieved we went for watchful waiting until she was brain maturation age.Still says she's non binary and she knows I think 'so what?' but we're good.
She's even considering having children with partner in future. Huge change but it took from 12 years.