A 2016 poll found that there are between 0.5 to 0.6% people who are transgender in the US.
This would put the total number of transgender Americans at approximately 1.4 million adults.
This is their journey:
I’m R and I’m transgender. I’m also the youngest kid in my family. I’m quiet, and my older sibling, L, is not. We are both a lot alike and very different.
Growing up. I didn’t have a name for how I felt; I just knew I was really unhappy the older I got. I hated the changes puberty was causing. I wanted it to stop. I’m quiet. I didn’t say anything. I doubled down on skirts, on leggings, on purses, whatever I could do to be more girly. My mom loved it, so I kept doing it, but I grew more unhappy. I lied about my favorite anime characters, saying I liked girl characters when I was drawn to male characters.
And then, a couple years into this struggle, when I finally had a name for who I was – transgender, my brother L came out to my parents as being transgender and I felt screwed over. I figured that if I said something now, my parents would think I was copying my brother. So, I dressed even girlier while I grew more depressed.
L was immediately accepted. His entire wardrobe of girl’s clothes went to me or got tossed. He got boys underwear, boys jeans, everything a geeky little guy could ask for. I still hammed it up, letting my mom put makeup on me, do my hair, whatever I could do to embrace being female.
It was awful, but I did it anyway, lasting a year and a half into L’s social transition before my mom helped break through my barrier. She guessed that I was trans, but unlike L’s instant transition, my mom wanted made me to wait an agonizing six months to come out, even though I, too, got a new wardrobe and haircuts that grew increasingly shorter I came out to my extended family as gay first. It wasn’t quite right, the gay label as a girl, but it let me be out, partially, at least.
Trying to figure out who I was and my sexuality at the same time was torture. I told myself that I must like girls in that way, but I didn’t. I want someone to partner with, but I was also figuring out that I was asexual. The asexual part was the easiest. I really needed an easy thing at that point.
I tore myself up over being trans, being gay. I felt so alone.
I was more depressed than ever. I still got called by my girl name and it made me sick each time I heard it or saw it. My mom saw the despair, and four months after coming out to her, I took my new name and came out to my whole family and friends.
My brother and I never said a word to each other during the years we were suffering and trying to figure out what was wrong. We share a room, and both of us are blown away that each night for years we lay in our beds and agonized silently.
If one of us would have taken the leap and shared, we could have suffered less.
We knew our parents were LGBT allies and supported one of my mom’s students who was transgender.
We were scared. Scared to say the words aloud to ourselves.
To each other.
To our parents.
To the world.
We saw the agony that my mom’s student was in, that moving hours away to an LGBT friendly place was the only way to live openly.
That’s why trans visibility is so important. Acceptance is essential.
My brother L and I are transgender.
We are at peace with that knowledge because we are accepted for who we are.
A 2016 poll found that there are between 0.5 to 0.6% people who are transgender in the US.
This putS the total number of transgender Americans at approximately 1.4 million adults.
This is her journey:
Despite living in a sizable city, there are very few people who know what transgender means. Not even the doctors here knew what transgender meant until we explained it to them.
Imagine having two transgender children in a community that is extremely conservative and evangelical. The schools are unwelcoming. The churches are unwelcoming. Most people reject the local LGBT individuals. The state legislature is actively pursuing bills that legalize discrimination against people like my children.
Given that the trans population is less than half a percent of my state’s population, the lack of awareness of transgender people is unsurprising.
Visibility of transgender people in the media is increasing, but not at a rate fast enough to make a dent in the general population. Here, where we live, at least, visibility occurs as the few LGBT people come out of the closet to their families, friends, coworkers, and ultimately to the community as a whole.
Being out in a conservative, Republican city and state is often dangerous. Add in any other minority characteristics and the danger to the individual increases exponentially.
My two wonderful teenage transgender sons have to navigate this world. It’s terrifying to think of them in the school setting (so they are homeschooled), unbelievably frightening to think of them out there alone and out as they medically transition in the future.
Transgender visibility and awareness is vitally important. My kids were born into the wrong bodies. In the second trimester of my pregnancies, each of them were exposed to increased testosterone, changing their brain structures to resemble male brains.
Like sexual preferences, being transgender is not a choice. My sons, despite the identification at birth being female, are male. Because they are trans male, they are the lucky ones. They are less likely to be abused, less likely to be killed than trans females. They will, with testosterone, grow facial hair, increase their muscle mass and deepen their voices. They will enter into society with the stereotypical male look with ID cards that match their genders.
Most transgender people are not fortunate enough to have accepting families and doctors. Most struggle and suffer because of the extreme prejudices they face.
As allies to the LGBT community we can help change these struggles.
We can make sure that all people are accepted and treated equally.
Trans visibility is key, but without our speaking up for the community, for our friends and family members, change will be slow.
We must make this a seismic change. For my boys. For all trans people. For the world.
A 2016 poll found that there are between 0.5 to 0.6% people who are transgender in the US.
This would put the total number of transgender Americans at approximately 1.4 million adults.
This is her journey:
I’ve been searching high and low for support groups for women – moms in particular – whose former husbands are now transgender.
I’ve never been involved in blogging or online communities, but a friend of mine said great things about Band Back Together, so I thought I’d give this a shot.
I am a very private person, so it might take me a while to share my story, but this is a start.
My story all begins in August of 1976, my birth mother was 17 and was pregnant with me. So before she had me she had my sister who is supposed to be 4 years older than me. That would put my birthmom at 13 when she had her. That daughter was taken by the state and considered unadoptable because she sat in the corner and rocked back and forth. Well fast forward to 76. I was told her parents had told her she had already made one mistake and if she had me they would disown her. So she threw herself down two flights of stairs. She ended up going into labor and because I was seven or so months gestation I survived I weighed 4lbs5oz well she took me home and life began. It was said she was a drug user and abuser and that while she was under the influence she would hold me under water to watch the bubbles come up. I was also told she used me as her personal ashtray. I was also told she would use her foodstamps to buy drugs cause back in that time they were like paper money and were traded for real money or drugs. Anyway my adopted mother was telling her best friend how all she wanted for Christmas was a baby. Well the best friend had a sister and that sister knew my birth mother. So oneday when my moms second husband was at work or somewhere he came out to his car and there I was. I was dressed in a dirty T-shirt that they had used as a makeshift diaper. So he took me home and zipped me up in his coat this was winter time in Charolette NC. So he goes in to the house and unzips his coat and shoes me to my mom. My mom then begins adoption proceedings. Well I had to go back to my birth mother and I was told she burned all the dresses my mom bought and didn’t use the burn cream for my bottom where she used me as an ashtray. So my mom finally gets me and my birth mother tried to stop the adoption because she would lose her benefits. The judge didn’t allow it so I was adopted at 14 mo old and I weighed 11 pounds. Then when I was about two my moms second marriage ended because her second husband threatened to kill me because I wouldn’t stop crying. So she moved back home with her parents. Well we lived with them till my mom remarried to my dad and he adopted me to give me his last name. Well every time I was adopted my birth certificate was legally changed to represent my current parents and their respective ages at the time I was born. However many years later my mother confided in me when I told her of abuse from a family member that had happened. She told me her father my granddaddy whom I called daddy for years had molested her until she came back home with me after I was adopted. Only after she returned home did she confront him and say it was over. So I think possibly she got pregnant by him and moved away remarried and had me. But everytime I tried to talk about my adoption and wanted to search she would tell me to talk to my granddaddy he was supposed to have all the paper work well he would tell me to go see my mom that she had the papers. This man never threw anything away so it’s odd to me that the papers were never found which also makes me think something shady happened. But no one in the family that is left will talk about it. My granddaddy was a raging alcoholic for years and only stopped drinking when the dr told him if he didn’t he would die he abused my uncles and my mom. But my records are sealed as it was all considered a private adoption and unless I have a terminal illness or need an organ that my children can’t provide or something on that level I’d have to petition the courts to unseal my records and they can still deny the request. So I don’t know the truth for sure and it doesn’t really matter I guess other than to finally have answers. I hold no ill will to anyone involved no matter which story is true. I feel bad that my mom suffered that abuse I’ve been abused sexually and I know how that feels. I just wish I could know the truth just so I’d know where I belong. But as the time has passed I have an awesome husband and three great kids so I have a family I’d just like to have medical information. So there it is my story I hope it helps.
