Recently I read this article about parents of trans kids that resonated so hard it nearly shook me out of my chair. Why parents of trans kids are a special kind of tired. It talks about how exhausting it is to fight, day after day. It is exhausting when your child is different. Not because your child is different. But because the world is seriously messed up when it comes to understanding and including difference. And for a while after I read it, I slumped in my chair feeling very seen, and very, very tired.
Well it’s a jungle out there,
the year 2018 I didn’t think
we’d still be sorting babies into blue and pink
and all our progress, well I wonder what it means
when the only girls’ clothes that work for me turn out to be boyfriend jeans
well that’s fine, ‘cos I decline
your narrow set of rules that just don’t work
‘Cos these red lines? they’re not mine.
And if you need me, you can find me ironing my shirt
‘Cos I’m in black tie tonight
Send a postcard to my year 11 self
in her year 11 hell
darling everything’s gonna be alright
no you won’t grow out of it
you will find the clothes that fit
Grace Petrie, Black Tie.
But as people ask me how my kids are doing I’m starting to realise how phenomenal our support network is. Because when you ask me what’s going on for us I will tell you about the friend my child has who supports them at school and won’t hesitate to take on the other kids who make transphobic and homophobic comments. This friend squares up to the other kids and tells them to pull their heads in. Which means that my child isn’t always defending themselves. Sometimes they are defended. And that is a beautiful thing.
And I’ll tell you about three of the friends I know through work, who had probably never heard the term non-binary in a context outside computing until I started talking to them about my child. Those friends are now having conversations with their friends and family about what it means to be non-binary. Those friends and family are largely interstate and many of them will likely never meet my child, but when they next meet a non-binary person they will have a clue. Maybe use the right pronouns, and not make assumptions about bathrooms. And that is a beautiful thing.
And I’ll tell you about the non-binary adults we know who have adopted my child with their whole hearts. Who fight for them. Support them. Love them unconditionally.
And what all of these beautiful, beloved people have in common is that they don’t choose to hide in their own burrows and fight only their own battles. They certainly could! They all have a lot going on in their own lives. Their own trauma to manage. Their own stresses to deal with. They have no immediate need to speak up, to stand up, and to make a difference.
None of us really has any immediate need to stand up for anyone else. It’s much easier, goodness knows, to avert our eyes and walk on by. Some days there’s no spare energy for anyone else.
But the people who do stand up… they really change the world. When you’ve not been in a position to need someone to stand up for you, perhaps it’s difficult to understand the impact. But when you’re exhausted, and battling all the time just for your right to be… well then someone else taking up the metaphorical cudgels on your behalf, even just for a moment, is a truly extraordinary thing.
People who see someone being harassed and go stand beside them. People who speak up to defend others. People who see problems that don’t directly affect them, and yet work to fix them. These people are my heroes.