leelah

My kid E came out to me as transgender in November 2014.  He didn't want to share it with my spouse right away. E held it inside for many long weeks. I encouraged him to be honest with my spouse, that he would love him NO MATTER WHAT.  E viewed this as me trying to force him to come out before he was ready. It was a difficult time.

In late December 2014, E came out to his therapist. It was a relief to have some professional advice and a referral to the Children's Hospital Transgender Clinic. I felt hopeful that E would feel comfortable sharing his news with my spouse sooner rather than later. The next day, we heard the news about Leelah Alcorn.

Though I never knew Leelah, I feel her story has become intertwined with ours.

Leelah was a transgender teen who lived in our city. Her family was not supportive of her transitioning and sent her to conversion therapy, to try to "cure" her. They isolated her from her friends and constantly misgendered her. She became so desperate she ended her life on December 28, 2014. She posted a note to her Tumblr that became a manifesto of sorts and brought worldwide attention to her situation in particular, and trans issues in general. Earlier this month, President Obama announced that he was in support of a ban on conversion therapy, as a direct result of the grassroots effort to get Leelah's Law enacted. 

On January 10, 2015, my spouse and E and I attended a local vigil for Leelah. It was an incredibly powerful experience, one that I feel ill-equipped to describe. Over 600 people joined together to honor Leelah and stand together as a community to try to make the world a better and safer place. Trans adults and teens took turns at the microphone and shared some of their personal experiences. At one point, all of the trans kids stood in a group as the adults formed a circle around them. We held hands and linked arms and made a pledge to protect and support them throughout their journeys.

When we went to dinner after this event, E came out to my spouse. I believe that if our family had not experienced Leelah's vigil together, he would have lived in silent turmoil for much longer than necessary. 

Leelah's life meant something. Leelah's life MEANS something. Leelah's life touched mine and changed me. And my story is nothing special. I have come to know of many parents of trans kids who were so moved by Leelah's story that it changed the trajectory of their own. One mother in particular, who was not accepting of her trans son when he first came out, told me her mind was changed instantly when she heard about Leelah.

Last week I attended an event hosted by the local newspaper that featured ten speakers from our LGBTQIA community. One of them was Abby Jones, a close friend of Leelah Alcorn's. Abby's voice was soft but strong as she opened her heart to us and shared cherished memories of her friend. As Abby stood on that stage and talked about John Green and videogames, and the simple pleasure of shopping at the mall with her best friend, I saw my own kid. And I saw Leelah and all the other people I know living in a world that doesn't understand them. And I cried. In sorrow and gratitude for a girl I never met, but who has changed my life for the better.

 

After the speeches were over and my tears had finally stopped (or so I thought), I went to the bathroom where I found myself face to face with Abby. I wanted to tell her everything I just wrote here. But my throat closed up and all I could manage was "Thank you."  And this young woman, full of grace, opened her arms and hugged me. She had just shared memories about a deeply personal loss with a room full of strangers and here she was comforting me.  I wanted to tell her how much her friend's life had touched mine, but I was worried it would seem selfish to make that moment about me (that's what blogs are for!). So instead I hugged her back and awkwardly asked her if I could get her email address so I could write to her when I had time to compose my thoughts.

 

The speeches from that event have been posted online. Here is a link to Abby's, and here's one given by Jason and Zay, which started me off crying in the first place. For a review of the whole evening, you can click here, and try to spot a photo of me in between emotional breakdowns.

 

I am sharing this in a blog post rather than a private email to Abby because I think visibility matters. If anything is going to change, Leelah's voice and Abby's voice (and even my croaky crying voice) need to be heard. I can feel change happening already. Let's keep talking.