The Psychic Toll of Living a Lie
A Transgender Child's Perspective
What price do we pay for living a lie? Here I'm not referring to a transgender person pretending to be someone they're not before they come out - though that does take a tremendous toll. No, I'm talking about the lies I am required to tell to maintain a relationship with parents who refuse to see me for who I truly am. There are so many lies every day – lies of omission, lies of commission, lies to them, to myself, to others. It is exhausting.
I can't be called by my chosen name – the name that reflects my true identity – without a fight. They outright reject and deny who and what I am. But they won't call me by my deadname either, as my beard and presentation make that quite awkward for them, so they resort to using a childish nickname from my past. But I'm not a child anymore. I'm 25 years old. I'm tired of being infantilized with this fake nickname, and the lack of basic decency and respect of using the name I prefer, just like they do with every Dick who prefers Richard or Rick. I'm tired of pretending that their rejection of my identity doesn't hurt, and it is too exhausting to fight this fight day in and day out.
They have no idea how to introduce me to people. When we met the new neighbors last week, they couldn't introduce me as their son, as they refuse to consider me as such (not with their outdated notions of gender), but they refuse to acknowledge me as their daughter - again, because beard. They asked me how I wanted to handle introductions, but when I told them it's not their problem and that I would introduce myself, they balked. I don’t want them introducing me as someone I am not, and they made it clear they do not want me being honest to the new neighbors, because speaking the truth about myself would shatter the veneer of reality they have built around themselves - one where I am not their son, but not their daughter. I don’t even know how to refer to myself around them anymore, at least not without “causing another fight again”. So in that moment, I did not know what to say that would be “safe”, so I just stood there, saying nothing. It's awkward for everyone. Then they have the audacity to say I don't enjoy social occasions. What a surprise! How can I when these are the conditions I must operate under? But according to them, I should be grateful for their "support" and love.
They can't ask why I have no friends, because they don't want to hear the truth. The friends I had in high school – they couldn't accept me for who I am. The friends I've made in the LGBTQ+ club in college and the local community? My parents' discomfort and disrespect make it impossible for me to bring them around. It is already embarrassing and hurtful enough when I am home with them, how do they expect me to invite anyone over? How could I bring my friends over only to have them witness me being humiliated by my own parents like that? Or worse - if my parents are happy to treat me this poorly, how hurtful and rude would they be to my friends? Better I keep my friends and support as far away from my parents as possible. I can at least protect my friends from my parents, and lean on them when it is my turn to need support and love from them. At least I have them and the social support network they provide.
My parents are getting ready to retire, but they use me as an excuse to stay home. They lie and say they want to be there for me, but the truth is, they're afraid to leave me alone because they don't trust me to take care of myself. They infantilize my gender identity as “mental health issues”. They pity me, thinking I'm lonely, but they're the ones who have made it impossible for me to have a fulfilling social life. Yes, I still struggle with anxiety and other challenges, but these are not a result of my gender identity - they are a result of living in a world that constantly seeks to invalidate and erase my existence, threaten me with violence, and when my own parents reinforce these fears and ideas? When they agree with the laws being introduced, or the rhetoric that drives LGBT folk to suicide, or incites others to engage in violent acts against me and my friends? Of course I am going to be anxious and depressed. If my parents were my champions in my corner, as opposed to my opponents and oppressors, maybe I would have finally have the support I need, to be strong enough to face many of these challenges head-on, and overcome my fears and anxieties.
They can't talk about their concerns for my future without revealing their true feelings. They question whether I'll be able to support myself, live alone, find love, and have a family, but what they're really saying is that they don't believe I can be happy or successful as a transgender person. They swallow their words, but I can see the disapproval and doubt in their eyes. They don't realize that their lack of acceptance and support is one of the greatest barriers to my happiness and success. Every time they misgender me, use my deadname, or refuse to acknowledge my identity, they chip away at my confidence and sense of self-worth. It is really hard to accept being loved by another, or even to try to introduce yourself to someone, to date, when your own parents can’t even manage to find you worthy of love.
I'm sick at heart at their inability to see or admit the obvious – that their "support" is conditional and toxic. They claim that transitioning hasn't helped me, that I'm not really a man, that I'm just confused or misdiagnosed. They refuse to see how their rejection and invalidation have contributed to my struggles, magnified them - sometimes beyond what I can handle on my own. They insist that I'm not "born in the wrong body," but they're the ones who are living in denial. How can they possibly know this, when it is my body? How can they be so blindly certain, when they cannot feel and know what I do?
Any attempt to broach the truth is met with resistance. When we try to have an honest conversation, it often devolves into hurtful and hateful comments. When I try to bring forth science, data, facts, and evidence, it is all waved away as “fake” or falls under some inane conspiracy theory of some medical industrial complex? And when I try to share what I have experienced, I am accused of lying, being delusional, or re-writing history to fill a narrative. I have been called “delusional”, “mentally ill”, ”sick”, ”liar”, and “probably just a sad little lesbian caught up in the trans cult indoctrination by her friends”. I've had to warn them that their behavior is unacceptable and that if they continue to say such toxic things, I will be forced to move out again and create a safe space for myself, free from their negativity. It breaks my heart to have to set such boundaries, but I don’t know how else to reach them, I have to look out for my own well-being at some point. How can they believe I am the indoctrinated cultist, when I have the science and evidence to support my claims? I am not the one feeding the Matt Walshes, Ben Shapiroes, Colin Wrights, or Christina Buttons and Lisa Littmans out there. I am not funneling part of my retirement income on people and their books built on demonstrably false pseudoscience and lies. But I guess that’s me, the kid infected by the woke mind-virus. Sigh.
They say they love me, that they've always been there for me and always will be. But their love comes with strings attached, and those strings are slowly suffocating and strangling me. All I feel is the weight of their expectations and the pain of their rejection. They're paying the price of their own denial and rigidity, but I'm the one who bears the true cost of their conditional love.
I know that my transition has been difficult for my parents, but I also know that the true cost of denial is far greater than any temporary discomfort or uncertainty they may feel. By refusing to accept me for who I am, they are not only hurting me, but they are also depriving themselves of the opportunity to know and love their son fully and authentically.
But hey, there's a new movie on Netflix, so let's watch that together and pretend everything is fine. After all, they're the ones who have to live with the psychic toll of living a lie, not me. I'm just trying to live my truth, even if it means facing the painful reality of their rejection. I hope that one day, they'll find the courage to see me for who I really am, but until then, I'll keep paying the price of their lies.
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