I have always been somewhat fearful of the future for trans kids. Of the future of my trans kid. I try not to label her, both to allow her to grow and explore her gender and her identity and to avoid getting abuse for letting my six-year-old be herself.
I’ve been increasingly scared for her future. She’s very certain she’s a girl, certain of herself and I have no reason to doubt her. I have no reason to force her to be someone she’s not. I’ve never influenced her other than to say she can be whatever she wants. Most parents tell their kids they can be whatever they want when they grow up. It just happens that I meant it in regard to their gender as well as their career.
I am trans non-binary – Genderfluid to be precise – I lean more towards masc or nothing genders, depending on how I feel. I am 40. I’m old now, I’m not worried about my future, my safety, or my life. I figure if nothing else, I use a crutch some days and I fancy my chances.
But Flower, Flower is six. She’s a good kid.
With the murder of Brianna Ghey, my fears have been realised.
I always thought it would be okay. I’ve tried not to delve too deeply into my fears because I was hopeful that it would be okay. That my love and care and protection would be enough.
I thought it would get better.
I thought I would get a referral for GIDs now so that by the time she’s moved up the years-long waiting list she would be ready.
I thought I would save up and pay for private gender-affirming healthcare.
I thought I’ll always be there to protect her.
I’m sure Brianna’s parents thought that too.
I cried on the way home from work thinking about her, thinking about my Flower, thinking about the state of the world. I cried silently because I didn’t want to explain to anyone I knew on the bus the complex nature of my fears. How I am devastated over the murder of a child who I never met.
When I walked in the door, Flower yelled “Bow’s home,” and I burst into tears. I hugged her and told her she was brilliant. Hugged my wife. Hugged my toddler. They made me tea and gave me more hugs. Beany, my toddler, thought I was tired. Probably because of how often we say she’s tired when she’s crying in the evening.
Flower sat on my lap while I cried, and told her how much I love her, that I’ll always be here for her, will always look after her. And I will. To the end, whatever end that may be.
I explained my tears as well as I could to her without telling her how scared I am for her future. How someone has died, that I didn’t know her, but it upset me a lot.
One day I’m going to have to tell my child how much the world already hates her.
