Anon’s Story

(they/them)

My parents are divorced. Still, though, they tell each other everything. In middle school, my mom would often go through my phone every time I got in trouble and got it taken away.

She told my dad without talking to me first. I'm always excited to go to my dad's house, but I already had a bad feeling the day I did. I had just walked into the house and my brothers had just wandered out of earshot when he casually asked me why in the world I was telling people I didn't know if I was a boy or a girl. I was terrified, honestly. I had been outed- again, by my mother- about a year before, and he hadn't reacted well to that news, so I could only imagine what he'd say about this. I didn't know how he knew, either, and by the time I put the pieces together, he had already taken my silence for an answer. He sighed and told me to stop- it was "upsetting your mom". 

I don't know if he knows I cried after he walked away.

My parents aren't the worst at this, all things considered. They don't call me the t-slur, or threaten to kick me out, or tell my friends off if they use they/them on me. They just kind of... pretend it isn't there. They call me their daughter, only let me get feminine pixie cuts until I cut my hair myself, buy me makeup and only approve if it looks feminine. They act as though I am not really there, as though I am a placeholder for a daughter who is not coming back. 

Luckily, though, my friends are supportive. I live in a rural county, so sometimes their families aren't very welcoming, but my peers amd my teachers are, so for now, that's enough.

Even if it can be scary, correcting someone on my pronouns or introducing myself with my chosen name, it's nice to know that somewhere in the room, there's at least one person who will stand up for me- whether it be my friend to his dad, or a teacher to my mother.