So I've been trying, and failing, to write a suitable letter to give to my grandparents concerning my trans* identity. As they live multiple states away, it isn't exactly feasible to call them up and ask them to drop by for a quick chat. Hence the letter. I just need others' opinions on whether it hits key notes, answers possible questions while leaving the topic open for discussion, etc. All that fun stuff. Any, and all, help would be greatly appreciated. Should I sign it with my taken name? Should I tell them my plans in terms of surgeries and hormones, or is that TMI? Dear Nana and Papa There is something very important that I’ve needed to tell you for a long time. I felt a letter would be best, what with the physical distance between us. It wouldn’t feel right to taint your week up here and your happiness with this heavy matter, and it would be even less right if I were to tell you this while a guest in your house. It also gives you time to think before having to respond and me the time to get this right and not fumble with words. (Which knowing me is still going to happen, but this’ll at least minimize it.) I am a man. Yes, I am quite aware of my anatomy, please don’t point that out. Mentally, I feel male, and the discrepancy is incredibly painful. The technical term is FtM (female to male) transgender and with a quick Google you can see that you’re not alone in this boat. I love you, always will; that’s why I want to tell you this, who I really am. Try to keep an open mind. It’s hard to understand, I know, it was hard enough for me to come to terms with, and I certainly don’t expect you to understand completely. I just hope that you’ll still love me and stay in my life. This is a whole lot of beating around the bush but I’m terrified. I’m afraid to lose you but equally so of never sharing this with you. My hand is shaking and my heart is pounding as I write this. Please know that I love you always. As far back as I can remember, I’ve felt only the barest connection to my sex. If I ever looked towards the future, puberty was not an option. It was something that happened to other little girls, or I didn’t think about it at all. (Frankly, I didn’t like to. Even then the thought of what it would do to me disgusted me.) Sure dresses were nice, comfortable, but that changed once puberty hit. That was my first experience where I consciously said, “No, not this. I don’t want this.” It hurt. More than the period pains inherent to womanhood, my very soul ached with a deep rooted sense of wrongness. Worse was hearing about how much you, my parents and other family loved [given name], when inside “[given name]” was the last person I wanted to be. It felt like cruel mockery rather than praise, and every “ma’am”, “lady” and “girl” was a condemnation. Long hair was suffocating. Skirts were degrading. Bras and panties were humiliating. I’ve struggled with this for years. This was not thought up in the past week or months or even year. I hate feeling disgusted by my own body. I hate cringing when I refer to this mass of estrogen soaked flesh as ‘mine’. It may sound ridiculous to you, having never felt something like this. The best I can describe it is that while my body and chromosomes declare me female, internally, within my mind, I am male. A man. My parents know, and have known for three years now. It’s why mom was so dead set against me getting a haircut. Maybe it was deceitful not to tell you before you got my hair cut. For that I apologize. Please don’t demean me and call this a phase. Please don’t insult me by telling me I don’t know myself. You have a choice now: to love me despite the fact I am transgender, or not. You can keep me, or don’t. I’ve tried for nearly four years to change my mind, to somehow fix myself and make myself a girl, but I can’t. Maybe that’s selfish of me. Sorry. I can’t keep living like this, so I needed to come clean and tell you. I’m still the same person as always. I still love you both to the moon and back times infinity squared. Again, I don’t expect you to understand completely. I just needed to be open and honest with you, because I love you too much to do otherwise. Love, Your grandbaby Once again, thanks in advance.
I think it sounds quite good. It goes over the basics in a heartfelt way. One question: would you want to reference Caitlin Jenner? I realize she was MtF, but it might help them understand if they don't already. Good luck!
Not sure honestly. We discussed it briefly and their reactions (more on the positive/accepting side of neutral) were what ultimately pushed me to come out to them. At the same time, it may undermine the gravitas of the letter if I bring up sensationalized accounts of transsexuality...
I think your letter is so well thought out, loving, respect and straight forward. You open up to them in the letter and bring them into your thinking. Your letter has all the right ingredients! I can't even say I would word a single thing differently. I wish you the very best of luck on your journey, Ichor!
I thought your letter was extremely powerful, I don't even know you and I could just feel every word. I think it's respectful, well thought out, and as I said; powerful. In my personal opinion, referencing Caitlin Jenner would draw quite a ways away from you, and the fact that this is your message. If they reacted positively to the idea of Caitlin in the past, then I think that's a good sign, but I think that talking about her in the letter would take away from it. I wish you the best of luck, and I hope everything turns out okay for you!
Okay, I gave it some time and space and this is the final draft. (Don't know when I'll send it but that's semantics!) Dear Nana and Papa There is something very important that I’ve needed to tell you for a long time. I felt a letter would be best, what with the physical distance between us. It wouldn’t feel right to taint your week up here and your happiness with this heavy matter, and it would be even less right if I were to tell you this while a guest in your house. It also gives you time to think before having to respond and me the time to get this right and not fumble with words. It’s still going to happen, but it’ll at least minimize it. I am a man. Yes, I am quite aware of my anatomy, please don’t point that out. Mentally, I feel male, and the discrepancy is incredibly painful. The technical term is FtM (female to male) and with a quick Google you can see that you’re not alone in this boat. I understand if you need to grieve for your lost granddaughter. You’ll never see her walk down the aisle and you won’t have any biological great-grandchildren from her to spoil. But there is a grandson waiting for you in the wings, if you’ll have him. I love you, always will; that’s why I want to tell you this, who I really am. Try to keep an open mind. It’s hard to understand, I know, it was hard enough for me to come to terms with, and I certainly don’t expect you to understand completely. I just hope that you’ll still love me and stay in my life. That was a whole lot of beating around the bush but I’m terrified. I’m afraid to lose you but equally so of never sharing this with you. My hand is shaking and my heart is pounding as I write this. I’ve gone through about sixteen iterations of this letter, trying to get it right. Please know that I love you always. As far back as I can remember, I’ve felt only the barest connection to my sex. If I ever looked towards the future, puberty was not an option. It was something that happened to other little girls, or I didn’t think about it at all. (Frankly, I didn’t like to. Even then the thought of what it would do to me disgusted me.) Sure dresses were nice, comfortable, but that changed once puberty hit. That was my first experience where I consciously said, “No, not this. I don’t want this.” It hurt. More than the period pains inherent to womanhood, (sorry Papa, but we're all adults here) my very soul ached with a deep rooted sense of wrongness. Worse was hearing about how much you, my parents and other family loved [given name], when inside “[given name]” was the last person I wanted to be. It felt like cruel mockery rather than praise, and every “ma’am”, “lady” and “girl” was a condemnation. Long hair was suffocating. Skirts were degrading. Bras and panties were humiliating. I’ve struggled with this for years. This was not thought up in the past week or months or even year. I hate feeling disgusted by my own body. I hate cringing when I refer to this mass of estrogen soaked flesh as ‘mine’. It may sound ridiculous to you, as I assume you've never felt something like this. The best I can describe it is that while my body and chromosomes declare me female, internally, within my mind, I am male. A man. My parents know, and have known for three years now. It’s why mom was so dead set against me getting a haircut. Maybe it was deceitful not to tell you before you got my hair cut. For that I apologize. Please don’t demean me and call this a phase. Please don’t insult me by telling me I don’t know myself. You have a choice now: to love me despite the fact I am transgender, or not. You can keep me, or don’t. I’ve tried for nearly four years to change my mind, to somehow fix myself and make myself a girl, but I can’t. Maybe that’s selfish of me. Sorry. I can’t keep living like this, so I needed to come clean and tell you, sooner rather than later. I’m still the same person as always. I still love you both to the moon and back times infinity squared. Again, I don’t expect you to understand completely. I just needed to be open and honest with you, because I love you too much to do otherwise. Love, Your grandbaby
