The air is clear today. The sky is blue. You can feel the trees giving a sigh of relief. It only rained for a few hours, but at least it rained. And maybe that’s why I feel renewed, ready to do things and face things and work toward things.
We’ve recently begun telling friends and family about something that’s been brewing for a while now but wasn’t ready to be told earlier. Part of Peter’s extreme depression over the last year has been caused by gender identity issues. He wants to be female. This is always a complicated issue, but it’s way more complicated for someone on the autism spectrum. For now, Peter is asking to be called Julia, and to be referred to by female pronouns. So from now on, I will do this in my blog, as we have been doing at home. She isn’t interested in changing the style of her clothes or her appearance at this point.
If you had asked me what I thought about transgender issues a year ago, I would have avoided giving a definite answer. That’s what I do. I avoid controversial issues. I avoid giving opinions. I try not to get involved.
Well, I’m involved now. But I’m still trying to avoid the thought of being involved. This is my child, the baby I was so excited to have, the complicated mystifying vulnerable human being in my care. Love is what matters. Whatever the name, whatever the pronoun.
It isn’t easy though. Not for a reserved person such as myself. “How are the boys?” an old friend asks. “And is this Peter?” the neighbor asks as we’re out walking the dog. What do I say?
I’ve never been good at knowing what to say. Maybe I’ll get better with practice.