Mothers are strange sometimes

[sandra-leigh]

I managed to pop over to visit my mother for a couple of days, with my last visit 11 months ago.

My mother knows that I am transgender but I do not talk about that with her much. She does not know or understand how much I have transitioned already.

This visit I had bright red nail polish, hair down to the tops of my breasts, earrings, and a couple of tank tops that accented the existence of my medium A-cup boobs. And I carried my kimono purse (designed to be worn with one) everywhere.

My mother did not mention anything about the obvious changes. What she did nag me about was over having dyed my hair brown a few months ago. Everyone has been positive about my new color, except my SO, and now my mother. They say that the compliments I have been getting are false flattery, and that they are the only people who have been willing to tell the truth. I have had too many good things said about my hair to think it has all been flattery.


Not a word over the obvious changes, not a concern about the boobs: just concern about hair dye.

[Nicole Erin]

People do not often give "false flattery" compliments out of the blue.
If you asked someone what they thought and they said something nice it could be false flattery but if you don't ask and they compliment, I would say it is genuine.

[Chari]

IMO your mother is trying to not face your obvious trans issues at this time. Rather, she is "nagging" you about items that she may feel are easier to accept - or not! She probably knows and can see the obvious changes, but prefers to have you start the conversation. At least she seems to be accepting to part of your transition. As for your hair color - if YOU are comfortable and confident with it, by all means enjoy it! Not everything we do in life will please everyone - including mothers, so you've got to please yourself!

[Princess Grandpa]

The important hing here, is how do YOU like the color change?
Hug
Rita

[MysticLady]

I Love my Mommy.........:bh:...............:p

[Princess Grandpa]

It's probably for the best I didn't understand what was going on until after she passed. She might have had difficulty with this and I just hate lying to people. Especially people I love. However, if I discovered it before I got rid of her wardrobe and stuff.

Hug
Rita

[Alexis.j]

Mmm, I have a similar issue with my mom, claims to support me, but does not like it, and criticises most things I do.
I personally don't think its the hair color issue as much as the fact that she doesn't like what you are doing...
My harts with you on this one.

[mikiSJ]

I am glad my mother is dead!

[Wildaboutheels]

Sandra it seems obvious your mother does not approve of what you are doing. The hair color change comment is simply a convenient and "safe" way to berate you about it. Safe in that hair color change is something that even normal people do.

I also think at least some of the compliments from your friends work the same way. It's a safe way of expressing that they like YOU by complimenting you on a change that even "normal" people do so they complete sidestep any appearance of judgement on your progress otherwise.

[Angela Campbell]

I am glad my mother is dead!

Oh my god! I would rather me be dead! I am sorry you feel that way.

[anonymousinmaryland]

To Miki, in SJ: I'm sorry. I think that's a terrible comment. No matter what . . .

[KellyJameson]

When a parent is preoccupied with themselves they will see the child as an extension of themselves so only be concerned how the child reflects them as successful parents in other peoples eyes.

Parents like this carry massive amounts of guilt because they know they have damaged the child so in their guilt must either control the behavior of their adult children or go into denial.

Children are not individuals but only mirrors that they hold up to see their reflection and when you do not reflect back to them what they want to see you than become invisible to them.

[groove67]

my mother died early in my journey but was totally accepting of me. she said she always knew I was a fem boy but thought once I got married things would change but she could see that I did not. she was a hair stylist and very set in her ways as how she looked hair perfect , makeup perfect and dressed to the nines. told me if you are going to be my daughter then always be a lady. I miss her so as she was a rock for me in early trans with losing wife and fighting for my daughters. so my experience with her was totally 360 the other way.

[whowhatwhen]

Wow, lots of us have similar moms.
O_O

It's kinda like "I support you but can't you just be a man?"
That's the big thing, to them we're all men who will hopefully grow out of this "phase".

[mikiSJ]

Ellen and anonymous

You didn't have to live her for 17+ years and she is still e[[ing with my soul, 15 years after her passing!

[Angela Campbell]

As I said, I am sorry you feel that way.

[Nicole Erin]

I guess we all have at least one parent who is a PITA about our transition.
My dad (really step-dad) doesn't care for it, my mom never gave me a bit of grief about it.

[DebbieL]

What color was your hair before? If you went from white to brown, it's probably a shock, but others are telling you the truth. If it's a light brown and you went dark, or went too far in the other direction, that can also be awkward. A cheap dye job can also be a mess. Better to go to a salon where you can get lots of highlights and a natural look. If it's ALL exactly the same color, it looks like a cheap wig.

Both of my parents knew I was transsexual from when I was very young, actually they knew I was "different" the day I was born (no nuts). Furthermore, my father was also feminine, and a test he took diagnosed him as "75% female". My mother was a tom-boy as well, often getting into trouble for wearing pants.

What I didn't find out until just before my father died, was that they resisted and discouraged my gender issues because they were trying to protect me. Transition wasn't legal in the united states until the very late 1970s, and even after that, it was more like mutilation than modern SRS until the late 1980s. The treatment for transsexuals in the 1950s and 1960s, was barbaric. Electroshock, without the benefit of sedatives or paralytics, lobotomies, even full frontal lobotomies were the preferred treatments. My mother had been through electroshock 30 times a month for a month, 3-4 times per year for about 3 years. Even as an adult, they had to trick her, trap her, and take her by force because the experience was so horrible and terrifying. There was no way she would let anyone do that to her little boy/girl - whatever I was.

Mom let me play with girls when I was very young, and when I was caught dressing, she bought me some tights, but my dad wanted me to have a matching t-shirt and cape so I could be like superman - giving me a male context. He was trying to rescue me from the kinds of abuse and bullying he went through as a kid. None of us knew there was no escape.

When I was 10, and the same size as my mom, she would take me shopping with her, and let me help her pick out clothes. She got lots of compliments, but after wearing it 2-3 times, she would put it in the charity pile, meaning I could take it. She also got a wig, to cover a bad dye job, or at least that was the excuse. I could get fully dressed and throughout the summer, when my brother and sister would go down the block with their friends, mom and dad were at work, and I was alone in the house, I'd get dressed most of the day in the fashions of the late 1960s, miniskirts, boots or heels, and the wig. I'd even do make-up. There were even a few times I'd go out for a while, but I was afraid my walk would give me away. I didn't know how much heels would improve it. I had terrible curvature of the spine, which give me a big girly butt, but as a boy they made fun of me because "you walk like a duck".

When a friend spotted the teddy I was wearing under my boy-clothes, he told the other boys, and in Jr High, they all assumed I was gay, that I liked boys. Given all the violence I'd experienced in Elementary School, the LAST thing I associated with love, romance, or sex, was males. Several boys invited me for sleep-overs, and tried to make passes, but I politely declined their offers. I understood their desires, and had compassion for them, but couldn't appreciate their offers.

I barely survived puberty and made it through high school with the help of booze, drugs, and theater, that kept me from killing myself. I went to a girls college where I could be one of the girls, even though I had to keep my secret to my self. I had 2 friends who knew the truth, and they could be trusted.

I told my future wife, knowing that if she could not accept Debbie (she didn't have a name yet), that I could not marry her. She pretended to accept, and we got married and had two children. Eventually, the truth came out, that she could not accept, and we went our separate ways. I came out at 30 and nobody was surprised. My sister always saw me as her older sister more than her older brother, my brother never saw me as much of a man, and my mom knew all along. My dad knew, but really struggled with it. Perhaps part if it was that he was jealous. He loved me, he wanted me to be happy, but he was very uncomfortable and didn't want to see or talk about Debbie.

When dad was about to die, he said "I'd like to know the real you", and I asked him if he was sure. He nodded, so I switched to being Debbie. I didn't go radical, wearing shorts and camisoles most of the week, along with women's sandals. I had long hair (I had been growing it out) and it was too hot to wear a wig. By the end of the third day, he thanked me for "being myself" and was sorry he never got to know me earlier. Later, when I was scratching and rubbing his back to make him more comfortable, he asked "Where did you learn to take such good care of me?", and I said "From you dad, from you". Later that night, he held my hand, an told me "Be yourself, even if that's Debbie". The next day, he lapsed into a coma, waking only enough to wave at friends who came to visit, and the following morning, he took his last breath.

Shortly after he died, I began to transition again. Restarting RLE, gender therapy, and eventually starting HRT. At my age, I'm tired of pretending to be what I am not, pretending not to be who I really am, and having to be dishonest and deceiptful nearly every waking moment of my life. It hasn't been easy and I've had some disappointments and struggles, but I'd rather be authentic and living than inauthentic and wishing I was dead.