Gen X Conditional Love Trap

One night I received a phone call from a woman I’ve known since we were teens.

Her child had recently came out trans. She told me that her child was in a local hospital for a suicide attempt. I pulled my car over and collected my breath as I asked her how she was and how her child was.

“He doesn’t want to see me. He hates me for not accepting him,” she said flatly.

I took a deep breath and quietly counted to ten so as not to lay into her. This was not the time for that. Something more important was at play.

“You got his pronoun right just now,” I said. “It’s a start.”

Conditional love is deadly.

Backstory

Her and her husband wanted to talk to me shortly after their child came out. This has happened several times in my life over the last 12 years.

Most of the time, if a parent asks to talk to me, they are accepting and supportive in their hearts, just a little lost. But it was not the case with this couple. They were looking for confirmation bias that this is not what their kid is.

When young people who know I am an accepting parent reach out to me, they are in crisis stage and often on the edge. They either fear their parents will not accept them or they have come out and their parents do not accept them. The pain when this happens is incalculable. It is deadly. When I am talking to a teen youth who’s family do not accept them, I am fighting for that child’s life. When I am speaking with parents who do not accept their children, I am fighting for that child’s life. This is not hyperbole.

This mother who almost lost her child was one of those parents who did not accept or affirm. She is the perfect white liberal and her husband is the sensitive but strong executive. These are not people wearing MAGA hats spouting off Bible verses they did not understand taken out of context. But these liberal parents who hashtag metoo, blm and meme ad nauseum about being allies would not use their child’s name or pronouns. They would not love their child as he is for who he is.

Conditional love is deadly.

The Conversation

I remember my last conversation with them before their child tried to end his life. It did not take long for me to realize they were not on board. I saw the danger they did not. I feared for his life, they only saw their bias.

The dad looked at me and said, “How could she know she’s a boy. How? I didn’t know what I wanted to do for a living at 15.”

Thinking on my toes I answered swiftly and tapped into the 80’s locker room this man and I grew up in. I replied. “Neither did I, but I bet you had a crush on the girl in math class when you were 15. As you stared at her and let the imagination wander, you likely had some tingling going on. You had no clue what you were going to do when you grew up, but you knew you wanted her. So you knew you were straight and you were cisgender. You did not need a career counselor to tell you which magazine to fap to and you knew you liked having your penis in those moments, man.”

He stared at me for a long moment. The gambit worked. He was on the cusp of getting it and I could see his heart soften as love began to win.

It was almost as if his wife sensed his position beginning to change. She doubled down. She was firm. “I have a daughter. I gave birth to and raised a daughter. And I will not call her a him or a them or any other such thing. I have a daughter and her name is (deadname). You don’t understand my kid or her needs. She’s doing this because she thinks her friend Ari is awesome and want to be more like whatever that kid is. You think this is about non acceptance. Our kid changes her mind all the time.”

“We’re not talking about guitar and ballet lessons here,” I started to reply, “This is…”

“This is over,” she cut in. “We’re done. Good bye.”

It was less than three months after that night their son tried to suffocate himself by hanging. Fortunately he was scared and not terribly good at the engineering required. He escaped without long term injuries.

I Don’t Get It

Most of my Gen X peers know the pain of parents and/or grandparents that do not accept them as they are. As we get older I hear more conversations of the lasting pain. I know this pain too. And I don’t get how easy it is for my peers to be like this. Most of the conversations that go south like this are coming from my generation. Not the Millennial parents. It happens with the Mels sometimes, but it is the exception to the rule in my experiences.

I used to work a crisis hotline for teens. Not every call went well and the thought that I may have been the last voice a young person heard and that voice may not have been enough to counter mom and dad is not something I can describe to you.

How hard is it to love someone as they are?

Is being right worth the life of your child? Is controlling the narrative because you do not want something to be true worth the risks?

I’ve never seen a family who accepts and affirms their child regret it. I see parents and children bond even closer. I have seen grades go up, behavior change for the better, and depression and anxiety ease. Additionally, I have seen trust in the family improve. Not all of these things have happened in all families, but there is one universal truth.

No parent that accepted and affirmed their child that I know has ever regretted loving and celebrating their child as he, she or they are.

Why This Story in the Third Act of Pride Month?

Because I got a phone call Sunday evening and learned about another young person I knew who was better with the rope. The world has lost a beautiful smile and kind spirit and it could have been different if their parents had been more kind, more loving, and more accepting. They failed at love.

Writing this is about the only thing I can do keep myself from going to the liquor store down the street. Since my Miami Vice article where I said I was bi I’ve had a few horrible conversations with some people I thought were friends and felt the deafening silence of others. I’ve had some beautiful people come forth and say good things, but it feels like whispers in a cacophony.

If I were younger and enduring this I would not be here today.

We are the feral generation and know what it is like to be judged, ignored, and not accepted. The Breakfast Club is our battle cry regardless our political or religious affiliation. Of all the generations running about we should be the ones leading the charge of unconditional love more than we are.

Conditional love is deadly.

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