Today marked the start of a new school year for my children. My eldest daughter woke up eager and enthusiastic at 6:15 a.m., ready to reunite with her friends and dive back into learning. My twins, a son and my youngest daughter, who is transgender, were a bit hesitant but prepared for their first day of kindergarten. Having spent the last two years in preschool, they were familiar with morning routines and being cared for by someone else. The school they’re attending is not entirely new either, as they’ve been there alongside their big sister. They know the playground, the principal, and some of the teachers.
I am well-acquainted with the faculty and staff, the other children, and their parents. I’ve developed a close relationship with my kids’ school. While I wouldn’t classify myself as a helicopter parent (not typically, at least), I’m not involved in the PTO (sorry, that’s not for me) and I participate in a limited number of volunteer opportunities. My involvement is driven by advocacy; my kids have two moms, one of whom is non-binary, and one of my children, Alex, is transgender. I recognize that my family is different, and so do others.
For the past year, I’ve had the privilege of collaborating with our school’s principal to foster a welcoming and affirming environment, enriching the curriculum with LGBTQ representation for all students. Just two days ago, we attended the annual ice cream social for kindergarten families. They met their teachers, explored their classrooms, and toured the school. My eldest asked to sneak into her new classroom, so I left my twins on the playground while we peeked into her second-grade class. As she found her seat and traced her finger along the fish tank, I noticed a stack of books on her teacher’s desk. At the top was “I Am Jazz,” with several other LGBTQ-themed books underneath.
That moment overwhelmed me—not just because I had suggested a list of books, but because I felt heard. Each teacher received a budget to diversify their classroom libraries. My family is being recognized. Every classroom is striving to ensure that all children, including my transgender daughter and my two-mom kids, feel included. Our existence is being normalized in spaces that celebrate our identities—our labels, traits, and personalities.
This morning, I had different reactions when saying goodbye to each of my children. My eldest was fully prepared. I was ready too. We hugged, and I let go. My son was ready but a bit shy and anxious. I shared in his nervousness, hugged him, and released him. My daughter, Alex, felt ready yet cautious. I could sense her observing her surroundings, taking in the new faces she would meet over the coming weeks. This way of sizing things up is part of her nature, as she assesses who she can trust.
Though I was ready, I too felt guarded. I scanned the environment, wondering who might challenge us, who would make our existence difficult, and who would judge us harshly for our differences. I hugged Alex tightly, but I had to let go. I can’t be by her side every moment, nor do I wish to be. She has friendships to build, lessons to learn, and challenges to face independently. I’ve worked hard to create safe spaces for her to land when she stumbles, and while leaving her in her classroom, I felt a cautious optimism.
She will manage, and I will too. However, I am acutely aware that I now have a transgender child navigating the public school system. We often find ourselves as pioneers, sometimes the only ones, setting a standard for those who will follow. I feel supported, and I know she is as well, but it would be naïve to think that love and support are the only things we will encounter.
While I do not live in fear, I remain vigilant. Though I hope for positive interactions, I must prepare for any scenario that may arise for my daughter and our family, including the hurtful ones. It’s essential for me to do this. I will carve a path for my child with my emotional resilience, allowing her to let her guard down. She deserves to live with an open heart, just as all children do.
All kids deserve the faith and trust to assume that those around them are allies. And you know what? Humanity deserves to see us—me and my kids, and all LGBTQ individuals—through a lens of acceptance. That perspective is truly beautiful.
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In summary, my journey as a parent to a transgender child as she starts school is filled with both hope and caution. I recognize the importance of creating a supportive environment while remaining vigilant against potential challenges. Ultimately, every child deserves acceptance and the opportunity to thrive.