3 Life Truths I Gained In Coming Out to My Boys
By: Dave Smurthwaite
Tags: Parenting, Family, Self-awareness, Creative Non Fiction, LGBTQ

A lot of things scared me about coming out as transgender to my four boys.

“They’re too young to understand,” I told myself to justify my silence. “It’s not something they need to know yet.”

But as the urge to come out increased, I knew I could no longer ignore the truth of the situation.

Not only did my boys deserve to hear it from me first, I would need their blessing before opening myself (and our family) up to the world.

What I had been telling myself was that I was protecting them by not speaking about it.

In reality, I had been protecting myself.

I was scared of their reaction, scared of how it might affect our relationship. I worried that, once out there, that they would never look at me the same way.

The night everything changed

It was a January evening and we were wrapping up for the night. Dinner had been devoured, teeth had been haphazardly brushed, and it was now time for bedtime stories.

Only, unbeknownst to them, this was the night I would share with them the untold story of my life.

What they taught me in their response not only reassured me of their incredible capacity to unconditionally love, it inspired me on my path forward.

I began my story hoping to educate them but it was they who educated me, almost without saying a single word. By the end, I walked out of their room reminded of three important truths:

Every story is worth hearing Every person is worth loving Every problem is worth sharing

Every story is worth hearing

When I was around my boys’ age, my father sat me down in his office to have a talk.

It wasn’t about the birds or bees but rather about the fragility of the human experience.

You see, my father was a good man but he, like all fathers, had made mistakes. He wanted me to know he wasn’t perfect. However, in an age where parental transparency and vulnerability were uncommon, the awkwardness of the exchange left me with more questions than answers.

I wanted a different experience for my boys, which meant getting real about my confusing history with gender.

I feared they might cringe at my life experiences.

Instead, they simply listened. They listened so simply, in fact, that I wondered if they’d really heard what I had shared.

Wasn’t it troubling to know a father struggled with his sense of gender? Wasn’t it odd to think of your dad trying on his mom’s old makeup and clothes when he was their age?

It turned out it wasn’t.

Every person is worth loving

When I finally decided to approach my boys, I wanted to make sure the conversation wasn’t about me.

I wanted it to be about them.

I wanted them to understand that at their age, I was going through really hard things so they could understand that “hard” was normal for them as well.

that at their age, I was going through really hard things so they could understand that “hard” was normal for them as well. I wanted them to see that, no matter what they were going through on the often rocky path of adolescence, that they were loved and always worth loving.

that, no matter what they were going through on the often rocky path of adolescence, that they were loved and always worth loving. I wanted them to feel loved , not in spite of their unshared stories but precisely because of them.

, not in spite of their unshared stories but precisely because of them. I wanted them to know that their father, their mother, and every adult that they looked up to was just like them. We all have unshared stories and concerns about who we are in the world. We all fear being discovered and rejected for our abnormalities.

that their father, their mother, and every adult that they looked up to was just like them. We all have unshared stories and concerns about who we are in the world. We all fear being discovered and rejected for our abnormalities. I wanted them to realize that being abnormal doesn’t make us unlovable. It makes us perfectly human and perfectly lovable.

There were so many things I wanted them to understand.

What I didn’t anticipate was how much of it they already understood.

In their simple response, I realized that they were the byproducts of an entirely different upbringing — raised in a world where diversity was more celebrated than ever before, where differences didn’t equal division.

I had hoped to teach them that every soul is worth loving.

What I learned was that they understood it far better than myself, especially when I was their age.

Every problem is worth sharing (with someone)

One of the purposes of my conversation with my boys was to ask their permission to share my story publicly.

Knowing they would be on the front lines of any unlikely personal or family criticism, I needed their blessing before proceeding.

If they showed any concern, it would be my signal to pull back, wait, and even be willing to forever keep my story between those I loved most.

It was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make for them.

But instead of having reservations, they seemed to find my request perfectly normal.

“If you want to share,” they told me, “that’s fine with us.”

“Are you guys sure?” I asked, wanting to ensure they knew how important their story was in my life story.

“Yeah,” was all they said — all they needed to say.

It was then I realized I had been imagining our conversation through an outdated lens.

I had been raised in a world where gender and attraction had always been hidden.

Unlike me, my boys were being raised in an era where every story was worth sharing, especially when it has the power to change someone else’s life for the better.