From a mom in Spain 🇪🇸.It’s difficult not to think in mothers from Scotland 🏴 or everywhere.
“10 months ago today family life took an unexpected turn. My daughter, who’d dropped out of school due to very serious mental health problems, left a letter headed: "Mom, I'm trans."1/7
“I took a breath, relieved, an hour ago she had gone for a walk and I came to think that it was a suicide letter.
Years of bullying, attempting suicide, changing schools, depression, psychotic breaks, hearing voices and seeing shadows, self-harm, mental block, bulimia,...What 2/7
else could I expect?Never expected her being trans. In the letter, it caught my attention that she said she discovered it recently thanks to internet...That didn't make sense to me, how can someone find out who she is through social media?
Talking calmly with her, she assured 3/7
to me that she had been born in the wrong body, that we had assigned her female at birth…I didn’t believe that speech.She asked for hormones and a mastectomy, that we call her with masculine name and pronouns bc her friends already did it, those friends who 8, as far as I 4/7
know, are trans, one of them my niece.
Now, 10 months later, she is not sure about the hormones or the mastectomy. We speak to her in feminine and we use the name that lovingly we gave her at birth.
Months working on her self-esteem with her therapist, his guardian angel, she is
smiling again.
But from now on, with the #Translaw we expose ourselves to the fact that the prudence we have used to heal her discomfort, costs us an economic fine. For the moment we have been able to avoid Social Services.
Yes, a fine of up to €150,000 just for asking for 6/7
PRUDENCE and treating all the mental health problems derived from her bullying, when is the only logical solution that any father and mother who loves their daughter more than their own life would do”. 7/7 #NoToSelfID#StopLeyTrans#NoContabanConLasMadres
Hace casi 2 años mi hijo deja una carta para mi. Una carta con dibujos y letras de colores. Una carta escrita con su letra infantil, donde el mensaje fue que en realidad era una niña. Que es trans. No pude disfrutar sus dibujos, y los colores aparecían en completa disonancia con
el mensaje. Quedé en blanco. No hubo nunca ninguna señal y yo intuí que su relato no calzaba. Decidí buscar, investigar. Entré a foros de padres que decidieron acompañar a sus hijos en la transición. Ninguna de sus historias resonaba en la mía. Encontré por ahí la carta de
una madre que dudaba del auto diagnóstico de su hijo. Eso era! Un auto diagnóstico. Luego encontré un libro, luego un documental, luego otro y otro libro, artículos, papers. Tengo la suerte y el privilegio de hablar inglés. Es un privilegio que puede reforzar la prudencia, que
A year ago, I had never heard of #ROGD#DIGR. Until I received “the letter”. My 15-year-old son, who has never had any problems with his body or his sex, tells me that he is a girl. When I started reading “the letter” I thought that it was announcing his homosexuality, that it
was going to be liberating, that it was a sign of growth, that we were going to be able to talk about it and that perhaps it was related to his deep depression. That was not what I read. I read the unexpected, the nonsense: I spent years taking care of his childhood and reading
his feelings, his needs. That girl never showed up. As a society, we were living the backlash of child sexual abuse, which taught us that children must be believed, we came back from recognizing that homosexuality should never be questioned or demonized. My progressivism and
Hace un año, nunca había oído acerca de #ROGD#DIGR. Hasta que recibí “la carta”. Mi hijo de 15 años, que nunca tuvo problemas con su cuerpo ni su sexo me dice que es una niña. Cuando comencé a leer “la carta” pensé que anunciaba su homosexualidad, que iba a ser liberador, que
era un signo de crecimiento, que íbamos a poder hablar de eso y que quizás tuvo relación con la depresión profunda que estaba sintiendo. No fue eso lo que leí. Leí lo inesperado, lo que no tenía sentido: Dediqué años a cuidar de su infancia y leer sus sentimientos, sus
necesidades. Esa niña nunca apareció. Como sociedad, vivíamos la resaca de los abusos sexuales infantiles, que nos enseñó que hay que creer a los niños, veníamos de reconocer que la homosexualidad nunca debió ser cuestionada o satanizada. Mi progresismo e identificación histórica