Take a SOFFA Break
for significant others, family, friends, and allies of trans people
Now, more than ever, is a great time to contribute to my ongoing For Trans Families, With Love anthology. It’s open for submissions, and I’m waiting for your art, your words, and your voice to be part of it. Please share this widely so that anyone who wants to participate can find the link.
Having joined a local trans support group several times for myself, I decided one night to join the breakout room for significant others, friends, family, and allies (SOFFA). I’d brought that group up to my wife on a few occasions, and it clicked for me that maybe I could get something out of it myself. When I joined, I outed myself right away, feeling like I needed to verify that it was okay to have a trans person in a group meant for… well… Who was it really for? And did I qualify?
It was a small gathering that night, maybe just five or six of us total. Everyone there welcomed me warmly right away. They assured me that yes, trans people were more than welcome to join. After all, I’m an ally and a parent and a friend, too. I think they also felt some kind of fascination at my presence, like we were two sides of a coin suddenly getting to face one another in a friendly place.
I listened for a long time as the other people expressed things happening in their lives. Some had newly out partners or spouses. Some were navigating parts of their family member’s transition. At least one was the parent of an adult who was trans. One person expressed their worry over an upcoming wedding. They knew there were family members who would be hostile to their spouse, and they didn’t know whether they should shield them or let them stand up for themselves. They all listened and nodded warmly when I talked about being the parent of a trans child.
Their voices were so strong in that shared space. But the content of what they shared was heavy and could not often be shared anywhere else. The people they loved deserved to have positivity and joy around them during critical moments of their transitions, and so these amazing family members came here to cry and share their own fears and express the parts that felt like their worlds were breaking apart.
And I sat among them, my own identity split in two, and both parts of me stretched thin like pulled taffy.
I was every one of their family members. I wanted that joy. I wanted that support. I needed it. It felt like survival to hear it from them. And the last goddamn thing I wanted to hear [as a trans person] was that they held grief and anger and hurt over my transition. I pressed myself against it like holding back a concrete wall, resistant and defiant and viscerally willing them to NOT FEEL THAT WAY about something so fucking gorgeous as transition. It broke me to hear the same words that my wife had said to me come out of the mouths of these wonderful, loving, kind people.
She had told me about her grief, and I wanted none of it. She had told me that she was sad, and I yelled at her not to steal oxygen from my happiness.
And here were all of these people I had never met before, every one of them well within their rights to feel and experience everything my wife had felt, and I could not take that from them.
It was painful and difficult, but I listened. I listened to their stories, I shared in their laughter, and slowly, very slowly, my wife’s voice overlapped with theirs. There was nothing wrong with how she felt. Her grief and fear were just part of how she processed these changes, and my resistance to that grief was unfair. Of course we weren’t going to have the same experience. We couldn’t.
When you start out as a trans person in trans groups (online or in person, it doesn’t matter), we share stories with one another about how we shouldn’t tolerate the sadness of our family members. We should demand that they accept us. We should be able to expect them to get our names and pronouns right. And if they screw up, we can walk away. If they suggest something like a funeral for our “old selves,” we should be righteously indignant (okay, that one still gets to me)1. Their sorrow doesn’t belong to us, and we should not have to bear it.
But as the family member of a trans person, we might still have those feelings. We feel sadness or a longing for what was, we grieve over the loss of identities or stories or things we believed. We worry about our trans loved ones because the world isn’t safe, and we struggle with their growth and self-acceptance while we try desperately not to say the wrong thing.
How ferociously human of us on both sides.
I sit in a particularly privileged position as a trans person who is also the parent of a trans child. I’ve asked those around me to use new pronouns for me, but I have also had to adjust to new pronouns for others. I’ve experienced the joy of transition and held space for the fear of a world that simply is not safe for trans people of any age. I have removed pictures of myself that I couldn’t look at, and I’ve had to take down pictures of my child that he couldn’t abide. I have felt the loss of names. I have felt the freedom of being myself. I have felt fear. I have felt joy.
But now I also feel okay with those around me needing their own time and space to process what my changes mean to them. Transition begins inside of one person, but it finds new meaning as those around us share in it.
If you are a friend or family member of a trans person, here are a few things I recommend:
Reach out. Find a support group, get in touch with a friend, and look for others you can share your feelings with where your trans family member does not have to hear or know about them. I’m listing this first since it’s so important. You need an outlet and a safe space where you can vent or yell or cry without those actions impacting your trans family member. Sometimes we just need a moment to say it out loud so that we can let it go or let it change or figure out the important parts we really do want to tell our trans family members. By the way, you’re always welcome to email me.
Breathe. Growth and change are hard. Your trans family member is going through a lot, and they’re likely asking or hoping for your support, but you are also going through change and growing, and you need support, too.
You don’t have to be perfect today or tomorrow. Small steps are easier—and sometimes more meaningful—than big ones.
You will screw up. Lean on your support group, friends, or me. We’ve got you. Don’t let fear hold you back from trying.
Take time to learn. Your trans family member should not be your go-to resource for information or questions you might have, but you still need answers. You’re always welcome to ask those questions here,
evenespecially if they feel hard to ask. You can also check out places like the Human Rights Campaign (HRC), Advocates for Trans Equality (A4TE), PFLAG, and TransParentUSA to learn more.
If you’re a trans or genderwild person, I encourage you to join a SOFFA group to hear the thoughts of folx you don’t know. Sometimes it can help us hear similar things that our own family members say that are difficult to hear from them. Entering that space does not mean you are required to correct anyone or give them feedback from your perspective. Listening can be incredibly valuable. If you do choose to speak in a SOFFA group, please be respectful of how your words may impact the relationships those individuals have with their family members. Some of us need more time to grow and change than others do.
Is it strange to spend all this time talking about supporting trans and cis family members when the world is actively targeting trans people in legislation and erasing us from public life? No. In fact, I think this is the best time to talk about how we can support one another. Today, right now, another trans/intersex/nonbinary/gender-amazing human has just been born into a family that might have no idea what’s to come for them. We are everywhere, we are real and valid, and we deserve to become a world that welcomes and loves trans people and their families.
If you, or someone you care about, needs critical support right now, please reach out to the Trevor Project (for youth) or TransLifeline (for adults) to talk to someone who can help.
Your trans friend,
Robin
This is a real thing—friends or family members of trans people will ask for or arrange a “funeral” for the old version of that person so that they can (ostensibly) lay their grief to rest. If you’re a trans person, having this done to you (with or without your knowledge) can feel like a real violation of your existence. Some trans people might feel okay with it, but I would recommend erring on the side of caution here. Please don’t do this.
This is so sensitive and so helpful. I hadn't heard of actual 'funerals' but it makes sense of an awful conversation we had with a very close family friend who suggested to my son that he might be grieving for the 'loss of his brother' (his trans sister). My son's reply was, 'She's not dead!' For me, the difficult aspect of my adult child's transition is constantly fearing for her safety in such a hostile world -- it's this that crushes the joy she deserves.
Robin, you have be absolutely in tears over here. This is beautifully written and rife with raw emotion and truth and I just want to say thank you for sharing this vulnerable part of yourself with the rest of us. You've touched my heart ❤️.