On my father.

December 25, 2024

It is the five year anniversary of my father abandoning me on Christmas Day.

A year had passed after I came out to him in a blunt but honest letter explaining how I had internalized the transphobia he frequently spewed during my childhood, and how it had kept me in the closet for a quarter century.

I remember sitting next to him while he drank beer and laughed at poor trans women exploiting themselves on Jerry Springer to survive. I remember how he would publicly taunt the few trans people we ever encountered in my hometown as a little boy, teaching me vile slurs most frequently heard on PornHub. I remember how confusing it was to try to reconcile the inexplicable draw I had to these people with the disgust for them that my father instilled in me.

I found myself in Florida for Christmas that year, visiting my then-best-friend’s family in Boca Raton. I had recently been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and was on disability leave from work for the first time following a massive mental breakdown. As far as I knew, my father still lived in Fort Myers — a geriatric retirement town on the gulf coast 150 miles away. The last time I visited him, the trip ended in an explosive argument with his racist brother in a Cracker Barrel parking lot about the “hoax of global warming”.

Had he the courage to face the real me, I fantasize that his pride would have overflown. However, like every other achievement throughout my life, that pride is a vicarious theft of what I have fought for and rightfully earned. These belong only to myself, and to every powerful matrilineal woman in my family tree.

On the topic of motherhood, since Nylah was born, this holiday has shown some promising, subtle signs of changing into something that has the chance to heal my family’s past hurt. This beautiful child saved my sister from addiction, eventual overdose, and things somehow worse. Maybe she is the missing ingredient to a happy and healthy Christmas that apparently everyone else has been enjoying their whole lives.

Her radiance contributes to my persistence in battling the hate and political violence that is escalating every day. Every time I see her smile, it restores my motivation to stay alive. So, maybe, this Christmas will be the reason I stay.