Ayler, 9, Northern Florida
Ayler, 9, Northern Florida
Ayler’s Mom- We sent a letter to family and friends before Ayler entered kindergarten. It took us a long time to trust that this was a good decision. We had been wrestling with these feelings, and the desire to allow Ayler to be herself from a very early age, beginning at about 18 months. We had to trust her, of course, but we also needed validation from experts – doctors, specialists, other parents – before we could trust that this was in her best interest.
Looking back, we notice so much we didn’t when events weren’t framed by this conversation of gender. She’d always be attracted to sparkly things, loved wearing my shoes and playing dress-up, crawling over to the board books in the library that were more “feminine”. We have a short video clip of Ayler in a high chair looking at some “mini-masters” board books from MoMA and in it, there was a touch and feel lace collar. She loved this lace collar and would say “oooh! Her a collar!” over and over. Little things like that...an obsession with Degas dancers in art, Disney princesses, etc. She also had a complete meltdown one year (maybe age 2?) when her uncle bought her a Hot Wheels loop track. She cried and cried and said she wanted a Snow White dress instead. It was heartbreaking.
Ayler does not like to talk about being transgender. We still see a therapist, and we’ve been going to the endocrinologist every six months (now every three), so the topic is one that comes up often. We also, Dan and I, started PFLAG St. Augustine, so there are monthly meetings, books around the house, etc. I’m also a librarian and have an opportunity to travel for work. We just did an author meet-and-greet with transgender teen activist Jazz Jennings. I thought this would be so wonderful for Ayler, but she really resisted. I think she’d just prefer not to think about it. She doesn’t want to have the transgender label.
She is a girl. She’s never felt anything other than a girl, and she doesn’t understand why we have to talk about it endlessly. I worry about her. I am concerned. Maybe she just doesn’t have the vocabulary to express what she wants to say, but more than anything, I think she just wishes we’d leave it alone.