The Story Behind "A second letter to our children"
After writing my transition memoir, Can’t You Wait Until I’m Dead, and hearing from several agents and publishers that there were already too many transition memoirs out there to sell another one, I decided to pivot to fiction. It took about a year to write Can’t You Wait and another year to write the fictional version, The Transformation of Jennie Heckenlaible.
After I transitioned, I became a voracious reader of Young Adult stories, specifically queer ones with female protagonists. They took me back to my high school experiences of friendship, first romantic interests, and all of the awkwardness of being a teenager. So my version of fiction was to set my adult transition in high school and imagine what it would have been like during the same years, 2015-2022. Rather than setting The Transformation of Jennie Heckenlaible in my Midwest high school, I moved it to a high school in the city where I was born. I have no memory of the city, because my parents moved when I was two, but there were dramatic political changes in Colorado that I could weave into the story. A secondary perk was getting to know the schools, parks, and businesses of my first hometown through Google Maps, YouTube, and other websites.
I subscribed to the local paper and scoured its archive for trans stories, discovering that there really weren’t any to speak of, probably due to the conservative politics of Northern Colorado. But I kept reading the paper to immerse myself in the city’s culture, and soon came across an opinion column in the paper entitled “A Letter To Our Children,” where the writer said:
Feminism seemed to elevate girls and women. But somewhere in the past four decades, it’s turned into a gnarly, twisted movement aimed at destroying natural-born women and tearing apart their Godgiven counterparts. It’s become a dark, maniacal, diabolical movement to destroy our sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, cousins, uncles and neighbors. The agenda of modern-day feminism is demonizing the male sex, somehow making our sons ashamed of being boys. Itʼs encouraging our schools to put doubt about our childrenʼs sexuality into their brains. Encouraging boys to become girls at young ages and vice versa and teaching sexuality to children is unwarranted. Our society has a virus, and it isnʼt COVID. Young ladies and gentlemen, do not trust modern-day feminism. The root of it is evil.
I couldn’t let the anti-trans, anti-feminist rant go unchecked, so I replied with a piece I’d drafted first in 2018 for the It Gets Better Project. To my surprise, the editors published my letter.
A.M. Kirsch: A second letter to our children
I was inspired by Stacy McCloud’s recent guest column and my 57th orbit around the sun to write a letter for all those kids out there who were like me growing up in places like Greeley.
Life can be really confusing when you’re young. I was born with a male body and was only attracted to girls. I also never thought of myself as a boy or man, but my anatomy was an irrefutable fact. I wanted to play with girls, and I identified with the plight of the girls and women around me, but I was never comfortable enough to say what I really wanted. I realize now that everyone around me discouraged me from expressing my femininity for one reason or another. Family and peers policed gender, and I was the kind of kid who did what I was told. There were gender tests on the playground to ensure I walked, dressed, and looked at my fingernails and feet the “right” way.
Most had my best interests at heart because they knew I was sensitive and cried a lot, and they didn’t want me to get hurt mentally or physically. Even today, when there is more awareness of the gender spectrum, I don’t think anyone would have said to me, “You might be trans.” It’s probably the last thing a parent wants for their kid.
In Greeley and the other rural communities I grew up in, LGBT was never discussed around children or youth. The stories of trans trailblazers weren’t published in our local paper or had long since faded when I entered elementary school in 1971. It was hard for me to recognize and acknowledge my female gender identity when adults hid trans people from view.
Back then, it would have made all the difference in the world if I had known other LGBT adults and youth. I had no frame of reference and never realized that there were other people like me, so I never told anyone. I looked like a boy and was attracted to girls; being white, a life of privilege awaited me. Consciously or subconsciously, I tried to express myself, covering my bedroom inside and out with designs of pretty dresses and putting on a bra and earrings when I goofed around with my girlfriend, but for the most part, I kept quiet.
What was the downside? Why do I think it would have been better if someone encouraged me to explore my gender identity and transition earlier? Never knowing who I really was, I never found my place in society. I never found those friends or kindred spirits to provide support going through high school. I also had a few years of depression and suicidal thoughts. Despite the risk of bullying and upset parents, it would have been worth it to be honest with myself, to have friends, and to have all those years of happiness back.
If you’re afraid now of what the future holds, realize that it only gets worse if you don’t plan for a future where you can be yourself and love who you want to love. It does get better when you stop living according to other’s expectations and do what makes you happy—to live for yourself. You can’t help but find support and make a positive change in the world when you find a way to take that first difficult step.
I wish I could say I corresponded with Stacy McCloud, but I never reached out, and neither did she, so the story ends there. If you’d like to read the story of my adult transition as if it happened to me in high school, I’ll post it for paid subscribers in the coming weeks.
What did you think? How are you doing? I’d love to chat…