In 2017, my family stumbled into public advocacy when a photo of my daughter went viral. Rebekah was 10 years old, standing at a rally holding a sign that read “I’m the scary transgender person the media warned you about.”
She wasn’t scary. She was just a little girl with bright pink pigtails protesting that all kids should have access to safe schools. Her existence didn’t require a warning. She was just like the over 2 million LGBTQ+ young people who wish for nothing more than to be loved and supported by their families, like all young people. Eight years later, the narrative suggesting transgender people are a threat persists, escalating in recent weeks. Yet my daughter is no scarier today than she was then.
The world feels scarier, though.
When Rebekah transitioned, my husband and I were nervous about what being transgender might mean for her future and safety, so we committed to doing the work of educating those around us. We committed to the work of changing hearts and minds to create a world that would be truly safe for our daughter and every young LGBTQ person like her.
But the moment we’re in feels like a gut punch to our past selves. Those optimistic parents, naive to some, charged ahead, determined to change the world. Except, we weren’t naive. We were rooted in everything we knew to be true about transgender youths, and every one of those things remains true today.
First, transgender kids are just like other kids. With love, support, and acceptance, they have the chance to not only survive but thrive. Research shows that having even just one supportive adult in their lives can make a world of difference for LGBTQ youths. Second, we must listen to young people when they tell us who they are and what they need. Transgender youth have had to do the work of understanding their own identity and articulating that identity to others. Trust them.
And finally, LGBTQ youths do not struggle because there is something inherently wrong with being LGBTQ+. Instead, they often struggle because of the uniquely hostile world around them. Beyond harmful policies and political rhetoric, a recent study shows that nearly 60% of LGBTQ youth reported experiencing at least one form of parental rejection, such as taunting, mocking, or speaking negatively about them being LGBTQ. Our youth are not only experiencing stigma and isolation from our laws and leaders, but also from within their own homes.
But we can change that.
Rebekah is many things: a pastor’s kid, a field hockey player, and a singer. And, yes, she is transgender. Regardless of the world’s preconceived notions, she has persevered with the love and support of her family, friends, and community. She graduated last year as high school valedictorian and is now in college studying government. Fear has not prevented my child from thriving, and I continue to be in awe of her joy, her humor, and her relentless hope.
The world is scary, yes, but our kids still know who they are, and if we’re lucky enough, they’ll share it with us.
National Coming Out Day is an opportunity to begin showing up for your child, providing them with what they need to thrive, and affirming who they know themselves to be. We can’t change the world by ourselves, but my family is proof that we can change how our children experience this world – and Rebekah says it best.
Rebekah Bruesehoff essay national coming out day
Rebekah Bruesehoff attends the Ms. Foundation Women of Vision Awards, where she was granted Peggy Charren/Free To Be You and Me Award, in New York City, 2023 Astrid Stawiarz/Getty Images Ms. Foundation for Women
From Jamie’s daughter, Rebekah
At eight years old, when I came out, my parents walked with me. I was young enough that it never felt like me “coming out,” but instead us discovering who I was together. Their willingness to listen intentionally and trust what I was feeling empowered me to share who I was with others. They educated and advocated on my behalf with our extended family, my school, and our church. They acted as a barrier between me and anyone who might not understand. Looking back, I see how their love and support gave me the space to grow confidently in my identity.
At the same time, they surrounded me with positive examples of what it meant to be transgender. From my very first copy of I Am Jazz by Jazz Jennings, I was given books that showed me I wasn’t alone. They amplified role models like Laverne Cox and now Congresswoman Sarah McBride to show me how transgender people were making a difference in the world. Their loving actions formed the way I see the world.
Now, I strive to be a model of possibility for others as an author and an advocate.
On National Coming Out Day, I want you to know you can lay that kind of foundation for the LGBTQ young people in your life by taking the time to learn from their experiences. While the world questions our humanity and denies our dignity, you have the chance to make love louder and to fill your homes with hope and possibility.
Jamie and Rebekah Bruesehoff essay national coming out day headshots
(from left) Jamie Bruesehoff; Rebekah BruesehoffCourtesy Pictured
Jamie Bruesehoff is an award-winning LGBTQ+ advocate, author, and mother of three, including a transgender child, Rebekah. Rebekah Bruesehoff is an 18-year-old college student, author, and award-winning activist who is passionate about finding joy and spreading hope.
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This article originally appeared on Out: A mother and her transgender daughter on what Coming Out Day really means