My Voice: Transgender children dream of equality

Dear Gov. Dennis Daugaard:

I am reaching out to you because your upcoming decision on HB 1008 impacts my daughter, my family and so many others across the nation. I’m reaching out to you because your state stands on the precipice of becoming the first in the nation to make a law like this. And while I’m reaching out to you, this is really a letter to all the governors – from Maine to Virginia to South Dakota to Washington – who are being asked to make the world less safe for my daughter.

Over the past 18 years, I have become somewhat of an expert on transgender children – and the impact that others have when they do not understand what it means to be transgender.

My daughter, Nicole, is transgender. When she was younger I fought every step of the way to deny what I now know to be true. I had to live it to understand what it means to be transgender. When Nicole was not allowed to be who she is, she suffered in ways we cannot fathom. When we validated that she is a girl and let her be a girl at school, she was happy and successful.

After I learned that the suicide rate for transgender children is 10 times higher than the average student population, I started to really listen and watch for signs of trouble. There were many indications that my child was in harm’s way. But protecting her meant I would have to also learn to grow, as well.

It was not easy. I had to reach deep down into my soul to ask myself what was I afraid of? Upon reading this, some people will suggest that I am a left-wing hippy, an unfit parent who should be reported to social services. The truth is, I am a military veteran and fairly conservative man. Like many fathers across the country, I am extremely focused on protecting my children and helping them become confident adults and good Americans.

Nicole has lost a number of transgender friends to suicide and she’s read the news stories about transgender people who have been murdered simply because of who they are. I cannot describe in words how difficult each conversation following a friend’s death has been. I am very concerned that you might support laws and policies that will require I do it again. I cannot fathom telling her or her friends that there are powerful people who are still afraid of them.

For my family, these conversations are not new. Nine years ago, my daughter – and her loving and supportive brother – were targeted because a small group of good Americans feared the unknown. They didn’t understand that Nicole was a girl and as such, she should be in the bathroom that was consistent with who she was. They didn’t understand that it was her safety that was in jeopardy.

My wife and I had to sit at the breakfast table and explain to our children that it is normal for people to be afraid of new things. But we also had to talk about unimaginable dangers. Then we told them how proud we were of them, explained that it is important to fight for what you believe in, and shared that using their voices to help others will carry them far. We put our children on the bus that morning not knowing if they would be safe that day or any other. Soon after, they stopped riding the bus. Soon after that, we fled our hometown.

We left so that our kids could have what all parents want for their kids – the opportunity to attend a school where they were just another student, with no fanfare, no trouble, just kids learning and encouraged to believe in themselves. In her new school, Nicole wouldn’t be forced to use the nurse’s bathroom. She wouldn’t be crushed by the constant reminder – for her and her classmates – of her otherness. She wouldn’t have to worry about being harassed in school.

Transgender children across the nation go to school everyday afraid – a survey by the HRC Foundation found that three-quarters of transgender students feel unsafe in school settings. They sit in class and learn about powerful words, like courage, freedom and equality. Words that transgender people know well and dream will one day be true. Words that some of our leaders talk about but have forgotten how to use.

If I could meet with you and your fellow governors, I would sit down with you and ask, “What are you afraid of?” These kids just want to go to the bathroom, maybe visit with their friends to discuss their day, to laugh and just be kids. Why does it have to so hard? Their classmates do not care and they are not afraid. It is time to listen, watch and learn from them to understand that being transgender is not a big deal.

Governors, I hope you will demonstrate the same courage that transgender children use everyday to survive. I am asking to use your voices and your pens to do the right things to protect all children, to help children grow no matter their race, religion, sexual orientation or gender identity.

MY VOICE

Wayne Maines of Orono, Maine, is a U.S. Air Force veteran, an emergency safety professional, a husband, and the proud father of identical twins, one boy (Jonas Maines) and one girl (Nicole Maines). The story of the Maines’ struggle to keep their family whole in the face of anti-transgender harassment and discrimination was chronicled in the book, “Becoming Nicole: The Transformation of an American Family.” My Voice columns should be 500 to 700 words. Submissions should include a portrait-type photograph of the author. Authors also should include their full name, age, occupation and relevant organizational memberships.

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