The Best Mother (Besides Mine) Of A Transgender Child

"I have lucked out in at least one area:  the Mom department."

I told my mother that once. More than once, actually.  But not often enough: I couldn't.

So why haven't you seen an image of her on this blog?  Well, she doesn't like being photographed, so I have only a few pictures of her.  And she does not want any photo of her made public.  She really doesn't like it when people call attention to her, which is the reason why I haven't written more about her on this blog. 

Since I can't put Mom's picture up on this blog, I'm going post the next-best thing: a video featuring another fantastic mother of a transgender child:


 
Happy Mother's Day!

"You Must Be Nick"

Last night I came to Florida, to spend the holiday with Mom and Dad.  This evening we went to dinner at the Tuscan Grille in Flagler Beach.  I recommend it if you're in that part of the world:  I very much enjoyed my pasta e faggioli and Tuscan Artichoke Medley, which included artichoke hearts, sundried tomatoes mushrooms and fusilli bucati.  The bread was hot and crusty, and the olive oil they provided for dipping had just the right combination of spiciness and earthiness.  Plus, the service is very friendly.

Now, I didn't intend for this post to be a restaurant review.  I'm mentioning the fact that we dined out because of something that happened when we arrived.

My father made a reservation in his name.  That is to say, his first name:  Nick.  When we arrived, we were greated by a warm, effusive man whom I believe is the owner.  Anyway, he looked at my father and declared, "You must be Nick.  And you're here with two lovely ladies."

I didn't have an immediate reaction:  I haven't responded to that name in a long time.  That's ironic when you consider that I kept "Nicholas", my former first name,  in my current name.  Actually, I always intended it to be part of a hyphenated name:  Justine Nicholas-Valinotti.  But, it seems, everyone forgets the hyphen so it becomes a sort of middle name.  In a way, I don't mind:  In some cultures, some women's middle names are those of male saints, relatives or other figures. And, in many Catholic countries, especially those in which Spanish or French is spoken, some men have their language's version of "Mary" as a middle name:  think of Eugenio Maria de Hostos and, ahem, Jean-Marie Le Pen.

Anyway, I kept "Nicholas" partly out of respect for my parents and because, I realized, attempting to deny or whitewash my past would be futile, and probably unhealthy.  On the other hand, my old nicknames (If that isn't a pun, it should be!) of "Nick" and "Nicky" have all but disappeared from my normal consciousness.  I have long since stopped turning my head when someone mentions or calls out either of those names--although, I must admit, I probably paid more notice than I otherwise might have to a student I had last year whose name was Nick Valenti.

I'll admit that, in recalling that encounter in the restaurant, I was very happy that when my mother, father and I entered that restaurant, there was only one Nick, and he wasn't me.  I wonder, though, whether it was bittersweet, or possibly even a little sad, for my father. 

What We Become

Note:  You may have noticed that two previous posts (Fatigue At The Beginning And The End and Stories of Men And Women) were in italics.  That is not a silly post-modern affectation. Rather, as you may have figured, they're parts of a work of fiction I started writing before my transition and have returned to.   This post is also, for the moment, part of that work


On this block, even in this day and age, most women become mothers, sometimes by choice but usually by circumstance. Some become wives--many more, I believe, than ever would have chosen such a fate.  I always wonder whether I'd end up like them had I been born female.  Would I've had a child--like the one I once was?  Would I've wished him--given him--that long garden of childhood people always seem to remember--which is to say wish--having?  For that matter, what would I make of having a boy--or girl? That is to ask:  What would I have done if I'd had a child who didn't fall between his or her own nature and what teachers, priests, government authorities and other adults expect?


Long before I knew I could undergo the transition I'll soon culminate, I swore I'd never have children.  It's one of two resolutions--getting away from this block was the other--that I've ever stuck to.  I knew, even then, I couldn't justify bringing  anyone into this world to face he same kinds of conflicts I had, or anything like them.  Not that I regret them now:  the struggle and frustrations have turned me into a person who's embarked on, I believe, the most exciting, excruciating and enerving experience one can have other than giving birth to another human being.  Since I'll never be able to do that (barring a sudden advance in medical technology) even after I've completed my transformation, I'll never know for sure.  But, as I said, I still have no wish to bring the needs of another mouth, the longings of another pair of eyes or the rupture of another skin into being.


I still can only wonder how many mothers--including my own--actually chose the role born from their children...and the role by which they're always identified.


If you're a woman and you don't give birth to, or raise, children, then the world--most men, anyway--will fix at least one of these labels on you:  bitch, whore, dyke.  In this scheme, a woman can be a bitch and a whore, but any actual or perceived lesbianism overrides everything else:  Men profess more hatred, which is to say more fascination, for the other two. 


I wonder where I'll fit in that scheme.  Ultimately, it doesn't matter, in a way, because I won't have any more to do with men than I have to.  Hopefully, I'll never have to turn tricks again, but I know better than to say "never again."  What I hope, at least now, that I'll never have to be of use to anybody ever again, for any reason or in any way--whether for their real needs or their fantasies.  Then, whatever I become will be all right