I'm Not Proud of My Child for Coming Out

Gender is only the beginning of all that they are…

Photo by by Cory Woodward on Unsplash. Image by author.

{Author’s note: Here at I Write Out Loud, I write new essays + share ones from my archive, and examine how they resonate now. Revisiting this essay from 2024 nearly broke my heart. I can see now I was blinded by a presumption of safety that’s since been decimated by the Trump 2.0 administration. Coming out—and moving through the world—is always an act of courage.

I’ll be talking about how quickly things have devolved during my weekly public podcast on Wednesday, June 10 at 8pm ET/5pm PT. Please join me.}

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When my child Nico came out as genderfluid in 2021, they asked me to share their new name and pronouns on Facebook to inform everyone we know. So I did.

Because we live in a very liberal, queer-friendly part of the world, we met with no resistance. In fact, we got the opposite: encouragement, support, and praise.

“Thanks for sharing your authentic self with us, Nico!”

“Nico, you’re so brave.”

“I’m so proud of you and Nico!”

It’s the last comment that’s really stuck with me, back then and still today. During Pride month, I’ve been contemplating how the word is woven into the fabric of the LGBTQ+ community, with good reason. For decades, centuries really, queer people hid their true selves, because being gay or trans was seen as unnatural, wrong, a sin. It was shameful. In some parts of the world and even here in the U.S. in our redder states, that’s still the case.

For 50+ years, the Pride movement has encouraged queer people to live authentically, not as a stigma but as a badge of honor. Queer people came out of the closet and marched into the streets, refusing to hide any longer because they were proud of who they were. As a self-proclaimed word nerd, I believe in the importance of words to change the world. The LGBTQ+ movement has made astronomical gains since the Stonewall riots in 1969, and they all center on reframing the narrative, on owning their queerness as a source of pride, not shame.

It’s a thing to be celebrated.

But is pride a thing Nico and I have a right to claim? Should people be proud of us — them, for coming out, or me, for supporting my child?

I’m not sure they should be.

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When I think of being proud, I think of achievements and bravery.

Pride involves overcoming challenges, being brave in the face of adversity, and challenging the status quo. The child who came out as gay in 1985? That was brave. The child deep in a red state, who comes out in spite of the consequences they might face from their family, friends, church, and community? That’s staggering bravery. I’m immensely proud of anyone who can live their authentic lives without the support of those around them.

My child? They came out to a middle school where a lot of kids and faculty are also gender nonconforming, as well as to a loving and accepting family and friends.

I was — and forever am — grateful for the support Nico received, and continues to receive. It’s no accident we live where we do, in our liberal blue bubble in the Pacific Northwest.

But was Nico brave for coming out? Should I feel proud of them?

I mean, sure. I’m always proud of my child.

But coming out as genderfluid was the very least of the things they’ve done, or will do or be.

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You know what I am proud of my child for?

I’m proud of how they lead with kindness. They’ve always been a deeply empathetic person, and their gender journey has only underlined and bolded this part of them.

I’m proud of their creative mind. Nico rarely meets an art, craft, or musical instrument she doesn’t like. Drawing, piano, ukelele, painting, finger crocheting, pottery, and now especially jewelry making — my little mad-crafter leaves detritus in their path and fills our home with beauty and melodies.

I’m proud of their social justice streak. Nico has always tried to help others, and as she’s aging and gaining a broader understanding of the challenges we face in this mad world, I always see them championing for marginalized groups and wanting to make a difference. It’s tied to their sense of empathy, and undoubtedly intertwined with their gender journey.

I’m proud of their growing resiliency. Nico’s empathetic nature can be at odds with emotional fortitude and resiliency. But I see evidence of it, growing every year: their problem-solving skills, their emotional regulation, their ability to adapt and learn. I especially saw this with her grandfather, when she tried to explain gender fluidity to him, and his dementia kept understanding out of his grasp. As important as it was for Nico to feel he saw them, they really understood that his Alzheimer’s was bigger than their need to be seen — and they accepted it with grace.

I’m proud of their ability to grow and evolve. Nico first came out as genderfluid, and moved through a myriad of identities. These days, they use she/they pronouns and don’t focus much on gender. I’m so grateful as a parent that they felt safe in exploring and sharing their gender journey with all of us, and I’m especially glad she feels equally safe in setting it down, when that feels authentic to her.

I’m proud of how animals are drawn to them. Nico has always been an animal charmer. When they were just a wee thing, I remember them approaching me with a clenched fist. “What’s in your hand, Nico?” I asked. “A bee!” she replied, delighted. Hiding my alarm, I asked, “Can I see it?” And sure enough, they opened their tiny hand and there sat a bumblebee, unfazed. It never stung her. That’s how much creatures love Nico.

I’m even proud of their teenage moodiness. Nico has been good-natured for their whole life. I know how hard it can be, to be known as the one who’s always agreeable. Because that’s not how life works. So I’m proud to watch them lean into their evolving emotions, and sometimes that means grouchy, or annoyed, or angry, even. I’m proud to see their ever-increasing emotional range expand.

I’m proud of how they move through the world. It’s hard enough to know oneself, let alone share it with the world. In their own way — usually quietly, sometimes boldly — Nico shows up as their authentic self, wherever they are. For a couple years, they did this most prominently through their gender identity. But there’s so much more to Nico than just their gender identity. They contain multitudes, and they always show up as who they are. I wish I’d had that placid sense of self at their age.

My pride in my child — in both my children — is nearly as endless as my love for them. If they needed to come out, I’m glad they did. I’m thankful as a parent that they felt safe coming out to me.

But I don’t think anyone should be proud of either of us. We were just doing what we should be doing: Nico, sharing how they want to be addressed, and me as their mom, supporting them. These seem like standard issue responses to being a person and a parent.

I long for a time when such actions aren’t seen as brave, but uneventful.

I’d be proud if we could all get there…

This essay originally appeared in Pink Hair & Pronouns in June 2024. It’s crazy—in the worst of ways—how much has changed since then.

Also read:

I’m Filled with Pride for My Genderfluid Child

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Thanks for reading.

I’m Dana DuBois, an essayist and GenX word nerd living in the Pacific Northwest—and founder of I Write Out Loud and co-host of The Daily Whatever Show. Through memoir writing, I explore the larger cultural forces shaping relationships, feminism, parenting, media, modern dating, and life in mid-flight. Em-dashes, Oxford commas, and well-placed semi-colons make my heart happy.

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