jamespearlsharp

[jamespearlsharp]

[jamespearlsharp]

My father was born in 1937, he was almost fifty when I was born. He was a complicated person and survived a fairly brutal life, but he was always sweet and caring and generous til the day he died.

I never came out to him. When I started HRT my body had apparently been waiting for second puberty with the engine running and I was getting nervous because you can only claim to have a throat cold on the phone for so long.

One day my partner picks my dad up from the airport, I was at work. They get along great and are chatting away, and my dad pauses for a bit then says:

“Is my child a man?”

and my partner says:

“yeah”

and that’s it. Switched pronouns, started referring to me dating men as gay, bought men’s clothes as presents til the day he died and if said partner hadn’t told me this story I would never have heard a word about it. I honestly have no idea if he understood the medical or cultural implications of being trans at all he just, and this is the really big thing to me, didn’t care about anything but my reality.

My 90yr old Irish Catholic grandpa doesn’t miss with my gender. He’s never gotten my name wrong, or my pronouns, never even faltered over it.

It’s all so natural too: son, big man, young man…

We’ve never talked about it. He’s the only one who hasn’t pushed for details. He just accepted it and carried on because it’s not a huge deal.

It’s so comforting.

[jamespearlsharp]

[jamespearlsharp]

[jamespearlsharp]

[jamespearlsharp]

[jamespearlsharp]

[jamespearlsharp]