I told my dad this weekend I started HRT a month ago. I mentioned something about it in July and ever since there’s been this cloud of tension every time we talk. He broke the ice when I was about to drive back to Laramie, “We need to talk about this… hormone stuff” he rubs his palms and his leg is shaking. This is new to me. My dad was in the military and was raised on a ranch in North Dakota, there was a right and wrong way of doing things with no exceptions. He’s straight to the point and doesn’t put up with bullshit which in all fairness I respect him for. But seeing him so apprehensive was unnerving. I felt more scared of this than the accustomed screaming match I grew up with. “I’m already on it. I have been for a month now,” I quickly get it out of the way. I did this on purpose, if I was already taking the testosterone he couldn’t have tried to persuade me against it. “What do you want out of this? How are you going to change?” I know no matter what answer I give him it’ll frighten him. I tell him it’s going to help me be perceived more as a man, while this partially true it was more of a point to him that I am valid. He’s criticized me before “Why do you think you’ll be viewed as a male if you wear feminine stuff and put on makeup?” and it’s kind of hard to justify your choices to a person who only sees gender and sexuality and life in binaries. He just nods. God this is terrifying. “What about… relationships… friendships… and…yeah?” I know he’s really asking, “What are my family and friends going to think about this?” I explain it’s hard socially and that it’s like coming out all over again but more permanent. I tell him with a straight face that I feel guilty for ruining our father daughter relationship and I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I could have been like my peers, content with my body. I’ve explained this more times than I would have liked in my lifetime, so this comes off cold. His eyes well up with tears and my mouth runs dry unable to form another word. I’m unable to decipher what I’m feeling or what I should feel. Am I sick for feeling relief? That finally something I say got through to him. Should I hug him or just stare? If I give any comfort, will it be used against me? “I love you and I’m so proud of who you have become.” This might be more intimidating than his antipathy. I apprehensively stood up and approached him and we hugged. For what felt like an entirety we held each other while my father wept. Once we let go of each other, he wiped his face off and said, “Well, it’s getting late you should probably start driving back home.” I nodded and that was that.
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