A Mother's Love Redefined

posted on the Huffington Post's Gay Voices on 5/12/13

When I was young, I loved my parents so much that friends often said that I would never recover if they died. Today, they are gone, but they are still a part of my life every day. Love is enduring. I fell in love for the first time at 16 and shortly thereafter was rejected. I stayed in my room, listening to sad songs for days. Love sometimes hurts. At 24 I met the man I would marry. And after 40 years together, he continues to be the one who nurtures both my heart and my dreams. Love is being ever present. I believe that all these people and moments taught me what true love really is. But now I realize that love could be all those things and so much more.

In 2008, when my child announced that she wanted to transition to be a guy, I began a journey toward truly understand the meaning of this four-letter word and how much more I could give. I searched within and asked if I could take a leap of faith to stand by my transgender son. Could I let go of my daughter and all that she meant to me? Could I embrace this new son and still keep the memory of my daughter alive? These were questions that I thought about late at night, when the house was quiet and I lay in bed without answers. Eventually, I decided that loving my son, who remained the same person on the inside, would also be loving my daughter. I embraced both parts of my son, past and present. I understood that my commitment to my child was not just about those times of joy and laughter but about moments where fear and uncertainty hung in the air. I stepped into the unknown trusting that my heart would help me navigate this daunting new path.

This decision brought even more into my life. Rather than focusing on what others would think about me as a mother, possibly judging me harshly, I decided to concentrate on the gifts that would come my way. I saw my younger son, Stefen, stand by his older sister as she transitioned into his older brother. My respect for Stefen grew more and more as I saw the depth of his devotion and acceptance of Aiden. Through his compassion and steadfast loyalty, Stefen, a young man of very few words, made a statement about his commitment to his brother. Love is sometimes quiet and without fanfare.

When Aiden transitioned to be male, he said, "I may never find a girl who will accept me as a transgender man, but I will risk living life alone to be the person who has always lived inside of me." It made me sad to hear those words, because my dream was always that my children find someone who would adore them and end up being their life partner. Although Aiden was willing to give up on his dream of a wife and family, he never stopped believing in the possibility. On Nov. 8 he will marry his best friend, Mary. Love can be courageous and frightening at the same time.

And finally this journey has brought gifts to my husband, showing me how far love could reach. I watched him as he grieved for the loss of his daughter. I felt his sadness as he struggled to find how he could transform his relationship with the little girl he adored to a new relationship with a son. He had no clue how to begin. For a time he was so lost. But through tears in his eyes, he has shared with others that he loved his daughter so much but loves and is proud of his son even more. Letting go of his daughter has allowed Tad to connect more authentically with his son. Today Aiden says he is closer to his dad than ever before; love has manifested at this higher level.

I look back on how I used to define love. I realize that without this amazing experience with my son, I would not have recognized the different ways that love could be expressed. Risking the unknown, our family has been able to create a richer life and a greater appreciation for the diversity that now exists in our lives. We have been welcomed into the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community, whose members have not only supported us but vulnerably shared their stories so that we would not feel alone. We have met people from different backgrounds -- some that I didn't even know existed, like the Hmong people -- expanding our understanding and deepening our empathy for others. We have grown in our capacity to be kind, giving and daring human beings. So today, if you asked me what love looks like, I would say that it looks like standing with our son so that he would not have to stand alone, and in that decision we discovered how much more love could be.

An Activist in Training

posted on The Huffington Post's Gay Voices on 5/3/13.

I stand 5 feet tall in my stocking feet.  I am a Japanese American mother of a transgender son.  And I want the world to be safer and more accepting for my child and all lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) individuals.  Every day, I try to do something, even if it is small, to create a safer world for my son and others.   However, when I have been called an activist, I look back with both horror and puzzlement.  Me, an activist . . . I don’t think so!  I am not loud enough, strong enough or trained enough for this role.  But quietly, I realize I have been travelling down the path of activism and taking notes along the way.  

There are activists that carry bullhorns, and activists that are willing to stand toe to toe and face to face with strong voices.  Sometimes that kind of activism is necessary, but that is not me.  And so I continue to look around for ways I can use my voice . . . my passionate, determined, but soft voice to make changes.    Recently I heard a story that made me stop, pull out my pencil and paper, and begin to take notes.

She is a second grade teacher who intentionally creates a gender expansive culture (how I wish there were more teachers like this!)  She uses gender neutral language, such as police officer, fire fighter, and teaches boys to feel comfortable writing with a pink pencil, because of books like Pinky and Rex and the Bully.  Following a CESCAL (Center for Excellence in School Counseling and Leadership) conference she recently attended, Jeanne (not her real name) decided to read a book to her class recommended at CESCAL called And Tango Makes Three.  It is a true story about two male penguins, Roy and Silo, from the Central Park Zoo who sat on an egg that another mother penguin could not care for and hatched a baby called Tango.   Jeanne made no interpretation of the information, but only tried to guide her students to use the most precise language possible.  So when one of the students said Roy and Silo’s relationship is “weird”, Jeanne questioned, “What do you mean weird?”  There was a healthy discussion that followed.  The class decided it was not weird, but different.  In fact, one student said, “I don’t think it’s weird at all . . . they took care of the baby.”   No association of this story was made between penguins and humans.  It was just a lesson on diversity.

A few days later, Jeanne received a couple of emails from troubled parents about her reading choice. Then the Principal got involved, because Jeanne copied her in the email correspondence with one of the parents.  Finally, the Director of Elementary Education was brought in.  Jeanne says, “Now these families, my principal and director are all lovely, wonderful people.  The parents were just looking out for their children and the principal and director were just trying to protect me.”

There were many avenues of action that Jeanne could have chosen . . . . She could have gotten upset about the emails and replied to these families and the district personnel defending her position.   She could have called the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union) or her own union rep and stood on the grounds that she had every right to read that book with various Educational Codes to back her up and the American Library Association’s recommendation of this book behind her.  Also there is the FAIR Education Act which is the state of California’s requirement that schools teach about the contributions of women, people of color, and other historically underrepresented groups. On January 1, 2012, the state updated these guidelines to end the exclusion of people with disabilities and lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people from history and social studies lessons.  Jeanne could have used FAIR to justify her decision as well.

But what Jeanne did was a concept that I will take with me as I move my activism forward.  She realized that she had pushed the envelope too far with some of these families and took responsibility for it, understanding that we can’t reach individuals by forcing our point of view on others, but by going to where they’re at and bringing them along on this journey.  The other thing I admired about Jeanne was, she wasn’t afraid to take a risk with good and positive intentions.  Often I am afraid to offend others, so I hold back.  She risked but also took responsibility.

Now I have marched for equality in Washington D.C. and I have protested things that I did not think were right.  I did those things to share my point of view, especially for those families that may feel so isolated and ashamed.  I want them to know they are not alone.  I do these things because I want acceptance for my child.  But when others don’t see eye to eye with me, am I accepting of them and where they are on their journey?  It is so easy for me to be accepting when people agree with me.  My true test of acceptance is . . . can I be accepting of others when their paths are different from mine?   Like Gandhi has said I need to “be the change” I wish to see in the world.”

A great epilogue to this story is the Director of Education later came to Jeanne sharing her concerns about all the questions her young daughter had about the Supreme Court deliberation on Prop 8 and the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA).  The director thought that if she borrowed And Tango Makes Three, this book could help her explain some of these current events to her child.  Would that conversation have taken place if Jeanne had chosen a more combative and defensive approach?

In addition, one of the mothers who wrote a letter of concern later came to Jeanne with news of her daughter being bullied.  Jeanne was horrified, initially thinking this was happening in her classroom.  But the mother said her daughter explained, “Oh no, that would NEVER happen in Ms. Jeanne’s classroom.”  Would this parent have reached out to Jeanne for help, if the parent and teacher bond had been severed over the reading of this book?

For the future, Jeanne plans to springboard this teachable moment into change for her district.  In order to prepare parents, teachers, administrators and leaders for the FAIR Education Act, it will be important to start now and bring communities along to integrate curriculum illustrating the impact LGBT individuals and people with disabilities have made on our society.

In the end, I learned two things from this teacher.  Don’t be afraid to take a risk, but also if I go too far, don’t be afraid to come back to where people are at and help them understand a different point of view.  I cannot bring people along if they have to defend their viewpoint.  They will become even more entrenched in their beliefs.  But perhaps if I accept where they are at, they will be more willing to listen to my thoughts.

Each of us comes to this LGBT movement with who we are and want to walk away feeling good about how we showed up for this work.  Some of us have strong voices and like to use that powerful voice to bring change.  And some of us have softer voices, but our voices also have the power to change hearts and minds.  Today, when people call me an activist, I no longer cringe thinking that is not me, nor look behind in confusion thinking they are talking about someone else.  I am an activist who has learned that I can bring my true self to this movement.  And like my transgender son, I want to be valued for who I am, not who others think I should be.

"She Brings Honor to Our Family, and That Is Good"

posted on The Huffington Post's Gay Voices on 1/7/13

New Year's Day... a big holiday for Japanese families. I am about 12 years old and excited to go to a relative's home to eat all the special New Year's foods symbolic of hopes for the year to come: black beans for health, shrimp for longevity, sweet potatoes with chestnuts for wealth and financial success. Our house has been cleaned top to bottom, because my mom believed that our house would be as clean throughout the year as it was on New Year's Day.

Now at our relative's home, I am sitting around the table with my plate of health, wealth, longevity, and more wishes, listening to the adults talk about grandparents and ancestors long gone. "We have a rich and highly respected family name that goes back to the days of the samurai," the obvious patriarch of the group proudly declares. "Only do things that will bring our family respect and honor. Never bring shame to our name." My parents, aunts, and uncles nod their head in agreement.

Years later when my child came out as lesbian and later transitioned to male, I remember hearing that same voice saying, "Never bring shame to our family." For a while, this voice forced me into the closet and I could not openly talk about my lesbian child. I was afraid that I would be judged a terrible mother who brought dishonor to her family. But slowly through support from PFLAG, by reading and increasing my awareness of what being LGBT meant, and through talking with other families, especially mothers, I realized I did nothing wrong. My child was born this way and I had to make a choice. I could choose to love my child or be ashamed of her. I chose love. When my daughter later transitioned to be my son, I would occasionally hear that voice talking about shame somewhere in the distance, but I was wiser, stronger, and less fearful.

In the end, I have decided to honor my family name by loving both of my sons, by sharing our family's journey, and by working hard to make this world safer for all LGBT individuals. I think my parents would be proud of the mother I am today and I truly believe that my ancestors are quietly nodding their heads in affirmation saying, "She brings honor to our family and that is good."

A Journey of Gifts

posted on the Huffington Post Gay Voices on 12/21/12

Four years ago this month, my daughter fearfully looked across a table at me and said the words that would forever change my life: "I want to transition to be a boy." When I initially heard her request, I remember thinking how the first 20 years of my daughter's life began to make sense: the toddler who pouted at wearing dresses and bows, the elementary school tomboy who only wore pants and T-shirts, the middle school student who didn't seem to fit in anywhere, and the high school cutter who refused to return to school and was diagnosed with agoraphobia, an anxiety disorder in which an individual does not feel safe in the world.

But then fear set in. How would I keep my child safe in this world that targets those who are different? How would my child find a place to belong and a career that would accept her -- or now him? And how would my child find love in a society that attacks those who don't fit into a mold and tries to squeeze them into a box that only brings them feelings of unworthiness and rejection?

More fear overwhelmed me. What will my family think? What will my friends think? How could I have been so blind, not to see this coming?

Finally, shame rushed through me. I will bring dishonor to my family when others find out. I worked too much and didn't pay enough attention to my child. I failed in my duties as a mother. I am a terrible mother.

There were times I cried for my child, and there were times I cried for myself. I was so ashamed. Then a rush of sadness would wash through me. I was losing my daughter, a daughter I loved, and the loss felt deep and never-ending. But most of the time, I cried because I was afraid for my child and her future. At the beginning of this journey, I saw only darkness, and it held so many unanswered questions.

But I decided to follow my heart. And my heart said that no matter what the journey looked like, this was my child, and I needed to stand by my child's side. I held on to this thought and kept it tucked tightly in my mind. It became a beacon for me to follow when the darkness grew too suffocating.

Four years later I see that the courage my son pulled up that night would take me and our family on an amazing journey of love and acceptance, a journey that would provide me with gifts far beyond what I could imagine or comprehend. I learned about commitment from constantly being faced with fear and choosing to stand by my son's side. I learned about courage by pushing myself to speak out when I wanted to hide and saying the things that made me uncomfortable, knowing that my silence would not make the world safer and more accepting for my son. I learned about strength by reaching out to others for support, like PFLAG (Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays), though once I thought asking for help was a sign of weakness. And I learned, truly learned, about love by saying the tough things, asking the tough questions and never letting an opportunity go by without saying "I love you" to the people I cared about, I appreciated, and I valued with my whole heart.

Today I have more courage, compassion and joy in my life. My family is closer than ever before. We are bonded by the experiences that have forged a tighter connection between us because of the truth that we have had to speak and the gratitude that we have recognized and expressed. My commitment to my child has evolved into a commitment to the LGBT community. Thank you, Aiden, for trusting that I would love you no matter what. And thank you for taking me on this amazing journey. I am a better human being today because of you, my son.

I Want to Be a Buffalo

Me and my buffalo

My best friend, Joan, shared this story with me.  And it has stuck and emerged as an image that I want to always remember. . . .

In a blizzard, cows are so frozen in fear, they move away from the blizzard, until they are pushed against a fence and they eventually die.  Fear has caused them to retreat, until they can no longer move back further and then the blizzard covers them with snow .  .  . they freeze to death.

A buffalo sees a blizzard and does not retreat, but moves into the unknown, persevering through the storm.  As a result, the buffalo either moves through the blizzard or continues to push through adversity and survives.

It reminds me of when I am faced with fear, I want to withdraw and often allow the fear I am facing to push me back.  But when I do that the problem doesn’t go away . . . it persists and after a while something inside of me begins to die.  It might be the respect I have for myself, it might be the courage I so often want to bring out or it might be the worthiness I feel for myself to continue on when I don’t know the final result.

But I want to be a buffalo.  I want to use my courageous heart to move into the unknown and continue to persevere.  I want to believe that I deserve to move through adversity and reach my intended goal, because I am capable, strong enough, and believe in possibilities. 

Everything I have accomplished in life has been the result of my belief in what is possible, my vision of the world I want to live in, and the world I want to create for my children and all those in the LGBT community.  There is an old song from one of my favorite movies, It’s a Wonderful Life.  In it Jimmy Stewart sings, “Buffalo Gals won’t you come out tonight, won’t you come out tonight, won’t you come out tonight, Buffalo Gals won’t you come out tonight and dance by the light of the moon.”  I think this will be my new theme song . . . .

LGBT White House Reception



White House Photo by Aiden Aizumi

 Ever since we received the invitation from the White House, Aiden and I have anticipated this event.  An LGBT Reception at the White House . . . what an honor!  The morning of the reception, I checked my email.  Hmmm, a Director at the White House asked me to call.  I wonder what that is all about. Curious, I called back and was informed that we had been selected for a private session with President Obama, complete with a photograph.  My heart thumped excitedly as I went to tell Aiden the good news.

Beth, Aiden, Marsha, Ron & Betsy from Savannah PFLAG, and Jody

Then it was off to the PFLAG (Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) National office to meet with Executive Director Jody Huckaby, his deputy Beth Kohm, and other national staff.  A beautiful lunch was provided for us and we met other PFLAGers who also received a White House invitation.

President George Washington's "States" China

At 3pm, six of us hailed taxis and we traveled the short distance to the Southeast entrance of the White House.  Once we passed three security checkpoints, I felt like I was walking through history.  Aiden and I were in the famous building I never dreamed I would step into.  There were grand portraits of past presidents, their first ladies, and the Dish Room where china from former presidents sparkled underneath display case lights.

Aiden in the White House Library

The Red Room

At 4:45pm, Aiden and I were checked into the Red Room, where we waited for that special moment with the President.  About 20 individuals were invited with their guests to shake hands with President Obama and get a photo op with him as well.  When our turn came, Aiden shook the President's hand and said, "Mr. President, it is an honor."  I, holding back emotion, shook the President's hand and said nothing.  We moved closer to pose for the photo.  And then the photo was over.  I turned to the President quietly and said, "I am a PFLAG mom and I want to thank you for making the world safer for my transgender son.  Will you accept this PFLAG pin?"  The President took the pin and and said, "I like to make moms happy."

The State Dining Room

Aiden with Actor Matt Bomer

In thirty seconds the moment was over, but the feeling of hope, gratitude, and warmth that I felt from the most powerful leader of the western world will stay with me for a long, long time.  Since that moment, I no longer see Obama as the President of the United States, but I see him as "my" President . . . . because he has done more for my son than any other president that has come before him.  I am proud of "my" President and I hope that he continues to make all of us in the LGBT community proud of the work he is doing.

Beautiful Garden View from Within the White House

OFL/LifeWorks Brings Hope to LGBT Youth

Regional Supervisor Abel Cabrera with Teacher Jeff White, Lead Teacher Molly Sircher,
and 2012 OFL Graduate Christopher Thomas receiving Oustanding Achievement Award

Sitting alone in the ER after being physically assaulted for his sexual orientation and disowned by his grandparents for being gay, Christopher needed a place to hope.  He found it at Opportunities for Learning (OFL) Charter School and the LA Gay & Lesbian Center’s LifeWorks Program.  This month Christopher graduated and received an award for being an outstanding senior from his teacher, Jeff White.  Christopher is off to community college and dreams of transferring to UCLA.  I know he will make this dream come true.  Congratulations, Christopher!!



Christopher with Two of his Angels, Molly and Danitza Pantoja

Realizing he was born in the wrong body, this creative and determined student decided to live authentically and courageously as a female.  Not wanting to transition at her current school, she came to OFL and was fully accepted and supported by her teacher, John Sandate.  Aly, a beautiful and artistic girl, also graduated from OFL and is now on her way to FIDM, The Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising.  She will be bringing more beauty and style to the world not only through her presence, but also through her work.  Congratulations, Aly!!

Aly, Aiden, and Me at her OFL Graduation

There were many angels that led the way for these two graduates.  Thank you teachers, staff and leaders for your unwavering belief in Christopher and Aly . . . . it has changed their lives and allowed them to blossom into the amazing individuals you see today.  A special thanks to John and Joan Hall, founders of OFL, who work every day to create a space of empowerment and inspiration for all who enter their schools . . .

John and Joan Hall