Kerri Mullen

Kerri Mullen and her trans son live in Massachusetts, a state that has bans on discrimination against the transgender community and laws in place to ease the name changing process for trans and non-binary folks, as well as other protections.

Kerri is a biologist and the mother of three: an 18-year-old cisgender daughter, a 16-year-old cisgender son and a 10-year-old transgender son. Kerri has requested that the name of her son be omitted from publication. For clarity, this story will refer to him as Henry.

By the time Henry was three, Kerri recalls him “consistently and persistently” correcting the family, saying he was a boy and a brother instead of a girl and a sister. Around the same time, he started gravitating toward stereotypically “boy” clothes and toys.

Dr. Conn asserts that children begin to understand gender around the age of two or three, noting they begin to see what they like and what they don’t like.

While Kerri and her family fully support and respect their son’s identity, providing him with gender-affirming care and counseling, she discusses the adjustment periods families face when raising a trans child.

“When you have a baby as a parent and they're assigned their sex at birth, you have these expectations, and you have this vision for the future for them,” Kerri said. “You really have to adjust your preconceived notions when you're raising a trans child. For us, it took us some time just watching and learning about who our child was.”

Throughout that process, Kerri emphasized the importance of immersing herself in research and literature geared toward guiding parents through properly caring for their trans children. As Kerri learned more about the trans community and about her own son, she noticed a lack of age-appropriate children’s books that included male trans characters. In light of this, she decided to write one herself.

After receiving the first copy “Eli’s New Clothes,” Kerri remembers Henry’s face lighting up as he wrapped his arms around the book, squeezing it tightly.

“He just hugs the book and he's just so happy you can see it and that joy is so important,” Kerri said.

Overall, Henry’s coming out process went smoothly both with family and kids at school when he started socially transitioning his pronouns at age five. Kerri highlights that young children are still “flexible in their worldview” and tend to not have strong reactions to these things.

“When you tell a kid, ‘Oh she is now he, or he is now she,’ they're like, ‘Oh, okay’ and they continue playing,” Kerri said.

The issue of acceptance and understanding is usually more difficult for parents and older folks, according to Kerri. This includes Henry’s grandfather, who frequently misgenders Henry, creating challenges for the family dynamic.

Kerri attributes her family’s location in Massachusetts as one of the reasons Henry’s transition was well-received by the community, highlighting the resources and legislation in place to protect her son’s ability to seek gender-affirming care and support.

“In a world full of Florida, be Massachusetts,” Kerri wrote in a tweet.

Growing up in a household influenced by Hmong culture, a sub-ethnic group of Asia, Chuefeng recalls a strong emphasis on gender roles. For one thing, Chuefeng’s assigned sex at birth meant she was the first born son of the family, which in her culture “comes with a lot of privilege and responsibility.” Additionally, when it came to family gatherings, the women stayed together in the kitchen preparing food, while the men engaged in conversation, drank and had fun.

“Where I wanted to be, which was with the women and the girls in the kitchen, was somewhere where I was not welcomed,” Chuefeng said. “And where I was supposed to be was somewhere where I didn't want to be.”

Chuefeng described these family gatherings as “disheartening” because she felt she had no place in her own community.

The coming out process for Chuefeng stretched out over several years. At 18, she told her friends. At 20, she told her sisters. And during winter break of her senior year, she told her mother.

She waited until she graduated from college to come out to her father, noting she wanted that accomplishment under her belt as a way to emphasize she was truly living her best life. Chuefeng said that her father was honest in telling her that this was not the life he had envisioned for his child but that if this was who she was, he would accept and support her.

Reactions were mixed although ultimately positive from her closest systems of support, and she described the aftermath of coming out as “complex.” Chuefeng made clear she has boundaries and doesn’t welcome negativity surrounding her identity. She has endured “transphobic and harmful” remarks from extended family and says that she prefers to just walk away from these situations, and goes to fewer community events as a result.

Chuefeng finds that younger generations are far more accepting of her community both in life in general and through her work in social justice and diversity, equity and inclusion. She requested to withhold the name of the organization where she works.

“There's so much gatekeeping from these older folks who are in positions of power which makes it hard for the younger generation to do good and be better,” Chuefeng said.

Frankie Gonzales-Wolfe

Frankie Gonzales-Wolfe, 46, is the first openly transgender person serving as the chief of staff for an elected official in Texas, working under the Bexar County Commissioner of Precinct 1 in San Antonio. She has dedicated more than 25 years to politics, beginning her career working on the Clinton-Gore campaign.

For the majority of Frankie’s life, she wasn’t living as her true self. As an adolescent, Frankie knew she was different but because of societal norms at the time, as well as living in a predominantly conservative state, Frankie hadn’t been exposed to the transgender community. It wasn’t until she was 18 that she first met a trans woman at a club and realized that she wasn’t alone in the way she felt.

Things were finally falling into place for Frankie as she began dressing as a woman and going out in the late 90s — until she was sexually assaulted by three men outside of a club. They berated her identity and left her terrified to be herself again. Frankie says that if this assault never occurred, she would have started transitioning publicly.

“Because of that, I couldn't… It scared me to transition,” Frankie said. “It made me not be myself. So I struggled even longer with my identity.”

Living as a queer man left Frankie feeling increasingly depressed, noting a long string of failed relationships with other queer men who Frankie felt she could never truly connect with because she herself wasn’t a man.

By the time Frankie was 36, she was going through what she described as her own “great depression” and was struggling with suicidal thoughts. She knew she had to make a change and finally felt ready to begin her transitioning process.

“The one thing that I did learn is it wasn't just my transition,” Frankie said. “It was my family's transition.”

While Frankie’s family gave her love and support when she came out as trans to them, the transition wasn’t completely smooth. Frankie noticed the nature of her relationships changing, especially with her brother. Things they used to do with each other as brothers no longer seemed the same, specifically their longstanding tradition of pinching each other’s chests. Once during Frankie’s transition process, she remembers her brother pinching her chest out of habit, and him feeling like he had done something completely wrong.

“It was his first time feeling like ‘I don't have a brother anymore; I have a sister,’” Frankie said.

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Eventually Frankie was ready to leave the sidelines of politics and decided to run for the San Antonio City Council to represent District 8, a role that has never been held by an openly trans person.

Throughout the campaign, depicted in the 2022 documentary “A Run for More,” Frankie struggled with balancing her pride in her identity as a trans woman and having it be the only thing people saw her as. She endured hateful rhetoric, including being called a “tranny” and having doors slammed in her face as she canvassed.

Although she did not win the race, Frankie is grateful for the experience and knows the importance of seeing a trans person run for office for her community.

As for the future, Frankie says she will not be scared out of her state and that it’s not the last anyone will be hearing from her in the political sphere.

“In this country and this state and in every room that we are in, we have to ensure that we take up oxygen,” Frankie said.

Looking forward

According to Bridgid Conn, the psychologist, the ways in which children either feel supported or unsupported by their families can greatly impact their mental health. Here is some parenting advice to help create a welcoming environment.

A 2017 study notes that, because of the different ways in which society treats children based on gender, girls as young as six begin to feel discouraged from categorizing themselves as smart. On the other hand, hypermasculine norms teach boys at a young age to hide their emotions and potentially cause them to become more violent, according to the American Psychological Association.

Instead of basing compliments and interactions with children on gender or gender stereotypes, try to be as neutral as possible to ensure children are treated equally.