Last month, I had a birthday. I went home to see my dad, mum and sister. We all went out for a birthday meal, one of the few times my parents, my sister and I have all been out together since they divorced 10 years ago. Family dynamics are better now, so it wasn’t awkward when mum came back to dad’s house with us for chai and a chat.

It was the second time I was binding in front of parents. I was wearing a slim-fit jumper for men, and it was obvious to my very observant mother that I was ‘flat’. My heart started racing as I saw her eyes glace down to my chest and she gave me a tactical hug to feel if I was wearing a bra. My sister and my dad left to watch TV, and mum sat me down to talk.

I was so nervous. I wanted to run away and it would have been easy to do, I’ve escaped these conversations before. But I knew if I didn’t let this happen, I would regret not taking this chance to talk about things before physical changes took place. We talked for about an hour. Immediately afterwards, I went to my room, wrote everything down in my journal and forgot about it, until now. It really upset me, because I feel more ‘stuck’ than I ever have along this process.

I knew telling my mum about transitioning wouldn’t be that hard, she’s inquisitive and considering her background in mental health, she’s aware of a lot of more than your average person. I would say she’s quite open minded, and it has benefited me in the past, because she’s been able to get through to my very traditional, strict father, in respect to my ‘abnormal’ behaviours, i.e. piercings, and coming out as gay.

But it was hard. It was apparent from the first few minutes that my mum has only one viewpoint and it’s not going to change. She asked me first why I’m binding, and I told her simply because I want to, it makes me feel better about myself. She followed with “Are you going to get surgery?” and I stuttered, and said probably, yes, trying not to freak her out. In the past, I thought to myself that I would never start a transition without going all the way to bottom surgery and a phalloplasty. But as I’ve come to identify as male, I’ve realised that the way I feel about myself is more important, so if I feel ‘like a man’ then that’s enough for me to ‘be a man’. But my feelings could change again with the start of hormone therapy, or even top surgery. So I didn’t really know how to answer what my mum asked.

She went on…

It’s self-mutilation, you’re causing harm to your body, think of the scars. How are you going to afford this surgery? You’ve got to think about that now, your dad and I won’t help. You know you will never be a boy, it’s impossible. And when you have surgery, what then? You’ll keep wanting more, you’ll never be happy. Many patients I see are depressed and confused; they’ve had surgery, and been through it all. You’re going to be old and unhappy, on medication for the rest of your life, putting these chemicals in your body, you don’t need it. You won’t be mentally well once you’ve made all these changes. You will have wasted your life chasing this.

Everyone, family, myself, your dad, your sister, will always know you as a girl, as [birth name]. You were born a girl. People still won’t accept you, society won’t. Why do you need to change to feel accepted? Why do you feel rejected?

It was hard enough accepting you when you came out as gay. This is all too much. Not all lesbian and gay men want to change their bodies, why can’t you just be gay? It’s hard enough getting a job when you’re gay but you’ll get nowhere as a transsexual. You’re neither here nor there.

You were born this way, I made you this way, God made you this way. It’s a rejection, I am disturbed.

It’s not normal.

After a while, I did just shut my mouth, as I realised she just didn’t understand that the gender you feel is different from the sex you are. I didn’t think about the impact on my mum, as a mother, who gave birth to me. I don’t know if it was a colossal guilt trip, or if it is a personal rejection. Should it feel like a rejection? I don’t feel like I’m pushing anything away, just gravitating towards myself, my real self. I don’t think rejection should come into this equation at all; I’m doing this for myself, I already feel accepted by ‘society’ and if I feel out of place, then it’s because I’ve been made to feel unwelcome. And I probably don’t want to belong there anyway.

Happy transsexuals exist too! And I will be a happy transsexual.

I was completely floored by my mum’s reaction. It hurt. Because the bottom line is that she doesn’t see the way I feel as ‘normal’. In addition, after 7 years of being out as gay, I learn that my parents are tolerating it. They haven’t accepted it. They tolerate it. They tolerate a part of me. This ripped me to shreds later that night.

My mum hasn’t brought it up since. I would describe her as ‘concerned’ right now, but I think she’s hoping I forget about the idea, realising how much of a hassle changing sex is and continue to be cheery and gay. I need to speak to her again. And tell her that this is not negotiable. I’m doing this, for myself, and its happening.

I’ve already come out to my sister. I sent her a lengthy e-mail, and we conversed. She’s fully supportive, because she is a brilliant person. She has asked me about telling our mum and dad, how I’m going to do it, etc, because we just don’t know what their reaction will be. A week after my mum and I had that conversation, I just couldn’t see myself telling my father, ever. My mum, the ‘liberal’ parent, has been disturbed. What on earth will my father, the ‘traditional’ parent, think…

I know what they’ll blame it on – every external circumstance that has changed since I became more ‘deviant’; the groups of friends I hang out with, in particular the gorahs (white people), leaving home, and the university I chose, the ‘gay-capital-of-Britain’ city I live in. My mum asked “What if we were living in Pakistan?” and I didn’t know what to say. I would still feel this way, whether or not I felt I could do anything about it, is another question. It might be harder, but it would still happen. I brought up hijras in Pakistan, she said some transphobic things, and after a verbal battle, I gave up.

I don’t really know what more to say. I think I’ll start writing up a letter to send to them both. And just do it. What am I waiting for? Well, I can think of a few things – after my dissertation hand-in, after my final exam, after my graduation ceremony, after I’ve moved out of a student house and into a flat, after I have a job/life-direction they are satisfied with… But there’s no point in waiting. I’m kidding myself, thinking it’ll be ‘easier’ without the stress of coursework for example. If it’s hard, it’s going to be hard, no matter what. I’ll just have to prepare myself for what happens next. And maybe find a few answers to these questions my mum asked, and who knows, I could even change their minds, instead of them changing mine.