My Transphobic Brother Discovered I’m Trans
He said he’s OK with it, but I don’t believe him
Yesterday, Mom spoke to my older brother for the first time in over a year. But when she mentioned me, she did what came naturally to her — used my chosen name, not my birth name.
Incoming: Confusion.
Mom went into panic mode. She didn’t call me that name he knew me by. She hadn’t called me that name in a while.
My brother didn’t know I was transgender. My brother didn’t even know I liked girls. Our other brother — God rest his soul — picked up on it easy, and before his untimely death, he told me he loved and accepted me for whoever I am.
Jacob wasn’t as accommodating.
“Is she one of those transgenders?” He asked.
Mom put the phone down. She immediately asked me what to do. She apologized. What should she say? What did I want her to say?
“Tell him,” I said. “I don’t care.” And I meant it.
Growing up, I never had much of a relationship with my oldest brother. We’re 14 years apart in age. Mom had him in her teens and she had me in her 30s.
Aside from age, we’ve never really connected on anything else — culture, politics, religion. We both like Metallica. That…
