If You Do Not Accept Your LGBT Child You Are Likely Killing Them

My parents made it very clear from the beginning that I was the unwanted child. Now, this isn't to say they weren't kind, even loving at times. They never hit me, never locked me in a closet (well, at least not physically). They took care of my needs, took me to sports practice and doctors appointments, and I always had food in my stomach. No, the ways they made it clear hurt much more than physical abuse.

They never loved me. The real me, anyways. They loved the version of me they dreamed I would become: the perfect, polite young lady. I would be a star basketball player, but also be super feminine, and have straight A's that never even dipped close to B's. I would be a doctor, or lawyer, and I would marry a well-off white man and have two perfect little babies.

It didn't take long for me to shatter this image. Even as a young kid, I was very masculine, a "tomboy" if you will. I had an aptitude for sports, but wasn't a star by any stretch. I liked playing in the dirt, which then became video games, and I would choose a Hot Wheel car over a Barbie any day. I never really had an interest in clothes or femininity, and I simply tolerated the outfits my mother put me in.

My point is not that to be transgender, you have to know you're a boy from the start. Heck, I had no idea until a few years ago. But there was definitely something very different about me. My parents saw it, and resented it with passion.

I was rewarded increasingly for femininity, and punished for my masculine traits. I was showered with dolls, make-up, and dresses. I was given princess video games and a pink DS, all in hopes I would be a lady. I wanted to play trumpet, and instead they gave me a flute, because the trumpet is "a boy instrument."

I was decent at school and sports, but never good enough. The one sport I had potential in, baseball, they pulled me out of because they didn't want me "becoming a boy." Jokes on you, mom. Baseball hasn't influenced my gender.

I disappointed them further in late-middle school and early-high school, as I began quitting sports and my grades were dropping. They thought I had gone off the rails, believed I was a punk and a rebel. They constantly belittled me and called me names I cannot write in this article, and went as far to force me to give them my phone, DS, and anything else I held dear. They would then go through my phone, and my journals, to find things out about me. At the time, there was little of actual importance, but at the time it felt as though I was being stripped naked. What if they figured out what was wrong with me before I did?

They didn't, but punished me increasingly as time went on. When I joined more music activities, like marching band and jazz band, they gave me little to no support. But, these activities gave me joy, and consequentially I was motivated and my grades improved. My parents laid off, because at least I could still go to college.

That is, until I came out. Or rather, was forced out. They found a text to my best friend at the time, about me questioning my sexuality. They were furious. At the time, I identified as bisexual. But, it was also the last straw for me having any respect or trust in them.

Soon after, I came out as a lesbian, and started shopping in the men's section more and more. Something still didn't feel right, but lesbian at least felt better. I knew they hated it, but they tended to ignore it. They didn't ask about girlfriends, and I didn't make them go to pride, so we just generally didn't talk about it.

I began questioning my gender identity, mostly by confiding in a close friend at the time. She bought me my first binder, and was probably the most supportive person in my life at the time. She would later betray me by outing me, but that is a story for another time.

Recently, things have been okay... ish. We still ignore my gender and sexuality, but I'm at least allowed to wear men's clothes. They don't know I'm a trans man, they just think I'm a very butch lesbian. I can't bind around them, but can any time they're not around. Which is completely fine for now. I can still sense their resentment though.

I am going to be a music major at a college hundreds of miles away from them in a week, and I cannot wait. Just living with people who I know will never love the true, real me, is a burden that never leaves me. It makes me consider killing myself daily. Knowing your parents don't love you is a feeling no one should ever have to experience.

LGBT kids are at far higher risk than their straight and cis peers for violence, abuse, and suicide. Specifically with trans kids, 41 percent will attempt suicide some time in their life. However, if the person has a supportive family, that risk drops by 83 percent.

By being unsupportive and abusive, you are making the child you raised, and supposedly love, feel terrible about themselves. Because trust me, if they could fix it, they probably would. I wish every day I had been born a boy so I didn't feel this way. But your child can't be fixed, because they are not broken. They need love and acceptance, not hate and intolerance.

If you are the parent of an LGBT child, give them a hug and tell them you love and support them. If you are an LGBT kid without family support, keep fighting. Things will improve someday. Above all, love your child no matter what, because they are far better off being loved than being resented.