I’m afraid my family will reject me for being non-binary. How do I come out to them?

Kai gives guidance to a newly-out non-binary person navigating how to be open with the people they love

Ask Kai: Advice for the Apocalypse” is a column by Kai Cheng Thom to help you survive and thrive in a challenging world. Have a question? Email askkai@xtramagazine.com.

Hi Kai,

I figured out this year while in quarantine that I am non-binary, and while I still don’t know the specifics of my gender or sexuality, I know I’m very uncomfortable with being called a girl or most other feminine terms (but I still love dressing femininely). I came out easily to my friend group and online community, as they’re both big queer spaces, and it’s been liberating to finally be myself there.

I also came out to my therapist. And while I thought it went well at the time, she forgets to call me by my preferred name and deadnames me, refers to me as a female and makes other mistakes constantly, so that feels like a loss. 

I really want to come out to my family. I love them a lot and it feels horrible to hide myself from them. They already know I’m queer, but after the failure with the therapist, everything around coming out seems scary again. I’ve been having constant nightmares about someone outing me or my family rejecting me, and that’s not really helping the extreme anxiety I feel over coming out to them. I don’t know what to do anymore but it’s getting more painful to be deadnamed and misgendered by the people I love the most. 

Sincerely,

Scared Queer 

Dear Scared, 

First of all, congratulations on figuring out that you’re non-binary, and congratulations on your coming out! These are huge steps, and they took great courage and self-reflection on your part. Thank you for being brave, and for taking these steps toward greater self-knowledge and actualization. It’s also wonderful to hear that your friend group and online community have received you with the acceptance that you deserve. 

I’m sad to hear that things have not gone as well with your therapist, Scared. I’m even sadder that this negative experience has increased your anxiety about coming out to your family. You deserve to be fully seen and supported by the people you love—and while I’m optimistic that this is possible for you, I also want to validate that your fears are grounded in a specific social reality. 

 

Unfortunately, for those of us who identify as queer and/or trans, the looming possibility of relational disappointment is ever-present. We live in a dominant culture of queerphobia and transphobia that has worked for centuries to erase and reject our existence. In a twist of cruel irony, this oppressive culture is designed to manifest most powerfully in the people who are closest to us: Family, friends, even helping professionals such as doctors and therapists. 

Most cis heterosexual people aren’t taught how to be the parents of a queer, trans or non-binary kid—indeed, most don’t even imagine that their kids might be queer. Though things may be changing (thanks, in part, to increased queer media representation), it’s still pretty rare for parents to actively plan for the possibility of parenting a queer child. Similarly, the vast majority of schools for doctors, nurses, therapists and other “helping professionals” teach little to nothing about how to work competently with LGBTQ2S+ patients. So even when parents and professionals want to be supportive, they are set up for failure—which is to say, they are set up to hurt us without knowing it. 

“Even when parents and professionals want to be supportive, they are set up for failure—which is to say, they are set up to hurt us without knowing it.”

This isn’t to say that it’s all doom, gloom and hopelessness, Scared. On the contrary! I think that putting the fear of coming out into its bigger context can often help us to understand why the people we love—and the people who love us—can let us down when it comes to allyship. The problem is bigger than our individual relationships—there is a cultural and historical force that influences our experiences and sets us all up for failure. 

Seeing and naming this outside influence for what it is can sometimes help us to team up with our loved ones to overcome it. The late Michael White, inventor of the Narrative Therapy model, called this strategy “externalization”: Recognizing that people aren’t problems, and problems aren’t people. When we separate the problem (queerphobia and transphobia) from people (families), this can allow us to unite with our loved ones who are struggling to support us and fight against the problem together. 

Let’s bring this all back to you and your family, Scared. If we recognize that the problem is a queerphobic culture and what you want is to bring your family together to help you fight against it, then maybe we can start to strategize to help you reach that goal. What are the conditions that give you and your family the best chance at a good coming out experience? 

On your end, perhaps you could use some extra support, like talking to your friends and online community about coming out to your family and creating a plan for them to be there for you (or maybe even with you) when it happens. Maybe a therapist or counsellor who specializes in working with trans and non-binary clients could also help you plan the best possible coming out scenario (we’ll talk more about your current therapist a bit later on). 

“Remember: You don’t necessarily need to come out to everyone right away.”

On your family’s side, it sounds like it’s already possible that they’ll be supportive of your non-binary identity, since they already know you are queer. This bodes well, but what would make them even more likely to be good allies for your gender journey? As you know them best, you may want to take stock of how much knowledge and experience they have with non-binary individuals and community. Would they benefit from getting some reading material about parenting gender-diverse folks? There are some great books and free resources out there these days, and many of them can be found through your local LGBTQ2S+ community centre or bookstore. Here are few suggestions to help you get started: Life Outside The Binary, the Trevor Project’s guide for being an ally to trans and non-binary youth and PFLAG’s support groups and resources for families of LGBTQ2S+ people. 

One strategy that works well for some folks is to simply leave books, articles or other relevant resources around the house, if this feels safe. This can get parents, siblings and other family members thinking and prepared without having to have a conversation right away. You can always try the classic “What do you think about this article/YouTube video/show/news item about non-binary folks?” conversation prompt, which allows you to gauge how much your family knows about allyship without actually coming out first. 

Remember: You don’t necessarily need to come out to everyone right away. If there’s one or two family members you feel more sure about, then it might be easiest to start with them—then you’ll have someone in your corner if you decide to come out to the rest. 

“People aren’t problems and problems aren’t people, but people are still responsible for their problematic behaviours.”

Having a real-life support person to help you think through coming out to your family can make a huge difference. Let’s take a moment here to revisit your experience with your therapist, Scared. If I’m understanding the situation correctly from your letter, it seems like she is maybe trying to be supportive, since you wrote that you came out to her and it went well at the time. Yet you also say that she deadnames you and makes other mistakes “constantly,” which sounds like a painful experience. Therapists can become important people in our lives, and experiencing microaggressions repeatedly from a therapist we care about can be quite disturbing. 

Using White’s externalizing strategy, we may be able to come up with a deeper understanding of what’s going on with your therapist. It could be that she’s just not that experienced with working with non-binary folks—which suggests the problem is that transphobia and a lack of education is getting in the way of her doing her best work with you. It could be that if you address this problem with her directly, you can work together to fight the impact of transphobia on your therapeutic relationship. 

However, it’s important to remember that externalizing is not a “get out of jail free” card for irresponsible or harmful behaviour. People aren’t problems and problems aren’t people, but people are still responsible for their problematic behaviours. If your therapist isn’t able to take responsibility and accountability for her mistakes with you and put an end to them, you may wish to consider finding a new therapist who has a strong grasp on trans and non-binary care competency. (And here are some tips on how to find an LGBTQ2S+-affirming counsellor.)

Whatever you do, Scared, remember that you are not alone: As you’ve already mentioned, you have a large community of real-life and online queer folks who are on your side. If at all possible, I suggest sharing your worries with someone you trust. When we share our burdens, they often become lighter; and in the embrace of community, our courage grows. 

It’s okay to be scared. We live in a frightening world, and in terrifying times. Yet our world is also full of love and possibility. You don’t have to be fearless to find it—you just have to be brave, and you’ve already been brave, Scared. It’s simpler than you might think: Courage is just loving yourself enough to take one more step towards your truth. 

Want more Kai? Check out her latest Quick Tips video, where Kai discusses how Asian people can talk to their white partners about racism.

Kai Cheng Thom is no longer a registered or practicing mental health professional. The opinions expressed in this column are not intended or implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. All content in this column, including, but not limited to, all text, graphics, videos and images, is for general information purposes only. This column, its author, Xtra (including its parent and affiliated companies, as well as their directors, officers, employees, successors and assigns) and any guest authors are not responsible for the accuracy of the information contained in this column or the outcome of following any information provided directly or indirectly from it.

Kai Cheng Thom is a writer, performer, and social worker who divides her heart between Montreal and Toronto, unceded Indigenous territories. She is the author of the Lambda Award-nominated novel Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl's Confabulous Memoir (Metonymy Press), as well as the poetry collection a place called No Homeland (Arsenal Pulp Press). Her latest book, Falling Back in Love with Being Human, a collection of letters and poetry, is out now from Penguin Random House Canada.

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