The Silence Got Louder
Part 3 - Shut Down Outside, Shut Down Inside
I can’t remember the exact timeline, but I do remember the moment clearly: sometime before the pandemic hit, my son texted me to tell me he was trans.
He was downstairs. I was upstairs.
When I read the message, I went straight to him. I told him he was brave for sharing that with me, and that we’d talk about everything when he was ready. At the time, I had very little knowledge about what it meant to be trans. It was something I’d heard of, but it didn’t seem to make sense in his case. He’d never seemed particularly feminine, never asked to dress as a girl. As I’ve said before, he was different from other kids, and we’d always given him room to express himself freely—whether that meant crocheting, climbing, or anything in between.
So my immediate response was simple: support him. I thought, “This is something he’s exploring. A phase, maybe. And I need to be there for him.”
I started looking for guidance online and found that the school had links to trans support groups. That’s where I came across Mermaids, a group I now know has been the subject of significant controversy. At the time, I was unsure about the information they provided, and frankly, scared by the statistics they shared (many of which I’ve since learned were misleading or false). But I still used some of their suggestions to start a conversation.
I asked him why he wanted to be a girl. He didn’t really have an answer. I asked if he wanted to be called a different name, as Mermaids recommended. He didn’t. He didn’t want anyone else to know, not even his brother, or grandmother, who he was very close to. So it became something only my husband and I were aware of, something we were left to navigate alone with him.
We had long, careful talks. I started to believe that maybe what he was really experiencing was discomfort with puberty and the changes in his body, something I could relate to deeply. I told him that I’d struggled with those feelings, too, and that things shift with time. There was no need to rush into anything.
At one point, I gave him a link to Mermaids’ support forum. When he saw the image on the page, a boy wearing glittery makeup, he visibly recoiled. That reaction confirmed, for me, that this might just be a phase.
I was wrong.
During one of our talks, he mentioned hormones and puberty blockers. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea to make those kinds of decisions while still so young, and suggested he talk to someone. We tried to get help through the GP, but they didn’t know how to respond either. Eventually, we were referred to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services).
One month before our much-anticipated return trip to Fontainebleau, the Prime Minister announced the first national lockdown. At first, we clung to hope that it might lift before our departure, but it quickly became clear that our plans, like so much else, were unraveling.
As the pandemic took hold, my son became increasingly withdrawn. He spent more and more time online, and although we tried our best to keep some structure, encouraging time outdoors, assigning little garden jobs, it felt like a losing battle.
His hair grew longer and longer. He refused to have it cut. He stopped wanting new clothes, wearing only the same black tracksuit bottoms and a single brand of hoodie. He no longer wanted to be in family photos. Often, when we went out for walks or tried to do things together, he was distant, moody, or simply refused.
We were still right there beside him. But it was beginning to feel like he was drifting somewhere we couldn’t quite follow.
I think Part 3 is a copy from Part 1... not sure