The only other transgender person at my mother's birthday party was her 15 year old boyish-looking great grandchild Frannie (known to friends as Frankie). We eventually managed to chat through the cacophony of the cavernous restaurant during which he told me of his future plans to transition to male.
He understands that he is young wanting to wisely do things through the guidance of an expert gender clinic like the McGill University hospital program which first saw me in 2007.
His mother is not very accepting and later waved away my polite input as we disbanded for the night. Her child has been showing persistent gender non conformance since before puberty and his conviction as he spoke to me showed me he is not just playfully toying with expression.
If my generation used denial, avoidance, coping mechanisms and compromise to get by, Frankie faces many less roadblocks despite the current backlash by certain governments which includes the one to the south of me.
Thankfully, in Canada we are as accepting as they come particularly in Quebec where mavericks of every stripe have thrived under the bohemian influence of French European culture. (we won't talk about our mirror image opposite Alberta).
How ironic then that the initially least accepting faction of my family (my brother's large clan) got the lion share of LGBTQ contingent. Two sons fully out as gay, one hesitant to come out and one transgender grandchild.
If that isn't God's sense of humor and poetic justice, I don't know what is.
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