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| Umut addressing University of Miami students. |
My resolve to transition from female to male was unbreakable; but the actual transition was not an easy one...
For as long as I can remember, I have known myself to be male, but I lacked the concept to make sense of this for myself. When I did finally figure out who I was, I experienced a tremendous sense of relief. I could finally be comfortable in my own skin. But no one lives on an island. Soon enough, I had to confront the reality that I’d have to tell every single person in my life about my gender which entails using a different pronoun and a whole new social script. My mind was swamped with questions: “Will I lose my family? Who could possibly love me? Is it worth it?” I was terrified of losing the people I felt closest to in this world. But once I finally knew who I was, a 25 year long struggle, I couldn’t hide from myself – or others – for even one more day.
Having no clue how my Dad would react, I braced myself for the worst. After obsessing in my mind over and over how the conversation might go, I was convinced that my father would disown me. He is Turkish and Muslim. I equated his identity as an automatic death sentence for our relationship. “Baba…I need to tell you something…I’m a guy.” Silence. Then, “What do you mean, ‘you’re a guy’?” I said, “Well, I’m not a girl. I’ve never felt like one. It took me a long time to figure out why I was unhappy, and it’s because I’m not a girl. I’m a guy.” More silence. “Are you sure?... What does this mean?...This is just a phase.” Although my dad didn’t understand how I was feeling, or why I needed to transition, he made the single most important fact clear – he loves me unconditionally.
I began my gender transition in August of 2010. My family has remained by my side throughout this journey, but my dad and I haven’t really talked about...it. He has never heard me tell of looking in the mirror, and seeing nothing but emptiness in the reflection. Someone I didn’t know was always looking back at me. I didn’t share with him the torment of feeling incomplete and searching for a sense of belonging. My wanting to be seen as a man, as his son, was the huge elephant in the room we could never manage to discuss. People knew he had two daughters, so there was always this awkward pause when he introduced me as “his child.”
My dad recently visited Miami and I invited him to accompany me to a YES Institute dialogue at the University of Miami. He didn’t have a clue what he agreed to, but being the supportive father he is, he joined me anyway. This was the first time my dad had ever heard firsthand the real truth of my experience.
When I spoke during the dialogue, he listened intently, and I could tell he was processing information that was very foreign to him. Afterwards, I fielded questions from the audience as my dad quietly listened from the back of the room. Before we wrapped up for the day, my dad was invited to share what the experience was like for him. He responded only noting a curiosity about different cultural practices of gender. However, above all, he made it clear that although he doesn't understand, he is thirsty for knowledge.
Though I was originally scared of my dad’s reaction, our relationship has remained intact. There are slip-ups when he says ‘she,’ but I know it isn’t meant with malice. His willingness to listen as he tries to learn has allowed me to hear him differently. When he says “my child,” he says so with love.
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| Umut and his father at University of Miami. |
