#TBT / Thursday Rewind: "The Gift of Self-Acceptance"

The goddamn holidays. Why do they test us so? Is it because we suddenly find ourselves in close proximity to our loved ones? Or is it because we find ourselves wanting as we enter into conflicts, subtle or overt, with persons to whom we’ve been bound in merriment? Why does this season of celebration often feel like something we must endure?

It’s all about desire and acceptance. These food-focused and gift-giving holidays put us in the modes of production, acquisition and consumption — rinse, repeat. There’s no way you’re going to make it through December without thinking about yourself in terms of lack, or excess, or both. Having just survived a fairly undramatic Thanksgiving (at which my mother and mother-in-law duked it out across the table on the topic of Technology: good or bad?), I’m trying to step back and understand what it is about the holidays that makes me feel un-centered.

Let’s start with one of the primary holiday stressors: worrying about interacting with relatives and potentially saying the wrong thing. For parents of trans kids, and for trans kids themselves, there can be a lot of drama around the holidays, and this usually involves misgendering and deadnaming. A friend of mine mentioned the other day that she had to talk to her cishet husband for two hours to convince him that adhering to a person’s desired pronouns was not an inconvenience to him; that it did, in fact, have nothing to do with him. Cishet folks like her husband feel put out because they think if they screw up, they’ll look bad, but also because they don’t want to put in the effort. 

I know this because that was me years ago. Because stopping to think before you speak is hard. Because pausing while you are speaking and acknowledging, mid-sentence, that you did not get the name or gender right can feel embarrassing. Because in our culture we are taught that apologies must be difficult and elaborate. Because to admit that one was wrong is to admit failure. Here’s my advice: If you get in a tangle, keep your apology sincere and simple, and promptly move on.

Then there is the body. I figure almost no one in this world is wholly satisfied with their body. Why are we not more grateful for our corporeal containers? Why are we so concerned about what others think of them?  

This is a nightmare for both cishet men and women. Those of us who are middle-aged (ahem) and especially concerned with their physical decline go to such great lengths with diet and exercise, Botox and retinoids, etc. We are, as people, constantly undertaking bodily modifications. 

People seldom look askance at those who get gastric sleeve surgery, or women who opt for breast augmentation or reduction. Why do so many people consider a trans person’s desire to refashion their body into a body that feels right for them unnatural? 

The biggest holiday stressor of all is desire. This season pressures us to express and relieve desire through spending. It converts emotion into dollars, then into an object we pass into the hands of our of loved one. Has our message been successfully conveyed?  

We are creatures who need love, and the very definition of love is acceptance — the acceptance of oneself as one is.    

Several years ago, when JJ and I were walking in the woods during the pandemic, they asked me, very much out of the blue, “When I turn eighteen, can I get top surgery?”

“Of course,” I said, not even believing the words as they left my mouth. I was, in fact, horrified by the idea of my child, only 11 at the time, having surgery to remove their breasts. But there I was, promising them I would get them this surgery even though I hated the thought of a knife coming anywhere near my kid’s body.

When I later shared my anxiety about this surgery with another mom, she pointed out that these kinds of breast modifications are fairly common. I started thinking about what breasts have done for me, which is not a whole lot. 

I see you coming, Patriotic Mothers of America! I know you think I should be breast-feeding every infant on this planet, but our bodies are our bodies. You do you, I do me. I gave the gift of top surgery to my kid over a year ago. They have been very happy with their body ever since. 

It wasn’t easy. Not much is nowadays. We think of the people all over the world who have suffered so much this past year. I wish you, my reader, the gift of self-acceptance. It sure is hard to come by! Personally, I’ve found that accepting others in the truest and deepest sense has brought me to the point of enlightenment where I am much less likely to commit acts of road rage against Trumpers. I wish you and your loved ones much gentleness and peace this holiday season. Let’s make it happen.

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This essay originally appeared in the December 2023 issues of the The Bollard.