A Letter to the New Grandchild

One of the more nerve-wracking aspects of coming out to the world as trans was the thought of telling my grandparents. Given the current sociopolitical climate and “debate” happening in the media about trans identities, coupled with the fact that my grandparents are in their late-seventies and mid-eighties, I think it’s only natural to feel some anxiety about sharing my news with them. When thinking back on it now, it feels silly that I had any apprehension leading up to coming out to them, purely based on how beautifully they both reacted to the news (sorry – spoiler alert!), but upon reflecting a bit, I think some of that disquietude comes from my own deep-seated, perpetual need to please others – especially those that I care most about, so while the anxiety didn’t specifically stem from any fear that they would completely disown me as a grandchild, it certainly felt rooted in the fact that there was a sliver of a chance that my relationships with them could change and that they may resent me for that. Despite my anxiety though, I knew that not coming out to them wasn’t an option either. I adore my grandparents and have always valued my close, intimate, and honest relationships with both of them, so it felt important that they became aware of this as soon as the rest of the world was.

After mulling over how I wanted to share my news, I decided it made the most sense to have them read my Don We Now, Our Trans Apparel essay. It felt like doing that would allow me to give them my most authentic, transparent self, while also allowing them some space to reflect and process the news in their own time. And so, after discussing with my mom, who happened to be heading to both of their homes to visit them (they live separately and are divorced, amicably), she agreed to help me out.

My Nana, whom I have an extremely special bond with, is a devout catholic, if you ignore the piece about being divorced and being fiercely supportive of her several queer grandchildren. Despite that, I didn’t feel super worried with how she’d actually respond (aside from that aforementioned anxiety about being the cause of the potential change in the dynamics of our relationship). She and I have spent tons of quality time together, having real, heart-to-heart life chats about any and everything, and so while I was nervous, I knew she’d celebrate and champion my journey to self-actualization more than anyone else. And just as I suspected, she took the news wonderfully. Immediately after reading my essay, she called me to tell me just how much she loved and supported me, and I felt particularly proud of how comfortable she seemed discussing the topic and asking questions (respectfully). Since then, she and I have chatted on several occasions about my identity, and I’ve recently learned that she’s formed a new friendship with someone at her apartment complex whose child also happens to be trans. She has continuously shown interest in every aspect of my transition, wanting to be a support system to me every step of the way – while always being sure to remind me just how much she adores the woman I’ve become.

My Grampa (spelled with an m instead of an n, and entirely without a d - the way he’s always spelled it when referring to himself) is completely different from my nana on the surface; he is quieter, more self-reflective, slightly stern, and more delicate with his words. For that reason alone, I knew that allowing him time to read and process to my essay was important, and I also prepared myself for the potential that he may not give me the same immediate, enthusiastic validation that my Nana gave because that’s just not who he is.

And as I suspected, following my mom’s visit with my Grampa and his wife, Marilyn, I did not get that same immediate, excited call that I got from my Nana. Instead, my Grampa asked my mom to give me all his love and support and to relay a message from him that one day soon, he would “write a letter and send it to the new grandchild in Madison, WI.”

And not even a week later, I received a handwritten letter from my Grampa Everett, written in all caps because that’s how he writes, types, and transcribes everything (don’t ask me why…he’s done it for as long as I can remember). The letter read:

LOVE AND GREETINGS TO A SPECIAL GRANDCHILD FROM GRAM MARILYN AND GRAMPA EVERETT.

WE HAVE READ YOUR ESSAY MORE THAN ONCE. WE WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT WE ARE IN SUPPORT 100% OF YOUR DECISION TO TRANSGENDER. WE WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT WE WILL BE AVAILABLE TO ANSWER QUESTIONS, ETC. THAT ARISE.

YOUR ESSAY CERTAINLY ENLIGHTENED AND SHOWED US THE TOUGH TIMES YOU ENDURED IN YOUR LIFE. PERHAPS SOME DAY YOU WILL BE ABLE TO HELP SOMEONE THAT IS DEALING WITH THE SAME JOURNEY YOU HAVE ENDURED.

I REMEMBER WHEN WE LIVED IN THE TWIN HOME AND YOU CAME TO VISIT. MARILYN HAD A BIG BOX AND A BIN IN THE FAMILY ROOM THAT WAS FULL OF DRESSES, JEWELRY, SHOES, AND PURSES FOR THE KIDS TO PLAY WITH. YOU LIKED TO DRESS UP WITH DRESSES AND SHOES. AT THAT TIME, WE DID NOT REALIZE THAT IT WAS THE REAL PERSON SHOWING US YOUR FEMININE SIDE.

I KNOW I AM RAMBLING IN THIS LETTER, IT’S MY ATTEMPT TO TELL YOU - THAT YOU AND YOUR SUPER GREAT PARTNER KULLEN HAVE OUR LOVE AND SUPPORT IN YOUR JOURNEY OF TRANSGENDER.

I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE THE 100% SUPPORT OF YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY - GRANDPARENTS, MOM AND DAD, YOUR AUNTS, UNCLES, COUSINS, AND MANY GOOD FRIENDS.

MARILYN AND I WILL BE GLAD TO SEE THE NEW PERSON THAT YOU WILL BE - A HAPPY, FUN, LOVING GRANDCHILD.

GREET KULLEN FROM US AND KNOW THAT YOU ARE IN YOUR HEART AND ON OUR MIND EVERY DAY.

WITH OUR ENDURING LOVE,

Gram Marilyn and Grampa Everett

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve read that letter back to myself, how many times I’ve cried at the outpouring of love that I feel when reading the kindness in his words, or how many times I’ve chuckled at the perfectly imperfect phrasing of things like “decision to transgender” and “journey of transgender”. What I can tell you, though, is that I hope that I can make my own children and grandchildren feel as loved and as special as I feel, every time I read the letter.

I have always loved my maternal great-grandmother’s name – Pearl – which also happens to be my Grampa’s middle name (different spelling, but same name phonetically). There’s something so unique yet classic about it, and I especially love that it’s a family name, passed down from generation to generation. Given that, my first thought was to consider Pearl as my own new, first name. However, after trialing it in some close circles, it didn’t feel quite right for me; I loved the idea of it but didn’t love it as a total replacement for my name and felt that it fit better as a middle name. So, back to the drawing board I went.

I happen to have a running list of favorite names saved in my notes app on my phone, originally used for future baby name ideas but now more of a catch-all for names I like in general (potentially for a future baby, but also potentially for myself). And after sifting through my list, I found myself consistently returning to one name in particular: Margot.

For whatever reason, the name has always struck me in the same way that Pearl has. It’s classic yet unique, and chic as hell. One thing I didn’t love, though, was the spelling of the name. I am not sure why, but for whatever reason, the spelling of it doesn’t feel as fitting for me as the way it feels when spoken aloud. Still, I kept coming back to it, knowing that I was on to something.

Fast forward a few weeks, I was at work, meeting with a new coworker. Upon meeting, I noticed her name - Margot, and then noticed how she spelled it – Margaux. Immediately, I felt like the universe had, again, brought me back to the name and this time, the spelling felt like a perfect fit. After our meeting, I couldn’t resist the urge to open google and type into the search bar, “Margaux name meaning”. And I promise you, I am not making this shit up: the first returned search result informed me that the meaning of the name Margaux is – you guessed it – Pearl.

And that was it. I knew in that exact moment, with total certainty, that this was meant to be. Call it kismet, call it a weird coincidence, call it what you want, just as long as you also call it my new, official name.

Subsequently, that very same day, I finally got around to writing a letter back to my Grampa Everett, and while I am choosing not to share all the details, I will share that I signed the letter with my new name. And for the first time, probably ever, I felt like my name was a perfect reflection of the woman I am, while also being a nod to the parent and grandparent I hope to someday be.

So, Gramma Pearl (or Peeps, as we great-grandchildren called her): thanks for instilling such a strong sense of loyalty, love, and support in all your children. I hope to be half the woman you were. And to my Grampa, Nana, and the rest my friends and family, thanks for continually supporting me through this entire journey. <3

With all my love,

Margaux Pearl Schroht-Fee.

A Letter to the New Grandchild

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