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For us, Mother’s Day is a complicated holiday. Maggie spent her twenties in graduate school (mostly single) wondering if she would ever get married as her biological clock was ticking. Bethany went through four years of infertility treatment in her late twenties and early thirties.
In our research, we work hard to acknowledge that there are many ways people participate in mothering—aunts, teachers, nurses, social workers, coaches, family friends (and more) all take part raising society (and whether that means expanding and limiting folks’ identities along the way). We recognize those who do not identify with the name “mother” or “mama.” This month, as we approach Father's Day we are celebrating Liam, the father and birth parent of Cypress.
On Mother’s Day this year, Liam posted the following on Facebook:
Why did you feel it was important for people to know that you do not wish to celebrate Mother's Day?
When I woke up on Mother’s Day, I don't even think I was fully awake, and I was in tears. I had no idea why, but I think that subconsciously there is a heaviness I experience around Mother’s Day. It is a heaviness lots of people might feel, whether you're trans, or you don't have a mother, you don't talk to your mother, your mother passed, or whatever the source of the pain is.
For me, it’s that I knew a lot of people might associate me with the day because I gave birth to Cypress—and they might be excited for me, but I didn't want them even to go there. I already knew I was going to have to experience this with my own family, so I didn't want friends to add to that, so that's why I posted. I tried not to be mean about it. I wanted to be, just, very straightforward but also recognize the people that do enjoy Mother’s Day.
What do you wish people knew about how painful it is to be misgendered?
More people can realize what it feels like when they put yourself in the situation. Just imagine somebody saying, "Oh well, why don't you smile more or you seem to be an arrogant person." But you know that's not how you are, that's just how you come across. When people don’t see you or understand you, it's kind of like a knot in your stomach. That's how it feels when somebody thinks I am Cypress's mother.
You mentioned that you found the messages from your friends on Facebook supportive. What were those like?
Just that they were backing me up, they were saying, “We’re waiting until June to say Happy Father’s Day,” and some people were saying that they had a similar situation and they understood me. One person even said, “Well, I was going to say Happy Giving Birth Parents Day. That at least deserves something." I’m like yeah totally that deserves something, but you can still wait until June.
Ultimately, I think putting genders on holidays is kind of weird. If we just had a Parent’s Day, because some people don’t have a mother, and some people don't have a father, some people don’t have both. Some people have two daddies, or two mommies, or parents and step-parents at the same time, and some people have none of that. So, it would cause less drama for everybody—not just trans people—if there was only a parent’s day. Parents are mothers; parents are fathers, parents are parents, parents are caregivers, adoptive parents are parents…I don’t know that’s just my wish if I had one.
How can people support you on Father’s Day?
First of all, by saying Happy Father’s Day and that they recognize that fathers can give birth too. I gave birth to Cypress. I am very, very proud of that. But I am a father that gave birth, or I am a parent that gave birth, but I am not a mother that gave birth, and that’s okay. And it would be really cool if there was a trans Father’s Day card. Like a little hand-drawn character that was a daddy that was pregnant, that would be really cool.
Does Father’s Day have a special meaning to you as a queer parent?
Yeah, it does because…. growing up, I had this impression that I would never have a family. I had something just in my gut, in my being, knowing that I would have a family one day. I didn’t know how or when it would happen, but I knew it would because I wanted it so bad. So being a queer parent, it is like winning the Olympics for me. It’s an accomplishment that not everybody gets, whether they are queer or not, but it’s an accomplishment that means a lot to me because society told me that I couldn’t have it. For example, doctors made me think that if I was going to live my authentic self as a man, then I couldn’t give birth. And to see how Cypress responds to us-- kids love their parents. If we drop Cypress off at school, and when we pick them up, they come running down the hallway. Like arms up in the air saying, “Hi, hi, hi” and just the biggest smile. And running to grab me and hug me and will not let go. It’s the best thing ever.
To learn more about Liam and his family, see this documentary by The Charlotte Observer.
