My elderly in-laws have rejected my trans son. What do I do?
With advice from Sophocles' Antigone
My elderly in-laws — life-long liberals who marched against apartheid and defended gay rights back in the day — have completely rejected my trans son, the eldest of our three grown children. (Why? “Because we don’t approve.”) They have cut off all contact with him and change the subject if his name comes up. It’s been three years now, and at age 92 and 89, respectively, they show no signs of softening their stance. I’ve worked through my primal wolf-mother anger and now feel mainly sadness and pity — but my husband and I, who live in the same town as his parents, still face the dilemma of how, when, or if to interact with them. Their preference would be to go on as before, seeing us often but never mentioning our beloved son, who lives far away but whose heart they have broken. We can’t accept that way forward — but on the other hand, we don’t feel it’s right to completely reject two people we love merely because we disapprove of their actions (i.e. doing to them as they’ve done to our son). We’re at an impasse, and they’re growing older and more frail by the day, still living independently but likely to need our help one day soon. What wisdom can the classics offer us?
I am so deeply sorry that you are in this heart-wrenching situation. I feel so much empathy for you, for your son, and for everyone involved; so much frustrated desire to climb through the screen and explain to your in-laws why it is a mistake to reject their precious grandchild (as if you haven’t done this a hundred times already). Your problem has been on my mind almost every day, so I want to explain why it has taken me so long to reply. You see, I kept thinking that if I could only reflect a little longer, do more research, seek out more opinions, then I would be able to return with a perfect solution - the shining clarity I so desperately wish to offer you.
But no such flawless answer emerged, and I’m afraid to say I don’t think there is one. Accepting this is, I think, the first step forward. You have been confronted with an extremely difficult situation, and it is likely that someone will feel hurt whatever you do next. I hope this doesn’t sound demoralising - there are strategies I’d suggest. But when you are lying in bed in a year’s time, berating yourself with ‘if only I’d’ and ‘why didn’t I’ and ‘I should have’, I want you to remember this: you didn’t miss something obvious. You were just faced with an impossible task. You are a kind and thoughtful person, a loving parent, and whatever you do, you will have done the best you could.
So, what do you do? When I first read your message I shared in your ‘wolf-mother anger’, and instinctively felt that protecting your son at any cost was all that mattered. But after I’d calmed down it seemed more complicated. It would be understandably hard, perhaps especially for your partner, to cut vulnerable parents out of his life in their final years. So, is there a way to see them that doesn’t dishonour your son? Some friends I spoke to suggested bringing this quandary directly to your child, and letting him choose how you move forward. But on reflection, I don’t think that’s right either. Putting myself in his shoes, I know I’d never tell my parents to cut a family member out of their lives. What’s more, I think I’d feel that the decision was a burden which my parents should have been able to shoulder for themselves.
The divided loyalty that defines your predicament reminded me of Sophocles’ play Antigone. In this Ancient Greek tragedy, the titular princess Antigone defies the laws of her city-state to give her brother a proper burial - Polynices has been fighting in an enemy army, so funeral rites are prohibited to him. Antigone boldly rejects the edicts of her King and uncle to offer her brother the respect she feels he deserves, and for this rebellion she suffers the ultimate punishment. Your story echoes this conflict: you are, in essence, standing up for the love and dignity of your son, just as Antigone does for her brother. In this analogy, your in-laws are King Creon, stubbornly holding onto their creed of ‘we don’t approve’ instead of honouring the humanity of the individual in front of them. It is easy to see Antigone’s defiance as heroic, countering Creon’s cold-hearted rhetoric of ‘an enemy is an enemy’ with ‘I was born with love enough to share: no hate for anyone’. I have only read the text in translation, but in every version Antigone speaks with a kind of pure, idealistic fervour that is easy to be swept up by - here she is, talking to Creon:
- Laws that you enact
Cannot overturn ancient moralities
Of common human decency.
They speak the language of eternity,
Are not written down, and never change.
They are for today, yesterday, and all time.
No one understands where they came from,
But everyone recognises their force:
And no man’s arrogance or power
Can make me disobey them.
Antigone’s words are powerful. But Antigone is not a powerful play because it offers moral absolutes. Instead it endures as a classic text because it shows us that conflicting things can be true at the same time. Creon is a tyrant, but he is trying to protect his people and his city, and fears that any concession will lead to ruin. I imagine your in-laws are blinkered by fear as well. And Antigone is decisive and courageous, yet her refusal to compromise - even with her own sister or fiance - sets her on a path of self-destruction. Moving forward, I think you should be guided not by Antigone herself, but by Antigone the text; by its understanding that in the face of divided loyalties, the answer is rarely black and white, and that unyielding positions on either side can lead to tragedy.
What does this mean for you practically? Well, although I was against letting your son choose the way forward, I think you do need to talk to him about your feelings (if you haven’t). Tell him how angry and upset you are about his grandparent’s rejection, and that you’ve been wondering how to navigate your duty of care to them with respect for him. Then explain how you’ve decided to move forward, which I think should be something like this: you do need to change some aspects of your relationship with your in-laws; it doesn’t feel right to go on with business as usual. Perhaps see them less, but still check in, or see them in neutral spaces/their house rather than inviting them over. If they are hurt by the change, explain to them what’s driving it. I’d focus on your child’s feelings of heartbreak rather than debating the wider political issues at play here. And while I don’t think there’s much point being cold to your in-laws from now on, you should absolutely continue to talk about your son around them. They don’t get to define the limits of his existence.
If you let your son in to your heart, I think he’ll understand the bind you’re in, and he may even sympathise with it. What I wouldn’t do is start seeing your in-laws in secret - if I was in his shoes I would hate this. Just keep telling him that it’s hard, and that your contact with them doesn’t mean you’ve forgiven their behaviour. Most of all, keep telling him how much you love, value and accept everything about him.
I feel so sorry for your son; not just rejected but deemed unspeakable by once beloved grandparents. I feel sorry for your in-laws too: they are missing out on a relationship that could have been meaningful. Your anger, sadness and confusion in the face of this are entirely justified. But there are things to take comfort from. Your own relationship with your son remains strong. You and your partner are aligned, it seems - that’s impressive. And you have not lost any of your own humanity: your impressive ability to feel love for your child and sympathy for your in-laws at the same time. So in the long run, I think it is going to be okay. Sometimes, in life as in literature, the most important victories are the quiet ones: the courage to hold two conflicting truths at once — and let time and grace do the rest.