How I came out as trans to my Mormon family

My coming out letter, 2018

The closet is no place to live. I knew that in theory, but learning it first-hand was an eye-opening, dreadful, depressing experience. From the start of questioning my gender identity in earnest to coming out to my conservative, Mormon family was about two and a half years. I was out at work and with friends offline for a year before I found the courage to tell my parents.

I assumed their reaction would be emotional in a way that I did not want to witness. Their reactions to my transness were theirs to process, away from me. (See the Ring Theory.) So I wrote a coming out letter longhand. I planned out the timing carefully. I visited them in Utah for Thanksgiving, then left the letter on my parents’ bedside table just before they drove my son and me to the airport at the end of the visit. At the airport, I emailed a copy to my siblings. I figured they could have a few weeks to process the news before I returned at Christmas time as Will.

My stay in the closet was so long partly because I was a people pleaser and codependent, believing it was my job to take care of their feelings, i.e., make sure they never feel anything unpleasant. While in the closet, I carried my feelings plus what I imagined were theirs. That is a huge, unnecessary burden.

Once I left that letter, got on the airplane, and hit send, that burden lifted. I felt light and joyous on that airplane trip—feelings I had forgotten. I even laughed in delight.

I know coming out is not for everyone, not safe for a lot of people, and that it is largely a white/western phenomenon. For me, it was right.

Here’s the letter (lightly edited):

Let me begin by stating that I know and have never doubted that you love me. You loved and accepted me when I left the Church, even though it must have been heartbreaking and confusing for you, and I didn’t want to discuss what I was going through at the time. You loved me through all of that. You showed me that our relationship is most important, and that has helped immensely through the years as we remain a loving family despite our differences. It is with the knowledge and assurance that our love and relationship survived that experience that I have the courage to write this letter to you now.

I know you’ve noticed changes in my style lately. New haircut, different clothes, no more earrings and nose ring, and that dapper, shiny suit I had made. I’ve been pushing boundaries of gender norms most of my life and doing so more pointedly and publicly lately. These changes in my expression have followed new realizations about myself and my gender identity. After years of active and purposeful exploration, and a lifetime of being different, I am ready to share with you what I have learned about who I am.

I am transgender. I am a transgender man. This means that even though the doctor declared “it’s a girl” when I was born, and even though I have a typically female body, my mind—my sense of self—has always been that of a boy. In our family, there are three sons and four daughters.

My sense of myself as a boy goes back to my earliest memories, from when I was three years old and I happily declared, “I’m going to be a boy when I grow up!” As a child, I not only preferred “boy” games and clothes, I also genuinely thought I’d follow in Dad’s and my brothers’ footsteps in becoming a dad, a deacon, a Cub Scout, and a Little League baseball player. As a pre-teen, I long puzzled and struggled over why in the world Heavenly Father made me a girl. Was this a test? I couldn’t comprehend it. Unconsciously and consciously, I always put myself in the “boy” category. There are a thousand and one examples I could list that show me I am trans, from age three to the present. For every thought and experience, I always found ways to explain them away as either internalized misogyny or my strong feminism (how I was both a misogynist and a feminist is unclear). Now I see, though, that all those experiences and thoughts, my vision of myself, have pointed to my being transgender. My gender identity (man) does not match my sex assigned at birth (female).

To better reflect my gender identity, I chose the name Will to replace *****. Legally, I’ve adopted ***** ******* ********* as my name; I wanted to keep the initials for professional reasons. While I appreciate that you, as my parents, carefully chose my name, I needed to make a change. I feel much more comfortable being called Will. I find that when I am referred to with male pronouns, he/him/his, my heart soars. When people refer to me as a woman, call me ma’am, or use she/her/hers to refer to me, I feel hurt, wounded, misunderstood. I correct them in my head and wonder why they can’t see me. On the other hand, I feel incredibly happy when I can introduce myself with “I am Will and my pronouns are he/him.”

I have already come out to Raymond and Ben.¹ They are both incredibly supportive and loving and accept and embrace this about me. We as a couple and as a family are sticking together and adjusting to this newer, truer version of me.

2025 update: I was still in denial about that marriage; we split a few months later. My son was and is supportive, though it was a transition for him, too.

When one partner comes out as trans, divorce is not inevitable. Many couples stay together.

I’ve wanted to come out to you for a while now; I’ve hated to hide this part of me from you. I’ve debated about the timing and method and agonized over the details. But there’s no perfect way or time to do this. So here we are.

I realize this may take some time to understand and process, and you may feel denial, anger, sadness, or all of the above. You may think I am jumping on a trans bandwagon, or that I’m “just a tomboy.” Believe me when I say I have also been in denial, been confused, second-guessed myself, and was scared that I was wrong and making a huge mistake. But over the past years of reflecting, journaling, reading, getting expert counseling, trying out different gendered expressions in my outward appearance, and introducing myself to others as a trans man named Will, my understanding of myself has only grown surer: I am trans.

Make no mistake: I am proud to be trans. I am happy I found the courage to dig deep and explore my inner self, challenge my own and society’s assumptions, and claim my identity. This is a good thing for me. A weight I didn’t even realize was there is gone off my shoulders. There were multiple layers of pain, frustration, longing, and confusion that I simply thought were normal. They were my normal; I thought everyone felt this way. I know nothing different. But every day I am out, I feel a little lighter, and little freer. I am the same person, only better. I am happier, more confident, more myself. I hope you can see that, even if it takes some time.

I imagine you have a hundred questions swirling around in your head. Are you sure?? What does trans really even mean? Are you going to get a “sex change”?² How do you know you’re trans? What if you’re wrong? How do I tell the (grand)kids? Why can’t you just accept the way you are/the way God made you? Did something I do cause this? Isn’t gender just a social construct? Why are you doing this to us? Why can’t you just be a masculine woman? How can I support you? What do I call you now?

I’ve included some books with this letter that can hopefully help you (and the kids) understand. There are many resources that can help you understand what trans does and does not mean, what I and people like me are going through, and how you can be supportive. I specifically included Mormon-friendly LGBTQ resources to help you understand within your faith community. These are Mormon organizations that help families love, accept, and support their LGBTQ family member(s) without trying to change them. (There are also organizations that try to get LGBTQ people to change and deny who they are; I urge you to stay away from those organizations, as they will only hurt me and us.) I hope these resources can help you to process, learn, and come to accept me as I am.

I ask you to explore your feelings, explore available resources, read a book or two (or 50, like I have), talk to each other, fast and pray—do whatever you need to do to—before you call or write to me. When you feel you are at a point you can express support and unconditional love, feel free to reach out. I can’t wait for you to meet the new me, without my mask.

Sincerely & with love,

Your son and brother,

Will

Update: I prepared myself to not hear from my family for weeks to months. They all reached out within two days to express love, and most of them expressed acceptance, too. It took my parents a year to call me Will, but they came around. I’m glad they chose love.

1. These are pseudonyms.

2. Don’t ask this of anybody, ever. I won’t ask you about your private parts; please don’t ask about mine. Deal?