Secrets

My famly had so many secrets. There was sexual abuse and there was mental illness. And there’s still one more secret that in today’s world is no longer even a scandal.

My dad was a cross-dresser, a transvestite in the words of my youth. He didn’t want to BE a woman, like a friend of mine who eventually had gender change surgery. He just felt most himself in women’s clothes. Since it was a dirty little secret, he only had negligees, not full outfits. This is my understanding.

I wasn’t aware of this until adulthood, but when I think back, I can hear his high pitched falsetto voice coming from the bathroom when he was ensconced in there, free to be his alter-ego for a little while.

My sister told me of coming across him in dress when she stayed with him during a college break. She later checked his closet and found a few more things. My mom told me at some point that it was part of her sex life and that it was very problematic for her.

I have written before about family secrets, but my gentle dad is long gone and nobody in my family reads my posts. So I’m finished concerning myself with the impact of these matters.

And this secret has another aspect that moves me to shine the light here.

My brother’s son, my nephew, now identifies as they/them and he (sorry, but I am struggling with this paradigm) wears feminine clothes and colors these days. I love my nephew. He has walked a traumatic path in his youth, socially. He is “on the spectrum” and has dealt with being a social outcast because he doesn’t read social cues well and is “just not cool” in the vernacular of my day. The last time this social outcast thing occurred, in college, he took a left turn into sexual fluidity and found an instant community of friends. And there has been a huge sigh of relief from all of us who love him.

He himself wonders, my brother told me – what exactly is at the root of his choice. He recognizes that it brought him comfort and acceptance.

My brother is a kid lover, like me. Children are his favorite people. He was a Montessori teacher in his second career. He is sad because he has hoped for grandchildren.

The crazy thing about this story is that my nephew doesn’t know about his grandfather’s cross-dressing. He’s in his mid-twenties, and I would be willing to bet that everyone else in our family does know about dad …but there has been a decision made to keep this information from him.

[There is some lack of clarity about whether dad’s cross-dressing was strictly sexual, unlike my nephew’s.]

On my last visit to my brother’s, I admired a lovely photo of my nephew, around the age of 2, listening to my dad’s heart with his toy stethoscope. For some reason, it prompted me to ask whether he knew about dad. And my brother said no. I was surprised, and made a case for it being positive for him to have this information. That he would feel a deeper connection with his grandpa, and possibly some pride or relief that he wasn’t alone in his choice.

It hurts my heart that my nephew doesn’t have this information that I feel would benefit him. I’m not seeing the down side, although I’m sure it was explained to me.

I do admit to a wish that he might take his choice out into the light more fully, and make sure he is choosing for his true self.

In general I don’t think secrets are helpful. They keep us from knowing ourselves. It’s all hiding there, in the pain of our ancestors and siblings and parents And maybe our children.

It has crossed my mind to tell my nephew myself, but it feels …interfering, duplicitous, sneaky- to tell my nephew something significant that his parents don’t want him to know.

Maybe I will someday – if the opportunity arises, but I can’t imagine how or when that would occur. Last time I had alone time with my nephew, we were baking a cake and he was maybe 14.

So I carry it, and it haunts me from time to time.

I just want the best for everyone.

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