From Phyllis Frye:

The following was written by Dee McKellar's daughter only days before Dee died. I do not know if Dee ever saw it, but Dee already knew that her daughter loved HER!

We were given permission by the daughter to share this.

Dealing With Change

From the Daughter of a Transgender Father

By Debbie McKellar Donaldson

When I was growing up, there were good times and conflicts as in any other family I knew. We were living the average middle-class American life and everything seemed fine. It was not until I was nine years old that I was told about our family secret. My father was a cross-dresser and had been for all of my life. This admission shocked me, of course, but I was really too young to understand what was going on. Over the next four or five years the cross-dressing continued with my knowledge. However, our encounters at home were infrequent enough when he was =91dressed=92 that I was able to block out the feeling that I thought my father was a freak. Things changed, however, when I was thirteen or fourteen years old. He actually started wearing these clothes in front of me on a regular basis! It became a routine. When he came home from work he would check the mail and proceed to go change. Other than the clothes, the evenings went on as always. During my teen years, I spent a lot of time in my room to get away. I also kept very busy with school, a job, and spending time with my friends. I did anything I could to distance myself from the freak. Needless to say, there was a lot of discord in the house and animosity between us.

Things finally came to a head when I was eighteen. I found my own place and moved out. Things were tough, but there was no way that I was going back. Shortly thereafter, my parents separated and filed for divorce. In a period of approximately seven or eight months my father had effectively erased his family from his life.

Over the next two years or so, I would occasionally visit my father and share small talk to catch up. A close friend of mine likened these visits to business meetings because of our demeanor. Over time, however, I began to notice changes. His hair was getting longer and he seemed to be developing--dare I say it--breasts! Finally, my father put me out of my questioning misery and gave me a letter. This was his way of coming out of the closet to publicly live his life as a woman. The letter explained the steps that would follow; such as name change, changing the sex on the driver's license, and everything else that goes with becoming a new person. When I read that letter I felt as though I would fall over. This piece of paper was telling me that my father was essentially dead. After this revelation, I saw my father even less than ever. Suddenly, about three years ago, I grew up. Visits became more frequent and conversations were longer and more enlightening.

Now, I am twenty-eight years old. I am proud of who my father has become and the person that she is. She is not ashamed of her identity and does a lot of work in the community. She is also a major force in the transgender community. She is working nationally and internationally to help make things better for other people who are having trouble adjusting to their identity.

I still have problems getting my pronouns straight and on occasion I still accidentally call her Dad in public. She is patient though, and tells me that it will just take time. She tells me that she is thankful that we are talking because there are kids that sometimes turn completely away from their parents. I sometimes apace my visits apart, but I could never lose complete contact. After all, deep down inside is the person that raised me. She is my father.

Note: Debbie Donaldson is the only child of noted transgender activist, Dee McKellar. She wrote this article just days before Dee passed away suddenly on Sept. 6, 1997.

Copyright by the author.

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