HOT FLASH Ep.014/ TRUE LGBTQ+ STORIES:Living Trans & Raising Trans

In this powerful episode of HOT AIR, host Josh shares two heartfelt listener stories that shine a light on the realities of being transgender and the importance of allyship.

First, we hear from a newly out trans woman who takes us through her journey of growing up not understanding her feelings, discovering the word “transgender” for the first time in high school, and finally beginning her transition nearly a year ago. Then, we hear from a father of a transgender child who admits he didn’t understand at first. In his raw and honest letter, he shares what it’s like to learn how to support his kid, the challenges they’ve faced with school and small-town bias, and the realization that being a parent isn’t about “getting it”—it’s about unconditional love and showing up every day.

LISTENER STORY ONE:

Dear HOT AIR,

Hi… I’d like to stay anonymous, but I wanted to share my story, because honestly, I think if I had heard something like this when I was younger, I wouldn’t have felt so alone.

I grew up in this small town just outside of Salt Lake City. It was one of those places where everyone knows everyone, and people don’t really talk about things like gender or sexuality unless it’s in whispers. From the time I was little, I felt… wrong. Like I was on the outside of my own body looking in. Everyone else seemed to just know how to be themselves, and for me it felt like I was pretending every single day.

Back then, I didn’t know what “transgender” even meant. I didn’t have words for what I was feeling. I just knew I didn’t fit in the way people expected me to. I’d look in the mirror and think: “Why does it feel like the person I see isn’t me? Why do I feel like I’m playing a role I didn’t sign up for?”

It wasn’t until high school that something finally clicked. One night, I was watching TV, and for the very first time in my life, I saw a trans woman character. And I just… froze. My heart started pounding, and I remember thinking, Wait. That’s me. That’s what I’ve been feeling all these years. It was like suddenly my whole life made sense. I finally had a word. I finally had a way to explain what I couldn’t before: I wasn’t a boy who just felt “different.” I was a girl. I always had been.

Telling my family was… complicated. They didn’t scream, they didn’t kick me out — but they also didn’t understand. At first, it was a lot of, “Are you sure? Maybe it’s just a phase. Maybe you’ll change your mind.” And hearing that from people I love — it hurt. It felt like they were saying they didn’t believe me about my own life. But I will say this: they didn’t walk away. We kept having conversations. Sometimes they said the wrong thing. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes they cried. It wasn’t perfect, but they showed me that they wanted to try. And that effort, even when messy, has meant the world to me.

Now, I’m just about a year into my transition, and it’s been the hardest, scariest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever done. There are moments — like when someone calls me by my name, or when I catch my reflection and actually see her — that make me want to cry with relief. It feels like after years of holding my breath, I’m finally breathing.

But at the same time… I’m scared. With everything happening politically — especially with Trump and all the anti-trans rhetoric — it feels like people are gunning for us. I hear people call being trans a “mental illness.” I see bills trying to erase our healthcare, our rights, our very existence. And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t terrify me. I think about kids who are like me, sitting in towns like the one I grew up in, feeling what I felt — except without the resources or support I was lucky enough to have. It breaks my heart, and it makes me angry.

But here’s the thing: I will not back down. I’ve lived in hiding. I’ve lived in fear. And living as someone I wasn’t nearly killed me. Living as myself is saving me.

And I just want to say thank you. Your episodes where you speak up for trans people have mattered more than you know. When I hear you unapologetically defending us, it gives me this little boost of courage — like maybe I’m not as alone as the world sometimes makes me feel.

So if anyone listening right now is trans, or questioning, or scared: I want you to hear this. You are not broken. You are not “a phase.” You are not less than. You are enough — exactly as you are. And yeah, the world might be loud and cruel sometimes, but your existence is louder. Your truth is louder.

With love,
Anonymous

LISTENER STORY TWO:

Hey Josh,

I don’t usually write things like this, but I figured if sharing our story helps even one parent or one kid feel less alone, then it’s worth it.

My kid came out as trans a little over two years ago. I’ll be honest—I didn’t know how to react at first. I grew up in a world where the word “transgender” wasn’t even in my vocabulary, let alone something I thought would ever touch my family. My first reaction wasn’t anger or rejection, but confusion. I didn’t know what it meant, what it would look like, or what it would mean for my child’s future.

I thought, “Okay…so now what? Do we just dive straight into hormones? Surgery? Is there a step one?” I quickly realized this isn’t some quick fix or a single decision—it’s a process. A long process. It’s doctors and therapists and lots of waiting. But more than anything, it’s conversation after conversation with my kid. Some of those talks are hard. Some are beautiful. Most are a mix of both.

One thing I’ve learned is that being a parent to a trans kid isn’t about me getting it. I’m a straight, cis, white man. I don’t know what it feels like to live in a body that doesn’t match who you are. And I probably never will. But what I do know is that my kid deserves to feel safe, loved, and supported as they figure out who they are. That’s my job. Not to fully understand, but to stand beside them anyway.

School has been rough. Some teachers try, some don’t. Some kids are kind, a lot are cruel. There are days my kid comes home with their head down, not wanting to talk. And there are nights I hear them crying in their room because of something someone said in the hallway. That part breaks me. I can’t shield them from the world. But I can be the soft place they land when the world gets too sharp.

I won’t pretend I’ve got this all figured out. I’ve said the wrong thing more than once. I’ve asked clumsy questions. I’ve stumbled over pronouns. But I always circle back and try again. Because I want my kid to know that even if I mess up, my love for them is never in question.

If there’s one thing I’d say to other parents out there, it’s this: it’s not about you. It’s not about whether you understand or whether it makes sense to you. It’s about showing up, listening, and walking alongside your kid as they find themselves. You don’t have to have the answers—you just have to make sure they never doubt your love.

My child is still early in their journey, and yeah, I’m scared sometimes. The world feels harsh and loud, especially right now. But I’d rather be scared with them than have them face it all alone. And I know—deep down—that with the love and support they deserve, they’re going to make it through.

Thanks for giving parents like me a place to share this.

— A Dad Just Trying His Best