My grandfather’s acceptance of my trans identity is part of his powerful legacy

I was always intimidated by my grandfather growing up. He was stern and stoic, like so many men of his time. But in his later years, he defied the boundaries of his age and traditional beliefs by accepting my transgender identity.

On the morning of January 12, I received news of his passing. Amid the angst and turmoil I felt about his death, I was reminded of a legacy that extends beyond the love of a family patriarch. His journey of understanding is a testament to the human capacity for empathy and change, regardless of age.

Born and raised in Haiti, my grandfather carried with him tales of struggle and perseverance, etched into the very fabric of his being. The great-grandson of a former President, who was himself the grandson of the country’s only King, his life was colored by the vibrant yet tumultuous history of his homeland.

His pursuit of education led him to work for the United Nations: as countries became independent across the African continent, my grandfather served as an engineer in the newly-formed Republic of Congo (today’s Democratic Republic of the Congo), where, later on, my mother was born.

For him, it was more than a job but a lifeline, as the Duvalier dynasty began to assume more dictatorial powers in Haiti. Fearing a return to the country, he settled in the United States, where he spent the remainder of his life. His life here was molded by the norms and expectations of a time that seemed distant from the world as we know it today.

When I first came out as transgender, I was acutely aware of the generational and cultural chasms that lay between us. I braced myself for misunderstanding, for the kind of resistance that often greets change in its early stages. Yet, what I found in my grandfather was not a barricade, but a bridge.

Admittedly, it wasn’t an easy journey for him. There were moments of confusion, periods of silence, and attempts to grasp a concept so unfamiliar to his upbringing. But what stood out the most was his unwavering commitment to understand. My grandfather was a lifelong learner. And so, he listened: not just to the words I said but to the unspoken fears and hopes that lingered between the lines. He asked questions, not to challenge but to comprehend. And in his quest to understand me, he began to unravel layers of long-held beliefs, re-examining them in the light of our shared love.

In our conversations, my grandfather often reflected on his own life, drawing parallels between the struggles he faced – those of his forebears and, to a greater extent, his native country – and the challenges I encountered.

He shared tales of how he struggled with bigotry in the United States, pushing through adversity to succeed for himself and set an example for his family. He told stories of his ancestor, Henry Christophe, who was born in chattel slavery but defied the odds to become a founding father of a nation born out of Black liberation. And he shared how Haiti is often looked down on, but reminded me to never forget its resilience in times of peril.

These stories became a bridge that connected our worlds, allowing him to see beyond the unfamiliarity of my experience.

My grandfather's acceptance was not a loud proclamation but a quiet revolution. It was in the way he made an effort to use my chosen name, complimenting my appearance whenever he visited, and in the pride that gleamed in his eyes when he spoke of my achievements. His embrace was a powerful statement in a world that often struggles to accept what it does not understand.

As I mourn his passing, I find solace in the lessons he left behind. He taught me that understanding is not a destination but a journey, one that requires patience, empathy, and an open heart. He showed me that change, often perceived as the domain of the young, knows no age limit. In his final years, my grandfather embodied the true essence of learning – the courage to challenge one's own convictions and the humility to embrace new truths.

In commemorating his life, I choose to focus not just on the man he was, but on the journey he undertook—a journey that many would have deemed improbable for someone of his age and background. In his eighties, his willingness to embrace my trans identity, to learn about a world so different from the one he knew, stands as a beacon of hope and a call to action.

My grandfather's story is not just about the acceptance of a grandchild. It's a broader narrative about the human capacity to grow, to understand, and to love, even in the later chapters of our lives.

It's about breaking down the barriers of age, culture, and tradition to recognize the fundamental truths that connect us all. In a world often characterized by division and misunderstanding, his story stands as a beacon of hope and a testament to the transformative power of love and acceptance.

My grandfather's legacy is not just in the memories we cherish, but in the lives he touched and the minds he opened. In his honor, I urge everyone, regardless of age or background, to take a leaf out of his book:To listen, to learn, and to love with an open heart.

Marie-Adélina de la Ferrière is the Community Editor at equalpride, publisher of The Advocate, Out, Out Traveler, Plus, and Pride.com.

Views expressed in PRIDE’s opinion articles are those of the writers and do not necessarily represent the views of PRIDE.com or our parent company, equalpride.