Episode 195: Transcendent Love: Trans/Nonbinary Mamas Q&A Panel

Welcome everyone to today’s episode of Living Beyond the Shadow of Doubt. I have this amazing energy coursing through my veins as I speak to you. I am in the company and the sacred presence of some powerhouse badass mothers, and I am so honored and thrilled and grateful that each one of them is here, taking time out of their lives—spring break week, no less—to share their stories, their families, their experiences as fellow mamas of kiddos who identify as queer, specifically those who are transgender, non‑binary, or otherwise gender‑queer. There is so much out there going on in political circles, in religious circles, in family circles: misconceptions, misunderstandings, and just plain old misinformation. We are here to share our real stories, our real‑lived, honest‑to‑goodness experiences that come from our hearts and deep within our souls. And we’re grateful to you for taking the time to listen to this podcast episode.

So with that, I’m going to give each of our panel members for this Q&A the opportunity to introduce themselves and share a little bit about who they are, their families, and just so that you can get a feel for their beautiful spirits, their beautiful auras and presence—just like I am. Let’s start with Becky; we’ll go alphabetical order.

I’m Becky Belnap; I have five children. My oldest is transgender—she’s my daughter—and I love her. She’s just changed my life and my heart and my soul, and I’m so grateful for her in my life.

Oh, beautiful! You started the crying already. Oh my gosh—issues!

Thank you, Becky. I think that leads us to Jeannie—you’re next.

I’m Jeannie Burton. I’ve got four living kids. Our youngest, Ollie, is transgender. We also have his older brother, just older than him, who is gay. My oldest daughter, my baby, is currently— as we speak—having a baby, and then my second daughter is at BYU‑Idaho. So four kids. It’s been such an honor to be with such amazing mothers right now—thank you.

Absolutely. Jill?

My name is Jill Mortensen, and I live in St. George, Utah. I have three children, and my oldest, Sid, is 20 years old; they identify as non‑binary and lesbian and use they/them pronouns. They are honestly doing— all things considered, with the political climate and everything happening—quite well. They have a lot of support with family, friends, and coworkers, and honestly it’s kind of the best‑case scenario, so I feel very fortunate because I know that’s not the case for a lot of transgender and non‑binary children. So I’m grateful to be with all of you today—thank you.

And thank you for saying so. My hope is that having this important conversation can maybe break some hearts open and let new light, new understanding, new knowledge flood in through those cracks from that break. Thank you, Jill. Julia?

I’m Julia Bernards; I have four kids. My oldest is trans, and she has been a blessing to our family since she was tiny—even before she came out as trans. My husband and I joked that she probably agreed to be our oldest so we could make all of our parenting mistakes on her, because she’s just the kind of person who would try to protect others and make their lives easier. And I think that’s what she’s doing as a trans person, too. She’s brave and loving and very much herself.

That’s powerful, beautiful. And Marley?

Hi. I’m Marley Orton. I’m the mother of three. My oldest is a 30‑year‑old son. My middle is CC, and they are non‑binary and use they/them pronouns. My youngest, age 23, is a son—my non‑binary child also is doing really well right now. They were married in January, and other than the political climate, they’ve been really thriving. I feel so blessed and privileged to be mother to this special soul, and I’ve just felt such an urge to educate people so they can have more understanding and compassion and maybe broaden their horizons a little bit to know that things aren’t binary in this world.

So true, so good! And Monica?

I’m Monica Phillips. I live in Mesa, Arizona. I have five adult children—three of whom are cisgender, heterosexual boys, and then my second‑born is Landon, who’s transgender, and my daughter Anya, who is a lesbian and going through her own gender journey. And then after Anya I have two cisgender heterosexual boys, and they’re a great support to each other. I’m honored and grateful to be their mom, and I’ve learned so much from them. I wouldn’t have been able to say this before, but I’m super grateful for the journey. There was a time I never would’ve imagined saying that, but it’s taken me to a whole new level of understanding people and experiences and learning how to love better.

I’m so grateful for each of our kiddos being willing to let us share about our journeys. Much love to each of them. If you’ve been listening for a while, you know I’m Megan Skidmore; I have two kiddos, I live in the Dallas, Texas area, and my youngest identifies as transgender and has found new life at university. It’s worth noting that the state universities in Arizona are inclusive and have places for the queer community—so that’s been a blessing in our family.

We posted on social media soliciting questions for this Q&A panel, and so many came in that Marley had the brilliant idea to enlist the help of ChatGPT. We’ve grouped them into various categories—so the first is about gender identity and understanding gender identity.

We’ve each shared about our kids and how, even though they’re under the same umbrella of transgender and non‑binary, they each have their own way of feeling that and expressing it in whatever form feels aligned with who they are. If someone asked, “How can my child know if they are trans? And what if later they decide they’re not trans?”—how would you respond to that? Feel free to jump in fluidly.

Julia, want to start?

One of the things that’s hard for parents to conceptualize is their child having an experience totally unfamiliar to them. As a cis person, I don’t know what it’s like to feel I don’t fit in my body and I don’t fit how people address me. You could imagine if someone called me “sir” all the time or called my husband “ma’am,” it would feel off. That’s the experience trans people have: they know the way people see them doesn’t fit who they are inside.

That’s it. Monica?

I think of my own child—he didn’t have the vocabulary until almost 19 to describe what he was feeling. When he landed on the word “gender dysphoria,” he knew. He told me, “I experience gender dysphoria. Do you know what that is?” We talked about it; I didn’t know, so he explained the distress from that incongruence between how you’re seen and how you feel. I told him I’d support him in whatever he needed. If he ever wanted to detransition, I’d be there for him. That process is his, and as a parent, my job is to love him through every step.

That’s great—transitioning can mean anything from changing your name and pronouns to hormones or surgeries. Even just wearing a dress when assigned male at birth can be part of your transition. “Detransition” just means ceasing whatever you chose to engage in. Transitioning can be scary-sounding, but so often it’s simple things like names and pronouns.

Jeannie?

My dear friend’s son transitioned and she told me about the three I’s: resistance, insistence, persistence. When Ollie first came out, he softened it: “Maybe I’m wrong, Mom. I might switch back.” He resisted the gender we had assigned him, he insisted he knew who he was, and he persisted. And right before we moved cities, we gave him a “sweater analogy”: try it on—sweaters can be itchy, too big, or just right. He tried on a social transition, and it helped.

Then Jill?

My Sid first came out at 14 as bisexual. I was driving them back to school after an orthodontist appointment and asked a lot of questions—“Are you equally attracted to both genders?” There was a long pause and then, “Mom, I just think I’m gay as hell.” We joke about it now! Giving them that nonjudgmental space to explore attraction led to them figuring out they were non‑binary and wanted they/them pronouns. One of the greatest gifts we can give our kids is space and safety to explore without judgment.

Julia?

I agree—kids keep exploring. I know adults in the queer community whose understanding of themselves evolved in their 20s or 30s as more spaces opened up safely. We’re ever learning, ever growing—who we are isn’t a one‑and‑done decision.

Megan:

Right. Next question: Parents often worry their kids are just following trends or influenced by friends or social media. How do you distinguish “real” from “trendy”?

Julia:

Look for consistent, insistent, persistent behavior. Trendy things come and go, and our kids know it’s countercultural to be openly trans. They’re risking a lot to be themselves. That threefold check shows it’s more than just a trend.

Megan:

Exactly—no one chooses to put themselves in society’s crosshairs. If your queer kids are hanging out with other queer kids, it’s because they feel safe and seen there, not because they’re being “influenced.”

Monica:

Early on I wrestled with finding a cause—friends, autism, mental health. I realized it didn’t matter: once I understood this was who Landon was, my only choice was to love and support him. It’s like a lifelong condition you treat and manage—you don’t pray it away.

Becky:

I did the same. The day I realized I couldn’t fix it, I could only love my child—that was a big aha moment.

Julia:

My husband once told extended family asking, “Is this mental illness or Satan’s work?” that if those are the only options you can think of, you’ll have a hard time having a relationship with her. It’s love, understanding, curiosity, compassion—everything else distracts from the relationship.

Megan:

Next myth: “Did autism, social media, school, teachers, friends, Satan, or parents ‘make’ my child trans?” This idea of a “cause”—how do you respond?

Monica:

I obsessed over “why” at first, then realized it’s not going to make it go away—what matters is supporting Landon through his distress. Even if it were a mental‑health issue like bipolar, you still treat and manage it.

Becky:

We have only one choice: love our child. Everything else fades away.

Julia:

I had family call a year after my daughter came out saying they were “trying to figure this out.” My husband said if all you think are mental‑illness or Satan, you’ll miss the chance to understand and love her.

Megan:

“Why” questions keep us in our heads and ruminating, rather than feeling the love in our hearts. Next: “What about those who believe in only two sexes, XX and XY? What do you think?”

Marley:

I worry when policymakers or church officials label sex as so simple. Biology is so complex—conditions like chimerism exist, where one twin absorbs the other’s DNA. Who knows how many possibilities there are? Biology isn’t just male or female.

Jill:

Nature itself shows beauty beyond the binary—twilight, dawn, dusk. My non‑binary kid is the twilight, not night nor day, and how tragic if we miss the gifts they offer by forcing binary labels.

Jeannie:

Even ducks, platypuses, walking trees—nature breaks every rule. It’s insane to think there are only two possibilities.

Megan:

Next theme: the parenting journey itself. When you learned your child was trans or non‑binary, how did you navigate your own feelings—grief, expectations, the “good parent” you pictured? How did you move through that grieving process?

Marley:

My child told me they’d always wished to be a boy when they “wished on a coin in a fountain.” When they came out as pansexual, then later non‑binary, I was supportive, asked questions, grieved my own lost expectations, then embraced an amazing new world.

Megan:

If you resisted at first—how did you get to acceptance, love, confidence?

Monica:

Grief is cyclical. I thought I’d gotten over things, then a memory like seeing Landon sing in high school would hit me and bring tears. It’s okay—grief comes and goes, and it stretches us for growth.

Julia:

Two grief dimensions are unique here: ambiguous loss (you feel you’ve “lost” your child even though they’re right there) and disenfranchised grief (no casseroles delivered, no social support for grieving parents). That complicates everything and takes time and community.

Megan:

Next: “What are things people say—often well‑meaning—that end up hurtful or intrusive? How do you handle those?”

Julia:

Often people assume they know and judge—ask real, heartfelt questions to the person, not make assumptions. Humanize, like Christ did.

Jeannie:

Ask questions of the people you’ve made up your mind about. Make it personal.

Jill:

It shouldn’t have to happen to you for it to matter to you. When one group loses rights, the rest of us aren’t far behind. We’re all connected.

Megan:

Next: “What does your forever or eternity look like now?” Marley?

Marley:

When a friend asked, “Will you choose God or your child on the other side?” I said it’s a false dichotomy—God is love and cannot act against love. Heavenly Parents love all children and know our paths; I’ll be with both my child and God.

Monica:

I don’t worry about that—I trust that it’ll be bigger and greater than I can imagine and follow Christ’s example.

Megan:

Next: “How can you stay true to your belief system and support your transgender/non‑binary child?” Julia?

Julia:

My faith is in a God of love, in personal revelation, in seeing as God sees. This journey deepened and broadened my faith—I’ve grown out of my old “greenhouse” of black‑and‑white thinking.

Becky:

My starting point is Jesus, who leaned into outcasts, touched “unclean” people, and cared more about love than rules. This journey drew me closer to Him and to seeing God as loving.

Monica:

Same for me—it became a faith expansion and spiritual awakening, not a crisis. I feel more comfortable in the unknown now and know the seed of divinity is within us all.

Jill:

My own faith journey of leaving the church taught me compassion for people who say, “I am not who you expected me to be, and are you still going to love me?” I’ve felt that myself, and it expanded my empathy.

Jeannie:

Integrity—knowing I needed to love my child despite what I was taught—was the truest path. Certainty is a myth; if you admit “I don’t know,” there’s your truth.

Megan:

Before we recorded, I learned that resurrection can happen right now, over and over—every surrender to the unknown gives rebirth and new life.

Julia wrote a poem this morning—“Resurrection”—about laying down an old body, releasing false beliefs, and arising to redemptive joy and holiness. It captures this rebirth beautifully.

Next theme: practical support at home. Should I use my child’s chosen name and pronouns? How do I support them if they’re bullied? What resources helped you? How did you and your spouse stay on the same page (or not)?

Jill:

We’re lucky in Utah to have Encircle—a home for LGBTQ+ families offering therapy, friendship circles, programs, and a safe gathering space. Proximity changes everything: sitting on a couch next to a trans person humanizes and dispels fear.

Monica:

I texted Landon: “What do you feel I did right?” He said, “You listen, you educate yourself, you prioritize my health and happiness, and you trust me to know what’s best for me.” Trust is huge—that opens conversations and builds relationship.

Marley:

Listening to other people’s stories on podcasts, then comparing notes with my child—“I heard this; how does that fit your experience?”—helped me learn the right questions and better support them.

Monica (again):

We must process our anger and grief with other parents, not our kids. Build a parent network—faith groups, online support, parent‑of‑trans groups—to keep your child from feeling guilty for your grief.

Megan:

We’ll publish a master list of resources: local centers (Encircle, PFLAG), The Trevor Project, parenting and faith‑inclusive groups, medical providers, etc. One size won’t fit all, especially as laws vary—but bottom line is respect each person’s autonomy over their own body.

Julia:

Community is vital. Those groups give us information, connection, and empathy—both parents and kids need that network.

Marley:

When policies like executive orders erase trans identities, they strip away anti‑discrimination protections—real laws targeting trans and non‑binary people put them in danger. We need more allies speaking out.

Monica:

Bills in places like Texas would make it a felony for an ID to not match appearance. That’s terrifying and real; parents and kids feel that fear.

Megan:

It’s like saying you must be left‑handed or right‑handed—biology doesn’t work that way. Erasing reality dehumanizes people. Speak up: correct misinformation, attend church or school meetings in solidarity, call your legislators, and use your voice even if it’s scary.

Julia:

Churches could be more Christ‑like by including, not excluding, by recognizing love over policy.

Jeannie:

Ask real questions, get to know the person, don’t assume you know their story—humanize, like Christ did.

Jill:

It shouldn’t have to happen to you for you to care. All our rights are connected—when one group loses them, we all lose.

Megan:

Finally: What can allies—families, churches, society—do to support trans and non‑binary individuals and their families?

– Educate yourself and listen.
– Use correct names and pronouns.
– Show up publicly at meetings, services, school boards.
– Build and support affirming communities (Encircle, PFLAG, parent groups).
– Speak out against anti‑trans legislation.
– Ask heartfelt questions, suspend assumptions, honor each person’s autonomy.

Thank you all for sharing your hearts, your journeys, and your wisdom. To every parent or ally out there, know you’re not alone—there’s a growing tribe of badass moms, dads, siblings, friends, and advocates ready to stand with you and your child. We’re all stronger, braver, and more alive when we lift each other up in love.