EDITOR’S NOTE: The OBSERVER is observing Pride month with “Black PRIDE,” a series telling the stories of and identifying the critical issues for Black LGBTQIA+ folk in the Sacramento area. Note: This article uses the terms “Black LGBTQIA+” and “Black queer and trans” interchangeably.
By Jared D. Childress | OBSERVER Staff Writer
Lyric Lyons’ father passed away from colon cancer a month after he walked her down the aisle. Within two years, the 35-year-old had lost both her parents.
“Everyone keeps asking what they can do for me,” Lyons said in a May 16 video on social media. “What you can do is get in contact with your parents and tell them you love them – because I can’t run to either of my parents and tell them that. I just have to hope they know.”
Lyons was in the hospital with her father more than 10 hours when he passed May 12 at 62. She collapsed when she heard the news.
“It was the first time anyone really saw my grief,” Lyons said. “Before that I had to be present and be strong.”
Life wasn’t easy for Lyons and her parents. Lyons, a Black transgender woman, grew up a feminine child in a household that didn’t know what to make of her. But Lyons’ gender was the least of their concerns. Throughout her childhood, Lyons’ parents struggled to keep a roof over their heads. As a teenager, she sometimes slept at McKinley Park and in the morning took the two-mile bus ride to Sacramento High School.
Her parents couldn’t protect her from the realities of growing up a poor Black child in the inner city. But what they couldn’t provide in material resources, they made up for in pure, unadulterated love.
Her father, a veteran named Tony, was born and raised in San Francisco but his family was from Alabama. He made his living as a commercial driver, at one point driving for the local public transit. Lyons remembers him not working for stretches of time. She believes he suffered from depression.
“I think a lot of Black families suffer from undiagnosed mental health conditions,” she said. Lyons’ observation is backed by a recent survey that reports 67% of Blacks don’t feel comfortable sharing their mental health status with loved ones, while only 12% of whites don’t.
Tony tried to keep her from playing dress-up as a toddler. But as her personality continued to show itself, he stopped fighting and allowed her to just be. He became protective of her, even reprimanding her brother who once called her a slur.
Tony discovered Lyons was trans in 2006 after word got back she was presenting as female on social media; he confronted 18-year-old Lyons. He cursed in anger and frustration, but ended the conversation with, “I love you still.”
“They weren’t thrilled I was trans,” Lyons said of her parents. “But they knew this was who I was, whether they liked it or not.”
Tony had a cancer-related procedure the day before Lyons’ wedding but was determined to walk her down the aisle. Hours after surgery, he was on a plane to the destination wedding. He told Lyons, “Your mom would have loved to see you in your dress.”
Lyons was on a layover in Oregon when she got the call in 2021 that her mom passed from lung cancer at 70. Lyons, a flight attendant, took the next flight back to Sacramento.
Her mother, Deborah, was a Creole homemaker from New Orleans. She’d lost both her parents by the age of 13 and always stressed the importance of family.
Lyons describes her as “a spitfire.”
“My mom would have these moments when she’d get so angry,” Lyons said. “My brother would call it ‘the warpath of love’ — don’t get in her way when she’s on the warpath of love.”
Lyons was patient with her mom, who initially had “a lot of homophobic beliefs.” As a child, Lyons heard her use an anti-LGBTQIA+ slur on several occasions. Only once was it directed at her, slipping out in a fit of rage when they were homeless. An apology followed but it was too late to take it back.
“My heart shattered into a million pieces,” Lyons said. “It made me realize that’s how my mom saw me.”
She was 20 when, in 2008, she told her mom via text that she was trans. She remembers her mother’s response: “Baby, I know — and I’ve known. It’s not my favorite thing, but I love you.”
She saw her mom for the last time on Valentine’s Day, three weeks before she passed on March 4, 2021. Deborah was dealing with cancer-related dementia but perked up when she saw Lyons and her boyfriend. They spent their time laughing and taking photos.
Lyons said she will never get past this grief, but finds comfort in memories of their life together, such as nerding out with her father over anime or watching her mother cook New Orleans stuffed bell peppers.
“Any Earth, Wind and Fire song reminds me of my dad,” Lyons said. Her mother comes to mind when before leaving for the grocery store she tells her husband, “I’m going to go ‘make’ groceries,” a Creole turn of phrase.
The unabashed love extended to Lyons isn’t the norm for Black queer and trans children. While she didn’t grow up with a silver spoon or parents hip to the latest terminology, she believes their love made her the capable person she is today.
She took care of both parents in their last years, at times getting them cell phones and managing their medical care.
“My parents loved me unconditionally,” Lyons said. “I could show up dirty, bruised, broken, nasty — and my parents would still love me.”
The Parent-Child Relationship
Dr. Malakai Coté, a local licensed psychologist trained in child and family therapy, said self-worth is related to the parent-child relationship.
“Love is grounding. You’re able to walk through challenges when you’re connected to the truth of your intrinsic self-worth,” said Coté, 41, who identifies as nonbinary. He added that Black liberation has been driven by intrinsic self-worth because “that’s what we’ve had to do. And we’re living that legacy now.”
Coté has 10 years of professional experience and works largely with youth. He said family systems matter.
“The dynamics of family units are important,” Coté said. “But ecological factors also matter. There’s the parent-child relationship, but there’s also school, community, culture, and the world that impacts children.”
There’s a lot parents can’t control.
A record number of anti-LGBTQIA+ bills have been written this year. By April, 417 pieces of legislation had been introduced into state governments nationwide, according to data from the American Civil Liberties Union.
This is coupled with anti-LGBTQIA+ acts and threats of violence. A November nightclub shooting in Colorado Springs killed five and Target recently pulled Pride merchandise citing concern for employees’ safety.
“There’s always going to be concern that’s rooted in love and care for your child,” Coté said. “And you also have a celebration of that love, creating a safe space in your home, and advocating in ways that you can.”
There is robust data about parent-child attachment that shows children shown affection become healthy, well-adjusted adults. Healthy parental relationships are lifesaving for Black queer and trans youth who experience higher rates of depression and suicide. Affirming homes increase self-esteem and resilience while decreasing rates of depression and substance abuse.
The majority of Black queer and trans youth don’t have supportive home environments, according to a 2019 report by the Human Rights Campaign. It reports 77% of Black queer and trans youth have heard family members say negative things about LGBTQIA+ folks — 10% higher than the overall average. Only 19% of Black LGBTQIA+ youth said they could be themselves at home, 80% feel depressed and 71% feel worthless.
There is a growing concern for all Black teens, as rates of suicide attempts among Black youth is rising.
The numbers are alarming. But Coté said statistics alone aren’t enough to change a parent’s guttural reaction.
“There’s all this research highlighting what happens when a supportive adult is there,” Coté said. “But in these moments, all that stuff goes out the window because it’s really about people’s beliefs.”
Chosen Family
Kevin McAllister doesn’t notice the scar on his face from his father’s fists, but it took him years of therapy to get to that point. He even took a test in his 20s looking at how his father’s traumas influenced his verbal and physical abuse.
McAllister said the test was eye-opening but it didn’t excuse his father’s behavior.
“It’s funny because you’ll hear parents say, ‘There’s no book on parenting,’” McAllister, 41, said. “There’s a lot of books — you just didn’t take the time to read them.”
McAllister, a cisgender Black gay man, is an AmeriCorps alumnus with a master’s in organizational leadership. In 2020 he was recognized on Sacramento Business Journal’s “40 Under 40” list for his work as the executive director of Meals on Wheels.
Impressive on paper, but his success metric is his happiness. He credits beating the odds to his chosen family, which includes two Black women who took him under their wings.
“It was interesting to not have a mom at home but to have two, badass African American women in my life,” McAllister said of the two women he met at 16. He’d go on to work for them when he was selected for AmeriCorps at 18.
Yvonne Jackson, his former boss, said they created a familial workplace atmosphere.
“I think he felt accepted being in our environment,” Jackson, 60, said. “He probably didn’t have the input in his own household.”
McAllister didn’t want for anything growing up — at least nothing material. His childhood room had double doors and a king-sized bed. He went to a school where he estimates the median annual family income was $500,000.
He was raised in Solano County by his single father, a disabled veteran he describes as “strict.” McAllister said his father yelled at, choked and hit him. His mother battled addictions to alcohol and gambling; he had off-and-on weekend visits where she’d heat the house with the stove.
McAllister was 18 when he came out to his father. His dad responded by moving out. Shortly afterward, they had another conversation about it; his dad pushed him into a door, he said.
He came out to his mother years later. He remembers her saying, “I wouldn’t have had you if I’d known you were going to be gay.”
Today, McAllister speaks in a matter-of-fact way about his childhood because he no longer harbors resentment. He speaks to his “biological” parents a couple times a year, but is uninterested in a close relationship.
“They served their purpose,” he said.
He owns a cabin in Cazadero, an unincorporated city in Sonoma County with a median income of $100,000; he’s about 15 minutes from the beach. When his teenage sister wanted to visit him, his father came too.
“I watched him sit in my recliner and listen to the Isley Brothers,” McAllister said. “His eyes closed, just relaxed.”
His parents are pushing 70, but they won’t be living with him. “I don’t have that bond to where I’m personally going to take care of my parents,” McAllister said. “But I’ll pay someone to do it.”
McAllister’s experience with both supportive and unsupportive parental relationships informs his opinion on love.
“Unconditional love isn’t about who your kid should be,” McAllister said. “It’s about truly holding space for them.”
Nobody’s Perfect
Ebony Chambers-McClinton found out her 18-year-old was a lesbian when her daughter’s friend casually mentioned it in 2019.
Chambers-McClinton, now 43, wondered why her daughter didn’t tell her. Her life’s work is equity and social justice; she makes her living working with underserved families and is the president of Black Womxn United, a nonprofit that regularly centers Black queer and trans voices.
While Chambers-McClinton is married to a man, has four children and two grandchildren, she openly identifies as pansexual (someone able to love people of all genders). Last year, she was grand marshal for the Sacramento PRIDE parade.
Why didn’t her daughter feel comfortable telling her?
In 2016 her daughter, Lauren, overheard her jokingly call another teenage girl’s sexuality “a phase.” So, 15-year-old Lauren made the decision not to tell her mom.
Even though Chambers-McClinton had both knowledge and her own lived experience, she still perpetuated homophobic ideals.
“She said she didn’t want to tell me if I was just going to call it a phase,” Chambers-McClinton said. “I unknowingly caused her harm because I caused her to hold something in.”
Lauren said the comment was only part of the reason she didn’t tell her mom. While she wasn’t afraid her mother wouldn’t accept her, she feared their candid conversations about gender and sexuality would change.
She explained there was a bit of a learning curve for her mother when the nonbinary gender entered public discourse. “It took her a while to understand. She’d ask me questions I don’t think she would have asked if she knew I was gay,” Lauren said.
Four years later and their relationship hasn’t changed. Lauren said her mother still speaks openly and asks questions. She says her mom is her best friend and has inspired her to go into advocacy work.
“My mom is an inspiration and the driving force behind almost everything I do,” Lauren said. “The way she can communicate really amazes me.”
Chambers-McClinton sees her mistake as a lesson.
“Oftentimes we as parents raise our kids to believe we are the experts on all things, but we’re not,” Chambers-McClinton said. “The more we can normalize being a learner, the more it sets a positive example that it’s ok to make mistakes.”
Resources For Parents And Loved Ones Of LGBTQIA+ Folks
Learning how to be supportive can feel like an overwhelming task. Here are some resources for the loved ones of LGBTQIA+ folks. They are from PFLAG, the nation’s largest organization dedicated to supporting, educating, and advocating for LGBTQ+ people and those who love them. Learn more about the national organization at PFLAG.org or check out the local branch at pflagsacramento.org.
Tips For Supporting LGBTQIA+ Loved Ones
- Lead with love. For some, this will be the natural response. For others, long-held beliefs may get in the way of being able to respond positively and supportively. While saying “I love you” is one obvious way to express your love for your child, if you find yourself at a loss for words, as many of us do sometimes, a hug can speak volumes.
- Listen with intention. Give your child ample opportunity to open up and share their thoughts and feelings.
- Show subtle support. It matters not whether this is done by speaking positively about an LGBTQIA+ person, reflecting out loud about gender or sexuality issues, or openly reading and sharing new learning about gender or sexual diversity.
- Learn the terms. What is sexual orientation? What does it mean to be “bisexual?” Learning the language is a great way to start having important and sometimes challenging conversations.
Tips For Self-Support
- Remember that you’re not alone. Research shows that 8 in 10 people in the U.S. personally know someone who is LGB, and 1 in 3 know someone who is transgender.
- Remember that your feelings are valid. There is no one way to react to learning that your child or a loved one is LGBTQIA+. Some feel happy that their child opened up to them and others may have more complex emotions, such as fear, guilt, sadness, or even anger.
- Remember that this is a journey. While you want to express your love for your child as quickly as you can, remember that you are in a process; addressing your reaction and moving forward will take time.
- Remember that you’re important. Self-care is crucial, which means that even as you are learning how best to support your child or loved one, you must also find support for yourself. Visit pflag.org to find a local meeting and helpful resources.