I was listening to “This American Life” on NPR today and they repeated a segment from show they titled “Somewhere Out There” (first aired Feb. 13, 2009).   These were stories from people who know they’ve beaten the odds against any two people finding they are a real match.

The segment that caught my interest was about 2 eight-year-olds, Lilly and Thomasina, who each believed that there was no one like her in the whole world, until they met each other, and instantly became best friends for life.   Lilly and Thomasina are both girls who were born into male bodies, i.e., they are transgendered children.   They live as girls, wearing girls clothes, playing girls games.  But they are girls with a secret.  It’s a secret that, if known by their peers, teachers, or other parents, could make their lives hellish.  Listening to them is an extraordinary experience.

There is a moment when one of the eight-year-olds asks her parents to please only refer to her as “she” and “her”, never  again to be called “he” or “him.”  Mom quickly agrees.  Dad repeats back to the child what he heard, but does not actually agree or disagree.  And I feel my heart crack.

I feel the pain of Dad feeling he’s “losing” a son and not knowing what to do with those feelings.  I feel the weight of thousands of years of ignorance and fear blocking from Dad what is so obvious to me, the listener.  I feel angry at our culture, that supposedly values individual freedoms, yet tries to enforce rigid, archaic, ignorant beliefs and behaviors, using the weapons of disapproval, shunning, and shaming.

And mostly I feel the delight if these children discovering that they are not alone.