"Look at it this way: You aren’t losing a brother. You’re gaining a sister,” said my brother of 46 years at dinner one night. A month prior I had noticed the makeup on his face. When I asked about it, his response was simple: “I feel better about myself with it on.” I assumed he was gay.
As we sat on his balcony in Chicago, over salmon and focaccia, I listened as he read aloud his personal statement. The letter, written for his boss, explained his decision to transition to living as a woman and his new expectations of others. By the end of the reading, tears flowed. He waited in silence for my response.
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