A Valentine to Parents Who Love and Support Their LGBTQIA+ Kids

Valentine’s Day is usually framed as a celebration of romantic love, but every year I find myself thinking about a different kind of love, the kind that shows up in living rooms, late-night conversations, worried text messages, and quiet moments when a child finally lets a truth slip out that they’ve been carrying alone.

I think about the parents in this community. The ones I meet through coaching, in comments, in connection calls, in messages sent at moments of real vulnerability. Parents who are doing the complicated, beautiful work of loving their LGBTQIA+ kids in a world that still makes that harder than it should be.

I feel blessed to be connected to these families.

I’ve heard so many stories over the past few years, and they return to me often. Stories of parents who sat across from a child they thought they knew completely, only to hear a trembling explanation about gender or sexuality, not a declaration, but a plea for safety. And even in the parent’s own shock or fear, they found words of reassurance. They made sure their child heard, clearly and immediately, that they were loved, believed, and held.

There are stories of parents of trans kids who took classes, read books, listened to podcasts, or sought out support groups so they could understand what their child might be navigating. Some did this before their child asked for anything specific, simply because they wanted to be prepared to meet their child’s needs with dignity and care.

There are stories of repair, the kind that happens when a parent makes a mistake, notices the impact, and chooses connection instead of defensiveness. Parents who say, “I’m sorry, and I’m learning,” and then prove it by changing how they show up.

There are parents who advocate not only for their child, but for the people around them. Parents who educate siblings, grandparents, extended family, teachers, and community members. Parents who spend emotional energy encouraging others to step toward acceptance. And, when necessary, parents who choose their child’s safety and wellbeing over long-standing relationships that cannot stretch enough to include their child as they are.

I also think often about the comments sections on my posts, the ones where parents speak directly to other parents with encouragement and compassion, or where they write messages addressed to trans kids who may be reading quietly in the background. Those comments have been seen by young people who do not have support at home, and those young people have told me how much comfort they’ve found there. They read the words of parents who are not their own and imagine, even for a moment, what it would feel like to be loved like that.

When the news cycle turns bleak, when political rhetoric becomes loud and cruel, when anti-trans sentiment feels overwhelming, these stories, these parents, are what keep me grounded. They remind me that while the world can be harsh, families can be places of extraordinary tenderness and courage. They remind me that hope is not abstract. It’s found in the daily choices parents make to listen, to learn, to repair, and to love their children exactly as they are.

So this Valentine’s Day, I want to honour the parents who are doing this work. This love, intentional, expanding, imperfect, courageous, is changing lives. In many cases, it is saving them.

I’m grateful to walk beside you.