Holding Trans Hope Through Family Court
When my ex-husband told me in writing he was going to get me in front of a judge to prove me a liar and a fraud, I didn’t flinch. He was right because I, too, knew it would be the only way to clear a path to get the autonomy and a chance at an authentic life that my kids needed and deserved. Leading up to one of many court appearances, a trial where decision making rights for health care (which I won) and parenting time on the table, my ex-husband wrote a letter to the Adams county Judge presiding over our case.
“Should the children not be exchanged … I wanted to please make the Court aware of how I hope to proceed. I will file a Motion for Contempt … I will ask for Immediate Decision Making indefinitely. I will ask for the police to arrest Alex Vaughan. I will ask that the police be allowed to remove the children from Alex Vaughan’s home and place … directly into my care.”
I was going back to work full-time, and my ex-husband had a long history of using tactics of coercive control to get what he wanted. This included (but was not limited to) bullying me to give him parenting time that wasn’t his, blocking access to our children’s healthcare, misgendering and deadnaming our child on purpose, withholding child support as punishment, filing relentless motions in court as a pro se lawyer, accusing me of hiding inheritance I’d received from my deceased father, demanding $50,000 in random settlements, verbally and psychologically assaulting me, my lawyer, and the Child Legal Representative over Talking Parents, text, and emails.
His behavior at in-person exchanges was quiet violence. Hard staring, menacing, and stiff body language; he brought a white board with a dry erase marker (he’s a teacher) with him, telling the kids he was going to write down anything I did he saw as problematic. This was after the Judge told him to stop recording us with his phone. He threatened to report any provider to their governing board who would not give him information he wanted to appointments he didn’t attend and wasn’t invited to.
As the Child and Family Investigator, Dr. Mark Kilmer, suspended in 2023 from the Colorado court system, wrote in our 2022 report, I should not go anywhere near my ex-husband, recommending that I do not interact with him face to face whatsoever and that “problem-solving becomes impossible and/or unnecessarily delayed.” This record of domestic abuse went ignored. Living through this dehumanization, my ex-husband could not understand that who my daughter and I are as transgender people, and how we live, is not his decision nor in his control.
Without the support of the Court, I knew that any flow of life would be stopped dead in its tracks. How? Because I’d been living in it for years. After receiving notice of the letter he wrote to the Judge, I laid on the back porch in the sunlight for 30 minutes, breathing, crying, letting my nervous system alchemize the energy. I laughed. These threats, though empty, were frequent and came at a relentless pace. It was intentional, attempts to pummel me, to make me feel like I couldn’t keep up. As a trans child, my daughter’s life entered the courtroom carrying assumptions by her father she didn’t consent to. My wife and I made deliberate points to laugh during those five years we spent in family court because laughter brought exceptional relief amidst a time where life felt stranger and more dangerous than fiction.
Being a transgender, nonbinary parent to a transgender child, I had a huge advantage-—my lived experience—but it held nuance I was not sure providers nor the Court would be able to hear and see right away. The hearing when the magistrate berated me and my ex-husband for not “getting along” revealed to me how heteronormative narratives rule, and transphobia will be impossible to detect to the untrained heart. Every motion filed, every hearing attended, and every trial held was holding onto hope that the Universe was looking out for us. Every step alongside my lawyer was purposeful and intentional to make a dent in a system that was not built for us.
I was the system’s best nightmare—a queer parent, a queer coach, protective, and unwilling to be silent. There is a very hard line to draw when a parent dehumanizes their child. Joy can diffuse fear. Creating an authentic life is a radical act of love with the legal system designed to not just let transgender people fall through the cracks, but ignore them completely. It says, “If we ignore them, then they don’t exist.”
Going through family court was a risk as an LGBTQ+ family, one that impacted all of us in so many ways. It changed us. As a family we transitioned—even those of us who aren’t trans—into allies, advocates, and accomplices. Our case ended in many wins, but winning wasn’t about getting all the parenting time and decision-making, but breaking the cycle so my children could grow up free and brave to be honest about who they are.
The fact that my wife and I had the privilege and opportunity to even navigate the system is never far from my mind. The system is structurally gendered, often inconsistent, and frequently hostile and unprepared to meet the needs of transgender people. It is exhaustive on purpose to trans/queer identities entering it. Knowing that going in, I was strategic in requesting affirming legal representation. I built a team; any provider or court-appointed official who participated in our case needed to have interacted with transgender identity. My child’s life was on the line as she was being dragged through court by a parent for being honest.
The wellbeing of the transgender community across the country is being compromised. Kids, parents, caregivers, adults. Many live in states that do not possess the emotional depth nor the skills to navigate the nuanced care they need.
What is missing? Compassionate empathy.
Photos by Becky Duffyhill
