For most people, Father’s Day conjures up images of neckties, backyard barbecues, and sentimental cards addressed to “Dad.” But for many transgender women, especially those in transition or estranged from family, Father’s Day can land with a hollow thud, not quite painful in the same way as Mother’s Day might be, but strangely disorienting. A day that reminds us not only of the men who raised us but also of the men we were told we were supposed to become.
And depending on who’s doing the remembering, that can hurt.
A Day Built for Someone You Aren’t, Or Were
Growing up, many of us were conditioned to see Father’s Day as a future role to aspire to: the stoic provider, the disciplinarian, the emotionally distant authority figure who meant well but didn’t say much. If you were a trans girl raised as a boy, the holiday wasn’t just about your father. It was about what the world expected you to eventually become.
So when you begin transitioning, Father’s Day becomes a tangled knot of meanings. You may have children who still call you “Dad,” even though you now move through the world as their mother—or something more fluid and complex. Or maybe you’re childfree, but your relatives still treat you like “the man of the family,” conveniently skipping over the part where you’ve told them you’re not a man at all.
And then there’s the way strangers interpret your presence on this day: “Happy Father’s Day!” they say at checkout counters and gas stations, perhaps noticing the low voice, the height, or the years etched on your face that mark you as “formerly male” in their eyes. You smile and nod, too tired to explain that the compliment doesn’t land, not in the way they think.
RELATED: Father’s Day Reflections: Navigating Family Dynamics as a Transgender Individual
The Ghost of “Dad” and the Lives We’ve Lived
For some trans women, the role of “Dad” still lingers. And not always in a negative way.
There are trans women who are loving, present parents to their children. They may still go by “Dad” or a gender-neutral term. Some have kids who’ve adapted seamlessly, recognizing that love matters more than titles. For them, Father’s Day is about presence, not performance.
But even in these affirming cases, there’s a duality to the experience. You’re being celebrated for a role that doesn’t reflect your inner truth, but one you lived, sincerely, for years. You changed diapers. You attended school plays. You stayed up late helping with science projects. None of that disappears when you come out. It simply evolves.
Many trans women talk about feeling like ghosts at their own Father’s Day celebrations, present but not fully seen. Not because they’re ashamed of their past, but because the world hasn’t figured out how to reconcile the idea of a woman who used to be someone’s dad.
For Those Without Fathers
There’s also the other side of this holiday: those of us whose fathers are estranged, gone, or never really showed up to begin with.
Many trans people, especially trans women, experience strained or severed relationships with their dads. For some, coming out was the breaking point. For others, the relationship had always been cold, controlling, or built on a foundation of outdated gender roles. Father’s Day, then, becomes a reminder of what we didn’t have.
And yet, even in the absence of a traditional father figure, we often find fatherhood in other forms: mentors, chosen family, queer elders, and even platonic father-like figures who step in to say the things we never heard growing up:
- “I’m proud of you.”
- “You’re enough.”
- “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
In this way, Father’s Day becomes about honoring the people who gave us safety and guidance, regardless of biology, gender, or social expectation.
When You’re a Trans Woman With Kids
One of the most under-discussed experiences in the trans community is that of trans women who are also parents, especially those who had children before transitioning.
Some women choose to keep the title “Dad.” Others use different labels, or none at all. The journey often depends on how young the children were when you came out, how supportive your co-parent is, and how society responds to your family dynamic.
For those with younger kids, the transition is often smoother: children are incredibly adaptive, and love tends to matter more than vocabulary. But that doesn’t stop society from staring when you show up to the “Father’s Day Breakfast” at school in a floral blouse and heels.
In some families, co-parents or ex-partners weaponize Father’s Day. They use it to reinforce gendered expectations or to push back against your transition under the guise of “what’s best for the kids.” The day becomes less about parenting and more about power, control, and gatekeeping.
But even here, there’s light. Some trans women share stories of Father’s Day cards where their kids scribble out “Dad” and write “Mommy #2” or invent entirely new names for the parent they love. These moments are small, but they are radiant. They are reminders that you are loved, even if the world hasn’t figured out what to call you yet.
The Role of Chosen Family
For trans people who are alienated from their families of origin, chosen family can make all the difference.
If your own father isn’t in your life, or if your transition led to a painful rupture, Father’s Day can feel like salt in a wound. But chosen family flips the script. It offers you the chance to be fathered differently, through love, respect, and mutual care rather than duty and obligation.
You might call your mentor to say thank you. You might reach out to a friend who took you in when you had nowhere to go. Or maybe you gather with your queer siblings to celebrate each other, giving the finger to Hallmark and creating your own rituals of love and acknowledgment.
You don’t need a cishet nuclear family to deserve celebration.
Finding Peace With Your Own Past
For many trans women, Father’s Day dredges up complicated memories, not of fatherhood, but of being fathered under pressure to conform.
You remember the ballgames you were forced to play, the haircuts you hated, and the way your dad winced when you cried “too easily.” You remember being told to “man up,” to “be tough,” to stop acting like a girl.
Sometimes your father loved you but didn’t know how. Sometimes he loved you the only way he was taught: through silence, through authority, and through conditional approval. And sometimes he didn’t love you at all.
If he’s still alive, maybe you’ve tried to rebuild. Maybe you’ve reached a tentative peace, or maybe you’ve stopped reaching altogether.
Whatever your situation, you are not alone in these emotions. Father’s Day is not a one-size-fits-all experience. It’s a mirror held up to your past, and it can reflect grief, love, disappointment, relief, or all of the above.
Let yourself feel those things. All of them. You don’t need to fake neutrality or squeeze yourself into a gendered holiday that was never made for you.
What This Day Can Become
For transgender women, Father’s Day can be a reclamation.
- Reclaiming your story.
- Reclaiming your role in your children’s lives, however that looks.
- Reclaiming space to grieve the father you never had or the one who left.
- Reclaiming compassion for the version of you that once wore the “Dad” label and did their best, even in the dark.
The holiday may never feel like it fits. But maybe it doesn’t have to. Maybe it can be what you make of it: quiet reflection, joyful celebration, or just another day of being real in your own skin.Because if there’s anything trans women know how to do, it’s redefine the narrative.
We’ve made families where none existed. We’ve loved our kids across fault lines and labels. We’ve been both parents at once, and sometimes neither. And we’ve done it all while fighting for the right to simply be.
That deserves recognition. Even on Father’s Day.
The Bottom Line
Whether you’re a trans woman being celebrated today or quietly enduring it, whether you’re estranged from your father or missing one who tried their best, know this: your experience is valid.
If today hurts, you’re allowed to step back.
If today uplifts you, you’re allowed to smile.
If today confuses you, that makes sense too.
There is no “right way” to feel about a day rooted in roles that don’t reflect who you are anymore. But there is power in acknowledging the truth of your journey and the courage it takes to live authentically, regardless of what the calendar says.
So if you’re celebrating, grieving, ignoring, or reinventing Father’s Day this year, we see you.
And you’re not alone.
