I Am Not Ruby Bridges’ Mother

I am Michael’s* mother. And I am tired of watching him hurt.

*originally published July 20, 2023, Pink Hair and Pronouns; names changed for discretion

Ruby Bridges being escorted on school steps. Public domain.

I have such an enormous respect for the individuals who have gone before us and put their entire lives on the line for advancements in civil rights.

Rosa Parks. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Harvey Milk, Marsha P. Johnson, and Audre Lord — all adults during the majority of their civil rights work.

But Ruby Bridges was a little girl.

A scared, targeted six-year-old girl. I admire her tenacity and strength beyond words, and I admire her mother’s sacrifice and vision in sending her little girl into the mouths of lions to push forward progress in our nation. I used to say I couldn’t imagine what it took.

But now I know. And I know I am not Ruby Bridges’ mother.

I am the mother of a transgender teenager.

My son has been repeatedly physically, verbally, and even sexually assaulted on school property at our local public high school in Virginia. Nothing has been done to stop the behavior and protect my child so he can merely exercise his rights to a free public education in the United States of America. Instead, every day is a struggle, an assault on his person and his dignity.

And we are just tired.

We have read personal statements in front of the local school board. We have met with and communicated with school administrators more times than I can count, only for him to be told that he must “be understanding,” that kids are “curious about the whole trans thing because it’s so new.” (And yes, this was an actual quote by an upper-level administrator at his high school.)

My son must “understand” when fellow students attempt to pull down his pants, or reach inside his pants, to “see what he has?” He has to take that moment to educate them on transgenderism and the spectrum of human sexuality? At fifteen years old?

While trapped inside the stall of a public school bathroom?

I am not Ruby Bridges’ mother. I cannot send my child into the fire day after day and watch his mental health suffer, his confidence crumble, the effervescence of his personality begin to fade, because he is continually harassed and assaulted.

I am not Ruby Bridges’ mother. I cannot look in the faces of strangers — their faces contorted with rage as they scream about people like my child — as they demand (and usually achieve) outright segregation and discrimination in schools for transgender kids, all due to their own discomfort and lack of understanding about what it means to be transgender, or gay, or non-binary, anything outside their white, conservative Christian bubble that they personally deem scary or confusing. I cannot witness this and maintain my composure, my dignity, or my peace.

I am not Ruby Bridges’ mother.

I am not that strong.

I am not that brave.

I am not that willing to sacrifice my child for the cause of progress. Ruby struggled with PTSD for many years due to her experiences merely trying to attend school. Like most parents, I don’t want my child to struggle with PTSD well into adulthood.

I want for him to be mentally and psychologically healthy, well-supported, respected, and affirmed.

It concerns me that our society demands many women to be some form of Ruby Bridges’ mother.

When politicians make laws targeted at transgender children, they’re forcing mothers of trans kids to be like Ruby Bridges’ mother. It forces moms to choose between sending their kids into hostile public school environments, or segregating them by resorting to homeschool, virtual school, or private school options — none of which, of course, are paid for as an alternative to the abusive public school environment.

None of these rabid legislators, politicians, governors, or media influencers know my child.

None of them know that he will sit with his four-year-old sister and hold her as she cries. None of them know that he will stand up for someone else being bullied at school, even putting himself in physical danger to do so. None of them know how he writes poems, essays, and pieces with a depth and wisdom far beyond his years. None of them know that he reads beyond a 12th grade reading level and literally writes book reports for fun. None of them know that he’s a great cook and will make dinner for the family when I’m too busy or not feeling well.

None of them know him.

None of them know the excruciating journey it’s been for him to come to live his authentic life.

None of them know that when he was living as a girl, he was explosively angry, deeply depressed, and suicidal. None of them know that transitioning has saved his sanity and, quite literally, his life.

None of them know that he’s not “cutting off” any body parts, he’s not taking hormones, he’s transitioning at an appropriate, healthy pace with a team of medical professionals to guide us.

None of them know the first thing about my trans son, or my decisions as a parent with regards to raising him. They know the caricature that’s been created by politicians and political forces who have far sinister plans than merely restricting the rights of transgender people: they want to restrict all of our rights, so they use people like my child to sacrifice on this political altar poorly masked as some kind of morality.

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The current attack on transgender children is made all the more disturbing because, given the political environment in our nation over recent years, trans kids typically already have existing mental health issues, suicidal ideations, and trauma from being rejected in social, familial, and even medical settings.

Being transgender doesn’t inherently give these kids mental health issues. Being targeted by adults in positions of great power, and being harassed and assaulted by classmates whose parents are blindly devoted to these political figures — all the while trying to figure out their own physical experience — that is what gives transgender kids mental health issues.

Existing in a world that suddenly hates them is what causes mental health issues.

I’m tired of watching my baby hurt.

I’m willing to withdraw with him, to sit with him as he engages with virtual schooling, and to just hold his hand as he cries some days, because really, I am not Ruby Bridges’ mother. I am Michael’s mother. And I want desperately, more than anything, for Michael to live, and to live fully, freely, and happily.

If you want anything less for my son or any other transgender child in America, then you are public enemy number one in my eyes.

You are no different than the white women who threw items at a six-year-old child trying to go to school, no different than the hateful women who put a black doll in a coffin and brought it up to her local schoolhouse to demonstrate to this little girl how deeply she was hated.

You. Are. No. Different.

The progress isn’t happening soon enough for our family.

Since I am not Ruby Bridges’ mother, I have to make decisions as Michael’s mother. I need to ensure Michael will make it to adulthood mentally and psychologically whole, that he can achieve his educational goals without fear of assault or harassment, and that he has every chance to live a flourishing, healthy life as an adult.

Maybe it’s giving up, to withdraw him from public school entirely. But for some of us, “giving up” is becoming our only chance at health and survival.

But let’s be completely transparent: if you think you are safe from government intrusion in your life, your parenting, your freedoms, then you are walking on extremely thin ice and the slippery slope may one day tilt toward your home and household and family.

Maybe you’ll discover you, too, lack the strength to be Ruby Bridges’ mom.

And maybe you’ll wish there were some alternative so your child could have the same uninhibited freedoms as others, to be free from assault and attack. You’ll wish adults weren’t targeting your children for political harassment. Maybe you’ll discover that your freedoms end where others’ begin, and maybe you’ll be lucky enough to discover that without sacrificing your children’s well-being.

I am not Ruby Bridges’ mother, but I am Michael’s.

And as Michael’s mom, I hope your child never has to experience the vitriol, hatred, assumptions, and political attacks that Ruby, or Michael, has experienced.

Because I am a mother who believes in love, compassion, acceptance, encouragement, and the beauty of diversity. I am a mother (and veteran) who believes in personal freedoms and rights.

More than anything, I believe in Michael, because he is a person worthy of basic human dignity, respect, and an education. Just like Ruby Bridges was, just as each and every one of our children is.

My name is Melissa Corrigan, and I’m a freelance writer/thought sharer/philosopher in coastal Virginia. I am a mom, a wife, a veteran, and so much more. I deeply enjoy sharing my thoughts and receiving feedback that sparks genuine, respectful conversation. Writing on Substack as CounterStory Media with side rants on Does She Shut Up?!