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The Fear of Hurting Others: One of the Strongest Barriers to Transition

  • Writer: Ms Andrea King
    Ms Andrea King
  • Mar 29
  • 6 min read

Updated: May 20

Everyone assumes they know why trans people wait before coming out or making the decision to transition. Discrimination. Losing your job. The world being a really shitty hostile place.


And yeah, all of that's real. But there's another reason too. An unselfish one that can hold people back for years — decades — a lifetime.


It's not wanting to destroy the people you love.


A hand touches a rain-speckled window, set against a blurred building backdrop. The mood is contemplative, highlighted by muted colors.


Selfish or not?


The "transitioning is selfish" argument has been around as long as transitioning has been visible — and it tends to fall into one of two specific categories.


But before talking about those, it's definitely true that a significant number of trans individuals delay their transition for many years or even suffer an entire lifetime in silence rather than make the decision. They have partners they cherish. Children who rely on them. Parents who are ageing. And c'mon, what's the last thing any sane person wants to do to someone they love? Hurt them of course. Which is exactly what transitioning usually does.


Thoughts such as “I can survive this discomfort”, “I can manage until the kids have grown up” or “Why should everyone else have to pay the price for my truth?” are common.


I delayed my transition. Knowing it would break my Mand's heart after over twenty years together was a line I couldn't cross. That was until ultimately I had no choice. Which leads us on to...


Suicide


There's some who say that transitioning is itself like suicide, in that it's a kind of rubbing out of the person that loved ones knew. The husband, the mother, the son. The "death" of that person. And yeah for sure, some people experience it that way and the grief is very real.


Mands described the day that I finally came out to her — having to admit defeat to my inner unbeatable foe — as the beginning of "a living bereavement." This is a cross we both have to bear, but in our own different ways and for different reasons.


Not in our case, but for others sometimes it develops into something uglier though, when it becomes an accusation — "you died to me" is said to really mean "what you did was as bad as dying."


I totally get that — the loved one feeling anger, upset, resentment for an act that they never signed up for.


Fraud


This one comes up more. You made a commitment — partner, family, kids, whoever — and now you're changing the deal halfway through. You're a fraud. You deceived everyone who trusted you.


And look. A lot of us did. I'm not going to sugarcoat it. I presented a version of myself to the world for fifty-odd years that wasn't the real one.


But here's where this comparison isn't strictly fair is it. It borrows the language of genuine betrayal — trust, deception, fraud — and drops it onto someone who was, in most cases, just trying to not fall apart until they couldn't manage it anymore. I mean really, none of us chose to be born trans, we didn't ask for it.


Like imagine you're getting ready to be conceived and there's an option button to choose from. Tick one: 1.) Male 2.) Female 3.) Trans. How many are going to pick option three, let's be honest here.


A person who deliberately deceives you to take something and a person who's just utterly terrified of the consequences aren't the same thing. That doesn't undo the hurt. But they're definitely not the same thing.


The Emotional Conflict at Breaking Point


Eventually though for pretty much all of us, the emotional strain becomes too much and then when transition does begin, it's rarely confetti, ticker tape and cheers all round is it. Particularly in the early stages, it's often accompanied by a lot of guilt.


In fact there can be intense grief — not grief for being transgender, but grief for the pain it causes.


Partners may experience total "what-the hell" shock, betrayal, loss of the relationship they believed they had or confusion about their own identity and future.

And let's be honest, these are really significant and damned awful feelings they are being forced to cope with.


Children may feel destabilised, frightened about change or protective of the non-transitioning parent. Extended family may respond with anger, silence or disownment.



The Pain on Both Sides


So yes, for the individual transitioning, there's usually guilt for disrupting a partner’s life trajectory. Or for even becoming romantically involved in the first place, knowing that you're hiding a massive secret behind the character you present to the world. Sadness at the possible loss of romantic intimacy. Fear of reduced access to children. Shame triggered by others’ suffering.


For partners, there can be anger at not having known sooner or spotting the signs, fear about social perception and uncertainty about sexual orientation.


For example, think of a cis-woman married to a guy she thinks is just that — he's a guy — who later comes out as a trans female, that's really going to mess with your head. Thoughts like, "so what, does that make me a lesbian?" or "you asshole, now everyone will think I'm a lesbian because I've been with a trans woman?"


Kids are a whole different thing and it really does depend on how old they are.


Little ones? Honestly, they're often fine. Children are weirdly resilient when the adults around them hold it together. Which despite the hurt, sometimes they do “for the sake of the kids.”  They'll have questions. They'll have a nightmare moment when someone at school says something. But they adapt. Sometimes quicker than the grown-ups do.


Teenagers though — And not just teenagers — teenagers in a cruel world where social media is everything. They’re already trying to deal with growing up, school, puberty, zits. The loyalty stuff is brutal at that age. Do I side with mum? Do I side with dad? What do I even tell my mates? It's a lot to drop on someone who's still figuring out who they are themselves.


And adult kids — that's the one people underestimate. Because it's not just "FFS, my parent is trans." It's "everything I thought I knew about my family wasn't quite real."

The emotional landscape is complex and layered. There is often love on all sides — and pain on all sides.


When Fear Becomes Self-Erasure


Here's the difficult truth: staying silent to protect others can gradually lead to depression, emotional withdrawal, substance misuse, disengagement from family life, self-harming and even suicide. I won't bore you with the stats, but if you want to dig them out they'll prove the point.


This creates a messed up scenario. The very act meant to protect the family or loved ones usually ends up hurting them anyway.



The Core Dilemma


Not wanting to hurt the people you love isn't a character flaw. It's actually proof of how much you give a shit.


But you can't hold it together forever. Not many can. And the longer you try, the more damage quietly accumulates in the background — the kind nobody notices until it's already done or too late.


Transition isn't abandonment. It almost never is. It's pure-and-simple survival. And survival doesn't ask permission before it forces your hand.


Pretty much nobody comes out of this without pain. Not the person transitioning, not the partner, not the kids. Pretending otherwise helps nobody.


Is the trans person a selfish villain, maybe. But not intentionally. Was the partner an uncaring bad guy for not understand, no of course not.


Because none of this was ever really about selfishness.


It's love.


Which, in this particular situation, is an absolute bastard.


I am a D&I consultant, keynote speaker, Mental Health First Aider, writer and transgender woman with 20+ years of senior corporate leadership experience. I work with businesses across all sectors to build genuinely inclusive cultures whilst also supporting transgender individuals and their families through every stage of the journey. If this piece resonated, you can find more articles on andreaking.net  or  book a free discovery call if you'd like to talk.


The views expressed in this article are my own and are based on personal experience and perspective. They are not intended as medical, legal or professional advice.



Suggested Reading - The Fear of Hurting Others: One of the Strongest Barriers to Transition




Frequently Asked Questions


Why do some transgender people wait so long to transition?

Because they may be trying to protect partners, children or other loved ones from pain, disruption or grief, even while carrying their own distress.


Does delaying transition mean someone is not really trans?

No. Delay can reflect love, fear, responsibility or safety concerns. It does not negate identity.


Why is transition so emotionally difficult for families?

Because it can bring shock, grief, uncertainty and a need to rethink long-held expectations, even when love remains present.


Can families survive transition?

Yes, many do. Honest communication, support and time can help families find a new balance, though outcomes vary.


Is it selfish to transition if it hurts other people?

Not necessarily. Transition is often an act of survival. The pain can be real without making the transgender person selfish.



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