The transition was messy. Our parents were supportive but distracted.
They were in a protracted divorce after my father had, at 50, come out
as gay. Katje and I dated women, and I would kid Evan that being gay
wasn’t rebellious enough in our family; he had to do us one better and
change gender. Looking back, I regret these jokes. They were a crass way
to cover the pain of knowing that the childhood we all shared–the one
in which we were three round-faced, pigtailed girls in matching
dresses–had been a charade for my brother.