I’ve heard much debate in the past year about what constitutes a “healthy family.” Some politicians argue that the best environment for a child is one with a mother and a father — and the underlying context here is that a “normal” family should be helmed by a “normal” heterosexual couple.

For me, “normal” is something entirely different. Yes, I grew up with a happily married mother and father in a small, conservative Midwestern town. But my father is transgender, and he’s a cross-dresser. He has never tried to hide these facts from anyone.

As you can imagine, my family stuck out like a sore thumb in our small town, though I didn’t quite realize to what extent until my dad legally changed his name from Michael to Trisha. And yes, I sometimes still get tripped up about whether to refer to my dad as “he” or “she.” Growing up with Trisha caused me some grief, mostly because I worried about what other people thought of my family and me. But Trisha just went about her business, painting prolifically in oil on canvas, playing the banjo — and winning people over by simply being a good friend, neighbor and parent. You can’t choose your parents. Now I know that I wouldn’t want my dad any other way.

What I’m trying to do now, with this short piece and with a feature-length documentary I’m working on, is to put myself in Dad’s shoes, and in the shoes of other LGBT families across the country. There are a lot of us out there, and I hope that one day we will see “healthy family” redefined to include us, too.