The Dads

My name is Stephen Chukumba, and I'm the father of Hobbes.

My name is Frank Gonzales, and I am the father of Libby Gonzales.

My name's Jose Trujillo, and I'm the father of Dan.

My name is Peter Betz, and I am the father of Samantha.

My name is Wayne Maines, and I'm the father of Nicole Maines.

My name is Dennis Shepard. I am the father of Matthew Shepard.

Last time I went fishing was in August of 1998.

It was a family reunion in the Bighorns.

It was, uh, the last fishing trip that we had with Matt.

I still remember running the loop through and running the...

the lures or the... the swivel down and tightening it,

and then tying a double knot.

Even if it's been 25 years, you never lose that.

It's, uh, ingrained in your... in your memory.

The peacefulness of standing out there on the water

and, like, looking around and quietly fishing,

but knowing that you all have each other's back,

and you're there for each other.

I think back to some of the outdoors experiences

that I've had with my dad.

This is what I want to pass on to my kids.

Respecting nature, loving nature.

But it's not safe for us all the time.

I definitely think about my child's safety

when he leaves the house.

He is a Black man.

He is a Black trans man.

He's a Black trans man in America.

It's a constant conversation I have with myself

because I know

that all parts of this country are not safe for trans people.

In my daughter's case,

she grew up in the same town and transitioned in that town.

And it was... seemed like it was fine,

and then she started to get a false sense of security,

and when she started to talk to the other classmates about it,

that's when it went really bad

and started losing all of her friends.

Do you think it was

the parent?

I think there was a parent component

because, simultaneously, we lost all of our friends as well.

The America that I grew up idolizing,

you worked hard, and you were successful.

You could be anything you wanted to be. But not these kids.

- I'm happy that we're at this table. - Right.

With all of our different backgrounds,

seeing the same fucked-up shit happening to all of us,

and disabusing us from the belief that this is some happy melting pot

where we can all just...

Like, that's bullshit.

I came here when I was nine years old. I'm 40.

I still have this feeling of "I'm not in the right place."

And then I realize, uh, it's kinda smoke and mirrors

because my trans son, who was born here,

is not just being questioned, uh, with his rights and everything.

His humanity is being questioned.

My son came out, and I didn't know anything from anything,

but I knew one of my fraternity brothers was a pediatric psychiatrist,

and so I talked to him, and he was just like, "Frat...

people aren't gonna tell you this, people aren't gonna talk to you like this,

but I'm gonna tell you this right now,

if we was in my house, that shit wouldn't be going down."

I had a therapist in the very beginning, when we didn't even understand,

tell us that my profession wasn't, um, masculine enough.

The life-changing moment was meeting Wayne.

Being able to talk to another parent, particularly another father.

My biggest regret is how I pushed back on my daughter,

tried to get her to wear different clothes.

It's a guilt I'll probably carry with me for the rest of my life.

I took it as... "I'm not engaging my child enough."

And so I pushed really hard.

"We're gonna throw the pigskin."

We had been fighting for so long

what we already knew.

The tipping point was Christmas.

My daughter didn't get anything she wanted.

She got all stereotypical boys', uh, things, boys' clothes.

The next year, she just wanted Santa to turn her into a girl.

When my son first told me that he felt like he was a boy,

I was confused because I was by myself.

I didn't have my wife,