WHO THIS IS FOR

This lesson is for every parent of a teenager — but especially for parents walking on eggshells around a child who is gender-questioning, trans-identified, or emotionally volatile. If you feel like anything you say is wrong, if your child shuts down the moment you show curiosity about their life, if you’re caught between wanting to reach them and being afraid that reaching will push them further away — this is your lesson. It’s also for parents who have been told to “just be there” for their child but don’t know what that actually looks like when “being there” gets you an icy stare. If your child seems to simultaneously crave your attention and reject your attention, and you feel like you can’t win no matter what you do, this lesson explains why — and what to do about it.

SUMMARY OF KEY POINTS

• All humans want to feel seen but not scrutinized. This is a universal desire for connection without evaluation.

• Teenagers experience this paradox at an amplified intensity: they have a heightened need to be seen AND a heightened fear of being scrutinized.

• When the parent-child relationship is strained, even benign questions register as scrutiny.

• Trans ideology is the extreme expression of this paradox: “See me — but only as I demand to be seen.”

• Parents are often trapped in a double bind: if they notice too much, they’re scrutinizing; if they don’t notice enough, they’re neglecting.

• The child is usually not conscious of this contradiction, which makes it impossible to resolve through logic.

• The skill parents need to develop is making observations that land as complimentary rather than evaluative.

• “You seem...” statements are low-risk openings that can be easily retracted if they don’t land well.

• Parents should practice this skill in lower-stakes relationships first before applying it with their child.

ARTICLE

There’s a phrase I’ve been using in my coaching work that I think captures one of the most important dynamics in the parent-teenager relationship, and especially in families dealing with gender identity issues. The phrase is: seen but not scrutinized.

We all want to feel seen. We want the people in our lives to notice us — to pay attention, to care, to be aware of what we’re going through. But we don’t want to feel scrutinized. We don’t want to feel like we’re under a microscope, being evaluated, judged, or picked apart.

In mature adult relationships, this balance isn’t that hard to maintain. Your friend notices you seem stressed and says, “Rough day?” That feels good — you feel seen. Your friend does not then say, “You’ve been stressed a lot lately. Are you sleeping enough? Have you considered therapy? You really should exercise more.” That feels like scrutiny.

But here’s the thing about teenagers: they experience both sides of this equation at a dramatically amplified intensity. A teenager has a much more intense need to be seen than the average adult, because they’re drowning in big feelings they don’t know how to process. And simultaneously, they have a much more neurotic fear of being scrutinized, because their ego is fragile, their identity is under construction, and they are exquisitely sensitive to anything that feels like judgment.

So you get this impossible situation where the teenager is essentially saying: See me. But don’t notice anything about me. See me exactly the way I want to be seen. And the moment you get it wrong — the moment your attention crosses from “seen” to “scrutinized” — they shut down, lash out, or withdraw.

Now, layer trans ideology on top of this, and you get the most extreme version of the paradox: See me as the opposite sex. This is seen-but-not-scrutinized taken to its logical extreme. The demand is not just “see me” — it’s “see me as someone I’m not, and don’t you dare look closely enough to notice the contradiction.” It’s a demand for validation that can only be maintained by prohibiting observation.

I want parents to understand this because it changes how you approach your child. If you’re operating under the assumption that your child either wants your attention or doesn’t want your attention, you’re going to keep getting it wrong. The truth is: they want both and neither, simultaneously, and they are not aware of the contradiction. They are not sitting in their room thinking, “Gee, I have a paradoxical relationship with being seen.” They’re just reacting. And their reactions create a double bind for you.

If you ask about their day, you’re scrutinizing. If you don’t ask about their day, you don’t care. If you comment on their appearance, you’re policing them. If you don’t comment on their appearance, you’re not paying attention. You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

So how do you thread this needle?

First, understand that you may not be able to perfectly thread it. Sometimes there’s no right move. But what you can do is shift your approach from questions and evaluations to observations and reflections — and frame those observations in a way that feels complimentary rather than investigative.

Here’s what I mean. “How was your day?” is a question. It demands a response. It puts the child in the position of having to perform, to give an account of themselves. For a teenager who’s already on edge, that’s scrutiny.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood” is an observation. It communicates: I’m paying attention. I noticed something positive about you. And it doesn’t require anything from them. If they want to expand on it, they can. If they don’t, you can simply move on. And if it doesn’t land — if they snap, “I’m not in a good mood” — you have an easy exit: “Oh, sorry, I misread that.”

The beauty of “You seem...” statements is that they’re low-risk. You’re not claiming to know something. You’re not asking them to reveal something. You’re just sharing an impression. And if the impression is wrong, no harm done — you were just making a guess.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this takes practice. One of the parents I work with described herself as someone who is “lost for words” in moments with her stepdaughter — who defaults to either barreling past uncomfortable moments or retreating into silence. And I told her: that’s exactly why we need to build this muscle. You don’t start by trying to have the perfect exchange with the child who triggers all your anxiety. You start by practicing with your friends. With your coworkers. With the cashier at the grocery store.

I think of this as a graduated exposure. Your child might be level ten difficulty. Your close friends are level one. If you can practice making observations — “You seem like you’re carrying a lot today,” “You look excited about something” — with people who are easy to be around, you build the neurological pathway. It becomes more automatic. And then when you’re in the kitchen with your teenager and they walk in with a look on their face, your brain has something to draw on other than blank panic.

I want to address something specific for parents of trans-identified kids. Many of you are in a situation where the only time your child shows strong emotion toward you is when pronouns come up or when something related to their trans identity is triggered. Outside of that, it’s polite distance. And the polite distance feels safe enough that you don’t want to rock the boat. So you pretend you didn’t see the hostile look. You barrel past the moment. You keep things surface-level.

I understand that instinct, but I want to challenge it. Because what’s happening in that dynamic is that you’re communicating something to your child: I can’t handle what you’re feeling. Your emotions are too much for me. And even though you’re doing it to keep the peace, your child is learning: My parent can only be around me when I’m performing okayness.

What if instead, the next time you saw that look — the icy glare after you said “she” instead of “he” — you said, “I see that look. I know I upset you. Can we talk about this?” You’re naming what’s happening. You’re not pretending. And you’re inviting them into a real moment.

Will they take you up on it? Maybe not. Probably not, the first time. But you’ve communicated something different: I can see you. I’m not afraid of what I see. And the door is open.

That’s what it means to help someone feel seen without feeling scrutinized. You’re not interrogating. You’re not evaluating. You’re just present, noticing, and brave enough to say what you notice — in a way that communicates warmth rather than judgment.

The skills I’m describing — making observations, reflecting what you see, framing things in complimentary terms, backing off gracefully when something doesn’t land — these are the same skills therapists use every day. I spent years in a therapy room where a huge part of my job was to say back to someone what they just told me, and have them go, “Wow, I never thought about it that way.” And I’d think: I just told you what you said. But I said it slightly differently. That slight difference is the art. It’s naming what’s in the room without making the person feel exposed. It’s holding up a mirror at just the right angle.

You can learn to do this. It’s not magic. It’s practice. And the person who benefits most will be the child who desperately wants to be seen by you — even though every signal they’re sending says otherwise.

© ROGD Repair with Stephanie Winn

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