In this first-person account facilitated by Avantika Krishna and narrated to The Better India, Meghna Kulkarni, a teacher with two decades of experience, reflects on raising her queer, neurodivergent children, the fears she had to unlearn, and how she and her spouse Prasanna found their way to acceptance as rainbow parents.
When I held my newborns for the first time, I felt the joy that parents often describe as unlike any other. My first child is Shreesh. My second is Rit. At the time, I understood one child as my daughter and the other as my son.
Today, I understand my children differently. The love remains exactly the same. What has changed is my understanding of who they are and what it means to truly accept them.
The lessons that came before parenting
Looking back, I realise that the signs were always there, long before I became a parent. The universe seemed to be preparing me in ways I understood only much later. I grew up helping care for my younger brother, Vaibhav, who is 12 years younger than me.
Later, I became closely involved in the upbringing of my distant cousin Devdutt, who has Down syndrome. Those experiences made me more attentive to difference and individuality.
Before I became a parent, I became a teacher. Teaching taught me that every child arrives in the world as a complete individual, and not as a project to be moulded. My children came later, but that lesson stayed with me.
When Shreesh and Rit were growing up, my spouse Prasanna and I tried to raise them as independent individuals. We did not always get it right, but we tried to listen to who they were rather than who we expected them to become.
Shreesh and Rit, Meghna’s children, navigate their identities as transfeminine/non-binary and transmasculine/non-binary respectively
The two children were very different from each other. Shreesh was an overachiever, intellectually curious and deeply focused, but often struggled with emotional expression. Rit was sensitive, expressive, creative, and always asking questions about the world around him.
Both experienced what it meant to feel different. Rit faced bullying and othering during school. Both children were navigating the world as neurodivergent young people long before any of us fully understood that reality.
At the time, I simply knew that they experienced the world differently. I did not yet have the language for autism, ADHD, sensory overload, masking, or the exhaustion that comes from constantly trying to fit into environments that are not designed for you.
When Rit and Shreesh came out
The first disclosure came from Rit. In 2019, when he was in Class 10, he told me he had been questioning his identity. Initially, I misunderstood. I thought we were having a philosophical conversation.
Instead, we found ourselves talking about sexuality, attraction, and identity. Rit introduced me to resources, stories, and communities that helped me understand experiences I had never encountered before. From 2019 to 2022, as he navigated his identity, he eventually told me he was non-binary and transmasculine.
Rit faced challenges at school, including instances of bullying and misunderstanding, while the family stood firmly in support of their identity. Shreesh, on the other hand, came out at age 21, leading to conversations with parents about masking, authenticity, and self-acceptance.
My immediate response was fear, rather than rejection. I was not worried about what my family would think. I worried about the world. I worried that society would not make space for someone as talented, thoughtful, and creative as my child.
Around this time, Rit also faced a telling moment at school. During a parent-teacher meeting, his grade teacher told us that Rit was always with the boys and asked us, as parents, to discipline him. We stood by Rit firmly and told the teacher that we found nothing wrong with his behaviour.
Shreesh came out as transfeminine and non-binary to me in 2021, at 21. Her preferred pronouns are she/they. My reaction was different from how I had responded to Rit. I wish I could say I handled it perfectly, but I did not.
My first response was disbelief. As parents, we often carry stories about our children in our minds. Shreesh was my firstborn. I had imagined a certain future for them without even realising I had done so. Part of me wondered whether it was a phase. Part of me went silent.
But when she and I had a heart-to-heart conversation, I saw her truth and accepted her wholeheartedly. She revealed to me how burdensome it had felt to carry on masking her real self. That changed me.
Looking back, I realise that silence can communicate uncertainty even when love remains unchanged. That is one of the mistakes I carry with me. If I had understood more about the loneliness, confusion, and vulnerability that often accompany self-discovery, I would have offered more reassurance and less hesitation.
Since then, I have learned that acceptance is a practice we return to again and again.
Learning a new language of love
Around the same time, we were also learning to understand neurodivergence in our family. Shreesh came to understand herself as being on the autism spectrum in 2022, while Rit was diagnosed with ADHD and dyscalculia in 2021. As we were learning a new language for neurodivergence, both of them began introducing another vocabulary: that of LGBTQIA+ identities.
Meghna and Prasanna now proudly identify as rainbow parents and advocate for acceptance, understanding, and equal rights for LGBTQIA+ youth.
It was a lot to hold. But it also brought our family closer to a more honest understanding of each other.
Pronouns were one of my earliest learning curves. Initially, using they/them felt unfamiliar. I stumbled. I made mistakes. But I also saw how much it mattered. Over time, what once felt awkward became natural.
Acceptance also meant letting go of control. In the early days after they came out, we made sure Rit and Shreesh shared their live location or cab ride details with us. Sometimes, we went to pick them up.
Today, community is the biggest support system our children have built for themselves and their friends.
As my children built friendships, communities, and chosen families, I sometimes felt hurt. I wondered why they did not always want to be at home. Eventually, I realised that this too was love. They were taking the values of care, compassion, and belonging that they had learned within our family and extending them outward into the world.
When family had questions, we chose honesty
Many Indian parents will recognise the question that hangs in the air: log kya kahenge (what will people say?) Initially, members of our extended family were confused and apprehensive, but not dismissive. We explained things to them over WhatsApp groups and also when we met in person.
Meghna Kulkarni and Prasanna navigated questions from extended family about their children’s identities with honesty and openness, building understanding and support while also educating relatives
We also know that understanding may take time for some people, and we are at peace with that.
Society will always have something to criticise. We cannot be affected by that. Parents can be the best allies to their children when they stand by them through every difficult moment.
From fear to finding a community
My partner Prasanna was taken aback when Rit came out as transmasculine. He called it unnatural and was against the whole concept. That is when we learnt about Sweekar, a multicultural network of parents of LGBTQIA+ children who stand with each other, challenge existing notions of gender and sexuality, and advocate for acceptance and equal rights.
One online panel discussion with Sweekar parents and other experts changed his mindset entirely. We joined Sweekar in June 2021.
Until then, much of our learning had happened within our family. At Sweekar, we found other parents asking similar questions, sharing similar fears, and navigating similar journeys. We found education, community, and friendship.
The family joined Sweekar, a multicultural network of parents of LGBTQIA+ children, in June 2021, finding guidance, community, and solidarity.
Most importantly, we discovered that we were not alone. Sweekar helped us unlearn old assumptions and build new understandings. We went from being parents trying to understand our own children to advocates who could support other families as well.
Today, my partner and I proudly identify as rainbow parents.
What my children taught me
They taught me that gender is more expansive than I once believed. They taught me that neurodivergence asks for understanding rather than fixing. They taught me that a chosen family is just as real as a biological family. They taught me that authenticity requires courage.
Most of all, they taught me that parenting means creating the conditions in which children can become themselves.
For parents who may be beginning a similar journey, my message is simple: when your child shares something deeply personal with you, recognise it for what it is. It is an act of trust. They are inviting you into their inner world.
You do not need to have all the answers immediately. You only need to be willing to listen, learn, and stay connected.
Be the sun. Offer warmth, safety, and light without asking your children to shrink who they are.
And then watch your children bloom into who they truly are: vibrant, complex, resilient, and entirely their own.
