At 55, Lexie Matheson decided to deny her identity no longer and begin transitioning, only to meet the love of her life, who wanted to have a baby. Lexie and son Finn tell us about an unconventional family life that bred an international athlete with Olympic dreams.
When Finn Matheson was a toddler, he devised a linguistic workaround to avoid confusing his two mums. “I said, okay, you’re Mum, and you’re Mumsy,” he recalls. “It’s just kind of stuck.” These days, the 22-year-old international archer and karate black belt occasionally swaps in “Lexie” for Mumsy, “especially if she’s having a bit of a Deaf moment,” he jokes, but the sentiment holds. His family, unconventional by mainstream standards, is built on precision, love, and a deep sense of mutual respect.
Lexie Matheson, Finn’s biological parent and a trans woman, came out and began her transition at 55, the same year she met Cushla, a theatre-maker 30 years her junior. “I thought I’d live the rest of my life alone,” Lexie tells me. “But of course, the universe had other plans.” The pair married and, on their wedding night, conceived Finn. “We wanted to be parents. And we agreed we’d stick together through anything.”
That resolve has seen them through decades of love, parenting, and navigating visibility as a queer family in Aotearoa. For Finn, growing up with two mums, one trans, never felt particularly unusual. “Other kids would ask, ‘What’s it like not having a dad?’” he says. “And I’d just say, ‘I don’t know. I’ve always had two mums. They love me. It’s never been a big deal.’”
There were challenges, of course. “I got teased a bit, but never really about my family,” Finn explains. “It was more typical kid stuff. And honestly, I think being raised in a rainbow family gave me a stronger sense of acceptance, of others and of myself.” One early experience stands out: a classmate who initially joined in on teasing suddenly shifted gears. “He found out I had two mums, turns out, he did too. From that day, he always stood up for me. We didn’t even talk about it, but we had that understanding.”
Lexie, an educator for over 60 years, had concerns about sending Finn into a school system that wasn’t always kind to kids who stood out. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy,” she says. “We were visible. You can’t exactly hide a trans woman and a lesbian mum at parents’ night.” But when four-year-old Finn toured local schools and picked King’s in Remuera, “because it had the best outdoor playground” – the family leaned in.
“We expected judgment,” Lexie says. “Instead, the headmaster just sat down and played blocks with Finn. Two days later, we got a letter saying they wanted him. They saw him for who he was, and that made all the difference.”
What emerged was a boy with a love of movement, discipline, and excellence. “He woke up one morning when he was five and said, ‘I’m a ninja. Ninjas don’t sleep, we just rest our eyes,’” Lexie recalls. Cushla found a local karate club called The Brat Pack, and the rest is martial arts history. Finn trained hard, eventually earning his black belt, and remains dedicated to karate today, though archery has taken centre stage.
Finn began archery in Year 7 and, over the last decade, has quietly become one of the best in the region. “It’s a sport with no ambiguity,” he says. “In karate, points can be debated. In archery, you either hit the target or you don’t. I like that clarity.” At the 2023 Oceania Championships, Finn competed in the open men’s division, no longer classed as a youth, and took home one of each medal. “I got bronze in ranking, silver in individual match play, and our team won gold. The guy who beat me for gold? An Olympic bronze medallist. So yeah, I was pretty stoked.”
Finn was longlisted to represent New Zealand at both of the last two Olympics, an achievement Lexie is wildly proud of. “He’s brilliant at it,” she beams. “Junior World Champion, World Youth Championships, four Hyundai World Cups… I’m so proud. And all from this kid who picked his primary school for the playground.”
Lexie herself has donned the silver fern as a team manager and competed in three world karate championships, but her experiences in sport haven’t always been inclusive. “Karate welcomed me,” she says. “At one national camp, they tried to make me bunk with the men. The women stood up and said, ‘She bunks with us.’ That was massive, especially in a sport so hierarchical.”
Archery, by contrast, has been tougher. “It’s full of misogyny, and wherever there’s misogyny, there’s homophobia and transphobia too,” she says. “The rules on inclusion exist, they just get ignored.” Internationally, the outlook is mixed. “If Finn makes the Olympics, I won’t be able to go unless the US changes its anti-trans policies. I’m not welcome there, all my documentation is marked F.” The irony is bitter: a parent devoted to sport and family, banned from the very arena her child may rise in. “Meanwhile, we travel through the Middle East and they treat me with dignity and respect, go figure!”
Through all this, Lexie and Cushla have held to one principle: it’s Finn’s life, and he calls the shots. “Our job is to support him, guide him when needed, and love him unconditionally,” Lexie says. “That’s what parenting is.”
But parenting as a rainbow family still comes with added layers. Lexie’s advice for queer parents is rooted in both strategy and heart. “Be visible,” she says. “Don’t let shame dictate who shows up at school events. That visibility empowers your kid. And find allies, other parents, teachers, who get it.”
Her second piece of advice? Get your kid some martial arts training. “A black belt never hurts,” she deadpans.
Finn agrees. His advice for the next generation of rainbow kids? “Be unapologetically yourself. Even if it takes time, you’ll find your people.”
Lexie and Cushla also made a point of nurturing communication at home. “Finn could be monosyllabic at dinner,” she laughs, “but bathtime? We had our best chats then, about life, science, the universe.”
Lexie knows some rainbow couples who fear they’re too old to have kids. Her response? “First and foremost, nothing beats being a parent. If you decide to do it, live every moment. Hug relentlessly. Love shamelessly. And talk, talk, talk.”
She and Cushla made a promise early on: no matter what, they wouldn’t break up. “We’d find a way to talk it through. And we have. Our marriage is like anyone else’s, hard at times, joyful at others. But we never lost sight of the why.”
Their journey is part love story, part survival manual, and part open letter to the future. A celebration of what’s possible when queer families raise kids with intention, honesty, and karate-level determination. Whether or not Finn makes it to LA 2028, the legacy of this remarkable family is already gold.
