tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27536405496596645392024-03-13T11:32:15.143-07:00Dangling Possibilitiesparenting a transgender child, and three other kids to boot.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-48850216834470068652013-07-12T07:15:00.001-07:002013-07-12T07:15:12.176-07:00Hey there international readers!Just a greeting to all my readers abroad. I hope you are getting the support and resources you need from your families. On the sidebar is a link to Yahoo Groups. If you enroll in a Yahoo account you can join the group and discuss issues with other parents online. You are not alone.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-17412233672645562692013-07-07T11:42:00.003-07:002013-07-10T14:49:18.747-07:00Transparency in parenting a transgender child<div style="font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">
Janet, 14, keeps hoping nobody will know she's transgender. I roll my eyes but also wring my hands when she tells me this. I mean, please, she changed her name and pronouns three quarters into her year as a third grader. Almost everybody in town knows.</div>
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Yet when she entered middle school she held on to her false hopes that the new crop of classmates somehow wouldn't discover her secret. When each new friend pulled away in a matter of days it proved her wrong. It's hard to make friends when you're social suicide. Luckily she has a few buddies made of sterner stuff. Alas, staying under the radar has not turned out to be an option.</div>
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Assigned male at birth, Janet has bravely taken the steps to align herself with the girl she truly is. Intrepid in her path to womanhood, she yearns to blend in. Luckily, she does so to strangers, but not in our community. I've been hoping she'll move on, that she'll learn to announce that she's trans with pride. I am who I am and to heck with the rest of you! That kind of confidence can attract people to you. Without a doubt she serves as a role model to some children in this town lingering in the shadows. It's too bad she can't see herself that way.</div>
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Yet, the other day I was getting to know a trainer at my new job. He told me that he was a family man, held down a job, and deejayed on the side. All three made up who he was. I countered by claiming the first two and smilingly added that I'm a writer and an artist. I want others to know I pursue a path that speaks to my soul, but when asked what I wrote about I faltered. "Er, um, well, let's just say I once caused a scandal in my suburban town." Why didn't I elaborate? Why did I elude to being controversial but shy from the reason? </div>
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Am I ashamed? No. I'm pretty sure I rock for being such a supportive mom. In town I don't really care what people who know me think. I didn't lose friends when Janet transitioned. I even received a few letters of support from neighbors and acquaintances. Mulling it over I have stumbled upon my motives.</div>
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Here's my dirty little secret—<i>I </i>don't want people to know <i>either</i>. Proud of my writing, proud of my daughter, but afraid.</div>
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Now I've got to admit the worst part. It's because I'm afraid new acquaintances won't like me. I'm afraid they'll judge me and treat me differently. Seriously, at 49? To be honest I was hoping I'd be more evolved by this age. Sure I can write about it to a bunch of strangers, but in person?</div>
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So I've started trying to be a better role model.</div>
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Recently I pulled up in my company car to pick up a driver's ed student. Once on the road, trying to make him at ease I started on some small talk. Given his foreign sounding name I asked him about his ethnicity. "I'm mostly Turkish," he admitted, "Actually I'm Muslim but I rarely tell people." (On an aside, the diversity in my community ranges mostly from Irish Catholic to Italian Catholic.)</div>
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Wow! So cool he felt comfortable telling me. It gave me some courage. I told him my middleschooler gets bullied, which in itself is not exactly mind blowing. Then I added, "She's gender variant." Boy was I surprised when he came out with, "If you don't mind me asking, is she transgender?" It turns out a transgender woman had recently spoken in his biology class. He was fascinated. We ended up having a great conversation, not only about transgender issues but also about hiding ourselves.</div>
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I can't wait to try it again. </div>
Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-74947710996127507012012-04-11T08:23:00.000-07:002012-04-11T08:24:04.951-07:00Freedom of expression for our kiddosHey families out there! <a href="http://www.camparanutiq.org/home.html" target="_blank">Camp Aranu'tiq</a> still has openings. Camp Aranu'tiq is a weeklong, overnight camp for transgender and gender-variant youth ages 8 through 15 based in both New England and the West Coast. It's a place where life experiences are shared and lifelong friendships are made.<br />
<br />
When Janet's middle school classmates are less than understanding, and she claims she has no friends, I remind her of all her friends across the country who she can skype with, chat and share notes on Facebook. She does, indeed have many friends from camp. How fortunate!!<br />
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Thanks, Nick!!<br />
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<br />Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-32235990535249302482012-03-07T09:38:00.004-08:002012-03-07T09:42:53.497-08:00My story about ChinaA year after Janet had been home, her little brother wrote this essay for school:<br />
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One day, I said to my mom, "I'm bored. I have no one to play with." Then my mom looked on the computer for children to adopt. We found a boy named T.R. We decided to adopt him. My mom came and my dad came, so did I. We stayed in China for two weeks. We went in a lot of hotels. In one hotel there was a buffet. About on the third day we got him. He liked girl stuff like princess stuff. It turned out that he was a girl. I was O.K. about that.<br />
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Anyway, when we were at one of the hotels, we played "jumping on the beds switch." That is when we each jump on different beds and say, "Jumping on the beds...switch!" When we say "switch" then we stop jumping on one bed and jump to the other bed and start jumping. That was a lot of fun. While we were in China, we always went to Chinese food places. When we finally got home, we showed her our LEGOs. That is my story about China.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-38839238801054966272012-01-24T18:46:00.000-08:002012-01-24T18:46:33.200-08:00Building happy, healthy familiesTransYouth Family envisions a society free of suicide and violence in which <i>all</i> children are respected and celebrated.<br />
<br />
Our family couldn't have done it without TYFA. If you haven't reached out to them yet, then do so. They provide services free of charge for every single family. <br />
<br />
They are reaching out to <i>us</i> now to ask for support so they can reach the families and educators that need them, and educate the public and media. <a a0ca6ca0012="true" href="http://imatyfa.org/permanent_files/contribute.html" target="_blank">Click here</a>. Or here: <a a0ca6ca0012="true" href="http://imatyfa.org/permanent_files/contribute.html" target="_blank">http://imatyfa.org/permanent_files/contribute.html</a><br />
<br />
Thank you!Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-74543267124086173932012-01-20T21:01:00.000-08:002012-01-20T21:01:09.790-08:00Kudos to the New York Times!<a h21a9eceba4f="true" href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/20/opinion/the-meaning-of-scouting.html?_r=1&emc=tnt&tntemail1=y">The Meaning of Scouting</a>Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-58770341440957340512012-01-12T08:11:00.000-08:002012-01-23T09:45:56.799-08:00Transgender Girl Scouts, Oh My!<div class="pbody" id="pbody">If you're trans and you see a skinny Girl Scout, run!<br />
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Last fall a girl scout troop, after controversy, <a a5ac344e83630ab6047="true" dc741a33d549fe3e287="true" href="http://www.glaad.org/blog/girl-scouts-colorado-released-statement-welcoming-transgender-youth">welcomed a seven year old transgender girl to their troop.</a> Now, Taylor, a teen girl scout has <a a5ac344e83630ab6047="true" dc741a33d549fe3e287="true" href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/01/11/girl-scout-cookie-boycott-transgender_n_1199260.html">launched a campaign</a> to protest by refusing to buy Girl Scout Cookies. <br />
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To be honest I haven't listened to much of her video. I know, I'd make a stupid reporter. Guess that's why I'm a blogger. As a mom of a transgender girl who faces discrimination every day, I can't listen. How can people advocate isolating these brave children who assert their identities despite often tremendous opposition, even revulsion? Just the other day Ruthie told me that often in her classes teachers ask their students to choose a partner and that she never gets picked. Poor thing, she wasn't even sobbing like she might have done a year ago; such treatment has become old hat. <br />
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It boils down to this: people are inclined to have opinions about things they know nothing about. Think about it, you are, too. One day I'll tell you I'm sure we should get out of Afghanistan, and the next I hear an Afghan man being interviewed begging us to stay. Sure, I'm an advocate for peace on earth, but what do I really know about the situation in Afghanistan? (I don't even know how to define a person from Afghanistan. Afghani? Spell check didn't like that one.) <br />
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Let's make a New Year's Resolution to step back from strong opinions based on no knowledge, to ask some questions without judging, to be open to learning. You can bet Taylor has never read anything explaining transgender identity in children. I'd send her first to <a a5ac344e83630ab6047="true" dc741a33d549fe3e287="true" href="http://www.imatyfa.org/foryouth/index.html">TransYouth Family Allies</a>. <br />
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Meanwhile, try on Plato for size:<br />
<blockquote><b>As for me, all I know is that I know nothing</b>. <i><a a5ac344e83630ab6047="true" dc741a33d549fe3e287="true" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Republic_%28Plato%29">Republic</a></i>, 354c, <br />
(conclusion of book I)</blockquote>And, if we live by one tenet, it should be: <b> </b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><b>Be compassionate</b>.</blockquote>And if we live by two, let's follow the Girl Scout Law: <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><b>The Girl Scout Law</b> <br />
<i></i></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>I will do my best to be </i>honest and fair,<br />
friendly and helpful,<br />
considerate and caring,<br />
courageous and strong, and<br />
responsible for what I say and do,</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>and to </i>respect authority,<br />
use resources wisely,<br />
make the world a better place, and<br />
be a sister to <b><i>every</i></b> Girl Scout.</blockquote> Oh, and third, <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq"><b>Buy lots of Girl Scout Cookies!!!</b></blockquote></div>Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-88078788731665567372011-09-07T13:31:00.000-07:002011-09-07T17:59:17.625-07:00Who cares?A lot of people apparently.<br />
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We're standing in line at Toys 'R Us. My affirmed daughter is buying a big pink meanie--a Lots-o-Huggin' Bear. Why the bear is popular I do not know as his character is a grumpy traitor on Toy Story 3. In front of us in the check-out line is a man with two little girls sitting in a shopping cart full of toy trucks. "My daughters both love trucks, can you believe it?" I answer simply, "Yes."<br />
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A few days later I am at an arboretum. It's full of tree houses and one has a chest with dress-ups inside. A woman is there with two young children, an older girl and a maybe four-year-old boy. He is wearing a knight's chest armor and a pink ballet tutu. "He doesn't <i>usually</i> dress like this," she hurries to say apologetically. "Why would that matter?" I ask. <br />
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At my boss's house her visiting cousin jeered at his 6 year-old son who was doing cartwheels, "What? Do you wanna be a cheerleader when you grow up?" He repeated similar comments for a few minutes in vein, clearly angry that his son might enjoy doing whatever he felt was fun. (Presumably he should enjoy whatever his dad thought was fun?)<br />
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It's people around us and it's the media, too. Many were in an uproar when J. Crew's President and Creative Director Jenna Lyons sent out an email ad of her <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/video/jcrew-ads-ignite-gender-identity-controversy-13363927" target="external">painting her son's toenails hot pink</a>. "Lucky for me I ended up with a son whose favorite color is pink." The ad was trying to be inclusive but people across the country were upset about what they labeled her aberrant behavior. Clearly many people across the country think pink is contagious and will make our sons gay.<br />
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On the other hand, the characters on Seinfeld hurry to qualify when they deny to a reporter they're gay, "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZPcGapl2dM&feature=related">Not that there's anything <i>wrong </i>with that!</a>" Yet when Jerry's father reads the article about his son and believes it, he yells at his wife, "It's those <i>damn</i> culottes you made him wear when he was five....looked like he was wearing a <i>skirt</i> for crying out loud!"<br />
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The latest <a href="http://www.salon.com/entertainment/tv/feature/2011/08/10/tide_advertising">bizarre ad</a> for laundry detergent shows a fifties' style mother in a skirt in a pink room lamenting that her daughter wears dirty camouflage and plays with trucks. She's upset that Tide keeps her daughter's clothing clean.<br />
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I still for the life of me can't understand how our society developed such strict ideas of gender roles and why many use violence against those who step outside those roles. More tough a nut to crack is how to work towards a greater acceptance of the gender spectrum. I heard Kevin Sessums, author of <a href="http://www.mississippisissy.com/">Mississippi Sissy,</a> in an NPR interview. He said that because there are actually more gays being comfortably out in society and on TV, they are seen more, and so the haters are nastier. (Update: Janet got hit on the head with an umbrella today at school.) Now we're seeing more trans people too, such as <a href="http://chazbono.net/">Chaz Bono</a>, son of Sonny Bono and Cher, who is in the new ABC reality show <a href="http://abc.go.com/shows/dancing-with-the-stars/cast-announcement">Dancing With the Stars</a>. We talk about our families to let people know we're out there and hope we are keeping them safe by educating rather than putting them in danger.<br />
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Who cares? We all should.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-23286419219290450912011-06-09T06:27:00.000-07:002011-07-04T16:19:37.800-07:00How'd she know?Three years ago, soon after Janet had transitioned, our then 11 year-old son Connor came with us to the <a a699a82138c="true" href="http://www.trans-health.org/" je21d8b3bc722586b="true">Philadelphia Trans-Health Conference</a>. Leaving the building in his Eagles McNabb shirt he was stopped by a 50 something transwoman who, despite her elegant dress, given her build and facial features, she had clearly transitioned past her youth. She hailed him, "Hey, can you believe McNabb's on the Red Skins now?" Connor wondered, "She's a woman, how could she know so much about football?!"Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-71304962240987827832011-05-24T09:26:00.000-07:002011-06-12T19:58:59.443-07:00Gender fearsMy blog was recently found by the search terms "transgender child ruin my life." Ouch. Yet I can relate to the sentiment, at least as far as a first response to what feels like an overwhelming situation. But why? Our fears and stress in this case are primarily based on our worries about "what people will think." Let's consider this. People's reactions aren't proscribed, they are shaped by the cultural norms of society at any given location and period of time. <br />
<a name='more'></a>Imagine, if you will, a society less concerned about a binary gender, one more comfortable with a spectrum of gender behaviors. In fact perception of gender difference varies by regions around the world, and there are some communities that are more accepting than others. For example, on the website, <a href="http://genderspectrum.org/">GenderSpectrum.org</a> (which is an amazing resource, check it out!) the <i>Understanding Gender</i> page lists three such societies: <br />
<blockquote>The <i>calabai</i> and <i>calalai</i> of Indonesia, two-spirit Native Americans, and the <i>hijra</i> of India all represent more complex understandings of gender than the simplistic model seen in the west.</blockquote>Even Iran sanctions gender reassignment surgery (if not homosexuality.) If we step back and think of children expressing any aspect of their identity, without taking into account societal norms, there is only joy in it. (Since I first posted I have found a link to a fascinating map linked to a film project called <a href="http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/two-spirits/map.html">Two Spirits/A Map of Gender-Diversity</a>.)<br />
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While our life <i>has</i> been thrown in turmoil, with the adoption, handling an ADHD child, and gender identity, ultimately <i>we</i> are responsible for how we respond to any given stress. A child can't ruin your life, but you can <i>choose</i> to be in misery by responding only with distress to their situations, by not endeavoring to move on from your initial anxieties. When thoughts of self-pity wiggle into my conscience I remember a parent of a 7 year old I saw at the beach when my children were only 10 months old. Her child was ready to have a tantrum and the mother said, "This is one of those times when you can choose your mood." The child, surprisingly, moved on. It was way more fun to be happy then to be upset by sand stuck to her legs. <br />
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Final thoughts:<br />
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<b>On Children</b><br />
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Lyrics by Khalil Gibran, Music by Ysaye M. Barnwell<br />
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<a href="http://www.ritualwell.org/lifecycles/babieschildren/babynamingsimchatbat/sitefolder.2005-06-07.5117027380/file.2005-06-30.7919514616">Your children are not your children</a><br />
They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself<br />
They come through you but they are not from you and though they are with you<br />
They belong not to you<br />
You can give them your love but not your thoughts<br />
They have their own thoughts<br />
You can house their bodies but not their souls<br />
For their souls dwell in a place of tomorrow<br />
Which you cannot visit not even in your dreams<br />
You can strive to be like them<br />
But you cannot make them just like you<br />
Strive to be like them<br />
But you cannot make them just like you<br />
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Also, here's a great article about how one school taught children gender diversity in animals and humans:<br />
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<a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=%2Fc%2Fa%2F2011%2F05%2F24%2FBAI51JJQ35.DTL&tsp=1">Redwood Heights gender lesson engenders dissent </a>Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-86801438199407074662011-05-20T05:47:00.001-07:002011-05-26T09:16:24.943-07:00Questions or subject requestsHi everybody. I've had some new viewers recently, so, does anybody have any topics, or life stories regarding Janet, that you'd like me to cover? Does anybody have any questions you'd like me to answer?<br />
All can be answered anonymously. Click "comment" but I filter first, and will not post them.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-55010105970943499212011-05-16T12:47:00.000-07:002011-05-26T09:15:00.665-07:00How the pool spoiled the spaIt's not every day I get to go to a spa. Few things can be better than a spa weekend in the Catskills with a childhood friend. From yoga and cardio, facials and massages, then steam room and sauna we had it all, not to mention delicious, healthful food. I should have returned home glowing, and I did, for about three minutes. Then I picked up the mail.<br />
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Maybe the registered letter was a paycheck--I've recently started two part time jobs. No such luck. I opened it and started shaking. I had instead received a reprimand from the director of the private pool we belong to. He had scheduled an appointment to which I responded, asking for the proposed agenda. Not hearing back, I never showed. As it turns out the agenda was the locker rooms.<br />
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Two years ago he demanded that each time Janet visit the toilet/locker room we would have to approach the manager on duty who would escort us, empty the room, then stand guard while our business was done. I flatly refused. When we attempted to use the bathroom for the first time after his requirements, entering was no big deal. When we exited, sure enough a sheepish young manager stood guarding the room. I was furious. Clearly somebody had been appointed to watch our every movement and follow us if we ventured into the bathroom. But my anger soon abated since it turned out nobody bothered us again. Until yesterday.<br />
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The registered letter asked that we honor the 2009 agreement to inform a manager to use the bathroom in order to offer us "safety and privacy" as well as assure the "safety and privacy" of other club members. I don't even know where to start. One might suggest we use a family-style changing room, but in this case there is none, not even a staff bathroom. Furthermore, this avoids the question of why it would be necessary in the first place. Here's why his proposal stinks:<br />
<ol><li>Janet is more at risk if she has to be escorted to the bathroom virtually ensuring that she receive unwanted attention. Being singled out is never a safe proposal for a transgender individual.</li>
<li>Privacy is not an issue with the bathroom as each toilet has a door. Any of you women out there <i>ever</i> accidentally see someone's genitals in the bathroom? <i>Ever?</i> </li>
<li>Privacy is not an issue as far as Janet's body. She is more than anxious to keep her body private and would <i>always</i> use a stall.</li>
<li>Privacy is not an issue for those who change in stalls.</li>
<li>Privacy is not really an issue for someone who chooses to undress without a stall. Clearly that person already doesn't care about privacy. (Although I have never seen anybody undress publicly at the pool, reportedly some older patrons are more carefree.)</li>
<li>What about Janet? Isn't she tricking the imaginary carefree undresser by masquerading as a female? Well, no, since she identifies as a girl, although this may be misunderstood by the uneducated. </li>
<li>Does her penis present a threat to others? How so? If so, it is only fair that a genital check be administered at the door to make sure that everybody's genitals--including those of intersex individuals--match their locker room choice. Intersex individuals are not uncommon comprising a similar proportion of the population as redheads. </li>
<li>What is the risk of Janet seeing the carefree dresser? I can only surmise that the pool director imagines that Janet, having a male body, might be sexually attracted to the elderly carefree dresser. (Huh?) This idea assumes that gender identity has anything to do with gender preference. It then leads to the question: should pool members be screened for gender preference and then be directed to the opposite locker room? How would this be implemented? We have to assume that lesbians use the womens' room and gays use the men's room on a regular basis. Is this against pool rules and would these rules be tolerated by the public?</li>
<li>Is Janet a danger as a sexual deviant? Well, no, because she's a 12 year old girl. Besides which, gender identity has nothing to do with sexual deviancy. </li>
</ol>I hope all this speculation will be moot. I wrote a brief letter to the director enclosing a copy of Janet's birth certificate which identifies her as a female. It said, among other thins, "As for my daughter there seems to be a misunderstanding. Per the attached copy, she is a girl. I trust there will be no further inquiries into this matter."<br />
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Another day in my life as a mom of a transgender child. But, hey, I might have a title to my next book, "The Carefree Dresser." I like it.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-14080141664655490712011-05-10T11:45:00.000-07:002011-05-26T19:32:11.783-07:00I'm no expert...I may know more than the Average Joe about transgender issues, but being a part of an LGBTQ family doesn't make me the perfect role model on sensitivity. <br />
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Long ago I'd written a <a href="http://danglingpossibilities.blogspot.com/2010/10/dress-for-success.html">post about wearing a dress</a>. I started with the quote: <br />
<blockquote style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Just around the corner in every woman's mind - is a lovely dress, a wonderful suit, or entire costume which will make an enchanting new creature of her.</i> <br />
~Wilhela Cushman</span> </blockquote>I received a comment from a <span style="font-size: small;">woman </span>chastising me for placing women into such a constricting gender role. Was <i>she </i>not a woman just because she didn't like dresses? Of course she was. Then again, had she read more closely the quote continues to say "a wonderful suit...or...costume." Still, her point was that I of all people, being a mom of a trans girl, should have known better.<br />
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I don't. To this day I don't entirely get cross-dressing as a sport, yet cross-dressing falls into the category of "gender variant." It's not that I think it's wrong, I just personally don't want to go to a party, for the sole purpose of seeing drag queens strut around. <br />
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One of the first indications that I was off course in understanding gender roles was my new expectations of Janet right after she transitioned socially. I became more scared of letting her walk around town on her own. I cared more about how others thought she appeared, whether her clothes matched or were "in." She would wear her knee socks with shorts or skirts which none of the other girls did. Being a recent arrival to America, she wasn't really asserting a style as much as she just wasn't aware of the local trends. My mom advised that I should let peer pressure do its work: Janet could either listen to them and conform or not care and continue to wear long socks because she liked them. Meanwhile, the boys? I'd let them head out the door with their shirts on backwards.<br />
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Janet had her own distorted expectations too. Soon after she transitioned full-time as a girl her younger brother asked her to arm wrestle. She protested saying she wasn't strong enough. Never mind that she has wiry, defined muscles--more so than any of her brothers at the time--and that she'd arm-wrestled when living as a boy, she now was a girl and in her head girls weren't strong. Even after she'd won I had to show her a picture of Michelle Obama's arms to get across my point. On more than one occasion Janet would chide her brother for liking something outside the gender norm. She'd protest something like, "Boys aren't supposed to like Lady Gaga!" I'd begin my tirade, "You, of all people...!" Then again, why <i>couldn't</i> she just be a normal girl and not a LGBTQ feminist?<br />
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I cannot cure my boys of the habit of saying, "That's so gay!" when they mean "lame," let alone when they really mean "gender atypical." I cannot cure any of my children from being startled when somebody acts outside the gender norm. While two of my uncles and many of our friends out in San Francisco were gay, we have no (out) gay friends or relatives who enter our homes and our current lives. The older two are still really bothered by the idea of gay people. Knowing this, when during the Grammy's my boys said how boss one of the presenters--Neil Patrick Harris--was, I said, "You know, he's gay."<br />
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"No, mom, he's not! You've got him confused!"<br />
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I searched Harris on Google and sure enough there was a recent article about how he and his husband had just became fathers of twins. This was very upsetting for them. He was too cool to be gay. Despite our intention of raising our children to be open-minded individuals, the kids seemed to side with their peers.<br />
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Then there were the relatives. On a nice day Janet and her friends or siblings used to spend over half their time sparring with sticks. More than one relative asked me how she would ever pass, and was she really a girl based on her manic energy and proclivity for waving long spear-like weapons. Another time, after looking at early photos my mom pointed out that Janet was always delicately raising a pinky or bending her wrist. We took this as more proof she was "really a girl" until Janet told me that when she was five a friend had taught her to do that to look more girlish. <br />
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When I dropped Janet off at camp we had a brief meeting among fellow parents and camp counselors. In that touchy-feely way we went around the circle introducing ourselves and explaining our situations. The woman next to me glowed about how her whole family, her transdaughter in particular, had broadened their attitudes and were more aware and sympathetic towards gender variance and anyone considered "different." On my turn I immediately said that in our case this wasn't true.<br />
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So sue me.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-1981743368717552452011-03-25T19:25:00.000-07:002011-03-25T19:25:57.866-07:00I walked the labyrinth<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R56I6MHLGwA/TY0eJvirotI/AAAAAAAAATU/QmlvXiPQlpk/s1600/maze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="117" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R56I6MHLGwA/TY0eJvirotI/AAAAAAAAATU/QmlvXiPQlpk/s200/maze.jpg" width="200" /></a>There are those who tell us that our adoption was meant to be, that already having three sons we needed a daughter to complete our family, we just didn't know it; that we were destined to adopt Janet because she turned out to be transgender, and it would have been hard to find another family who would support her; that we can offer her the opportunities she would never experience in China, and so we ended up with her. I am not a believer. In my book fate does not exist, stuff happens. Okay I don't write books, but if I did they wouldn't endorse the concept of fate.<br />
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Call me a curmudgeon, a skeptic, or Scully (from the TV series <i>The X Files)</i>, but that is who I am.<br />
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And yet, one day I walked the labyrinth. I was taking a course based on a popular book that tries to help people overcome creative blocks. While I was inspired by the class, I was not thrilled by the superstitious concepts proposed in the book. Say I'm looking for a couch and I find a perfect one somebody left on the curb. I don't thank the gods. Serendipity is just a happy coincidence, not a message from above, nor from the universe for that matter.<br />
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<a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ujcLsVUAo4E/TY0elp6tiUI/AAAAAAAAATY/8H6--3zUdMg/s1600/Tyler%252520Arboretum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ujcLsVUAo4E/TY0elp6tiUI/AAAAAAAAATY/8H6--3zUdMg/s1600/Tyler%252520Arboretum.jpg" /></a>Still, I took my teacher up on her challenge: walk a labyrinth and find answers or enlightenment or something like that. I forget which. The labyrinth I visited is located in one of my favorite places, an arboretum which opens up into a wide expanse of meadow. Despite my skepticism, the walk became a journey of peaceful meditation. <br />
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Being designed for all ages, the labyrinth is full of short cuts so the kiddies don't get frustrated. This made staying on the right path more complicated. I started out on a path which quickly appeared as if it might be wrong. Although I was temporarily agitated, I soon realized that going the "wrong" way isn't always a bad thing. It turned I had indeed ended up on a path that was not even connected to the labyrinth, but made it back without any scratches.<br />
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The second time I was surely on the right path, yet predictably it wasn't long before I began fretting. With so many short cuts, might I stray from the path I'd finally found? The idea popped into my head that veering onto a tangent path could offer a new perspective. I stopped to look around. Remembering to breathe I took in the blue sky, green conifers, reeling raptors and yellow-beige meadow, stubby from it's spring mow.<br />
<br />
The Chinese tell a tale. A farmer's horse runs away and all his neighbors tell him what bad luck he has. "Maybe," he replies. Later his horse comes back with a mate and a foal. This time they congratulate him on his luck. "Maybe," he repeats. Within a few months his son breaks his leg falling off the new horse and again the neighbors curse his bad luck. The farmer is still skeptical. When the military scouts come to town rounding up all the young men, they leave his son behind. And the story goes on. <br />
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In the sunny meadow I was getting too warm and thought grumpily, "I <i>knew</i> I'd get hot in this extra jacket, I should have left it in the car." A moment later it dawned on me that discomfort early on--cold arms, would end in later comfort--perfect temperature, while early comfort--a warm jacket, would make me too warm farther down the walk as I got moving. My only real choices were to stay at home and be bored or to endure a little discomfort with either choice. It made me realize that I often quit when the going gets tough, or even just uncomfortable. Maybe discomfort could be taken as a given, trying to avoid it would backfire, and accepting it's inevitability would help me take it in stride.<br />
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It's hard for me to walk alone for any length of time before my inner critic berates me, "Remember when you were so dumb? You made that stupid choice and everything ended up a big mess!" This time I tried to let the words enter, scroll through my mind, then leave. A zen story came to mind. Two monks walk through a town, an elder man and a youth. A wealthy lady calls to the old monk from her palanquin. Won't he carry her across the mud so she doesn't dirty her pretty slippers? As he carries her she yells at him for walking too slowly. Next she complains he has let her down too abruptly. Without saying thank you she scurries away in a huff. The two monks leave the village, walking silently through the woods. The younger monk is fuming until he can no longer hold it in. "You helped that lady and she yelled at you and didn't even thank you! Aren't you furious?" Says the older monk, "I only carried her for a minute, you have carried her these past few hours." <br />
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Maybe I was introspective through a conscious awareness that I was supposed to be. Maybe the weaving movement of walking back and forth through the winding path shifted my mind into a different state of awareness. Maybe life is just a story we tell ourselves.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-59625393957827230602011-02-22T11:39:00.001-08:002011-02-22T11:39:59.388-08:00New theme song?<object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/sflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" width="480" height="316" id="embed" align="middle" >
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</object>Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-30621788342143032342011-02-22T10:58:00.000-08:002011-03-25T19:27:43.810-07:00Er, surprise!<i>To my regular readers this is post out of chronological order. I'm just trying to fill in a few gaps in the saga.</i><br />
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Suddenly we have a girl, she's Janet now, she's on top of the world. She frolics in a skirt at home. Hand-me downs arrive from neighbors, from those who get it--from as far away as Maine. She cuts up t-shirts to make jackets, mini-skirts, you name it. This lovely girl is blossoming, except she's still L in school, ashamed to say her name. In her class we abbreviate to a gender neutral name, but it's not enough.<br />
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How do we make the public transition?<br />
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"Surprise!"<br />
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Logic says we do so over the summer, start the new school year as a girl. How about another school in the township, even a new town? Janet only arrived from China less than a year ago; she's had so many changes and she wants to keep her new school and her new friends (whether that will actually pan out we will wait and see.) We personally would like to see her switch schools, yet really that would only postpone things. More likely than not she would bump into classmates from sports anyway, and by middle school everyone will know.<br />
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She has made her decision though, she's staying put. The question remains--when to transition publicly? We've met with the school staff, they've been trained by <a href="http://imatyfa.org/">TransYouth Family Allies</a>. The teachers are amazingly supportive, although a few are still trying to wrap their minds around it. The administration is one hundred percent behind us. They think it would be better to transition in the spring; come fall and a new school year the gossip will have died down. I'm still not convinced but these things snowball. Many a parent of a transchild figures out that you give them an inch they take a mile. "Ready or not, here I come!" the kids shout.<br />
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Whether we like it or not it's a hand-out from her music teacher that sets it all in motion: for the concert boys must wear a button down shirt and khakis, girls must wear a skirt or dress. The principal calls me, he thinks Janet should transition so she doesn't have to go through the pain of appearing in the boys section of the chorus. I'm back-pedaling, "Pain shmain, we can wait, right? I'm not sure I'm ready." Janet is though.<br />
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On a Tuesday--a school holiday--a note comes home from the school saying their children will be educated about transgender children. Wednesday is the talk with the third grade from the guidance counselor (<i>see </i><a href="http://danglingpossibilities.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-read-news-today-oh-boy.html">I read the news today, oh boy</a>.) Thursday, on concert day, I steel myself, preparing to handle comments, challenges, questions.<br />
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Normally when the principal walks on stage there is a continuing murmur in the audience as parents catch up with each other. He usually has to admonish them to quiet down two or three times, as well as between pieces when parents are leaning in to brag during solos, "That's my kid." The difference this night is that the murmur continues during the entire performance. After the concert I stand awkwardly in the hall surrounded by throngs of people. Nobody--nobody--challenges me, admonishes me, or even asks me questions. I guess they're too proper--they'll do it behind my back.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-78689266149321455502011-02-22T08:16:00.001-08:002011-02-22T08:16:24.805-08:00ApologiesNew post coming soon...Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-33990517049860582502011-01-30T20:00:00.000-08:002011-01-30T20:00:33.391-08:00To those who thinks it's a choice......or that we've been negligent parents, forcing a normal curiosity into a switch of genders, or worse, are at fault for even letting her act and dress "like a girl." Then why did my child sob all weekend by the phone, waiting for anyone to call? Who would ask for this, or push somebody into this? Each new friendship lasts a few days, until they realize it is social suicide to hang with my daughter. Were it not for her <a href="http://camparanutiq.org/donate.html">camp </a>friends, I don't know what she'd do.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-2776460129196345892011-01-26T20:35:00.000-08:002011-01-26T20:38:00.819-08:00What's in a name?<img alt="mingzi" height="37" hspace="5px" id="cid_1040319" src="http://open.salon.com/files/mingzi1296102677.gif" width="52" />I am smitten with names, always have been. As a youth I read the <i>What Shall We Name the Baby</i> book over and over until it was ragged and dog-eared. One day my father approached me anxiously asking whether I was pregnant. No I wasn't, it was the love of names, the sounds that roll off your tongue, their meaning, the rhythm. <br />
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This penchant for interesting names has caused my children some dismay. The twins have gender neutral names that are rare to boot. They truly believe we have cursed them with their terrible names. I always tell them that our surname is so common it would be uninspired to have a humdrum first name as well, like being called John Smith or Tom Brown. Also there are so many Nates, Zachs and Jacks in their classes who have to be known by both first and last name. With my boys, their friends can ask each other, "Do you have Aidan in your class?" and the answer won't be, "Which one?"<br />
It was with relief that we started addressing my daughter with female pronouns, at that point it was just too weird to go by "L." But what would we call her? She was one step ahead of us. "Gabrielle" she started signing pictures, a rosy-cheeked, spiky-lashed self portrait in clay. Gabrielle. It was a beautiful name but I was not a fan: my husband had briefly dated a Gabrielle. Besides, a name that was too pretty, like Tiffany, could sound like a drag queen.<br />
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She still went by a boy's name at school and a variety of girls names at home. When a substitute teacher or a new playground friend would ask her name she'd change the subject or walk away. She was literally ashamed to use her male name. We tried a gender neutral nickname but this was only a stopgap measure.<br />
I wanted Matt to be involved in the choosing. That way he could claim our daughter. Grace was a name he'd always loved, why not Grace? Matt would have nothing to do with deciding. (<i>Love you Matt, just trying to write with honesty.</i>) Uncomfortable with the transition, wishing it would happen next month, next year, next decade, he couldn't stomach choosing a name. He loved the boy name he'd chosen before. So it was up to L and me.<br />
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As we drove around doing errands I'd call out, "How about Elsie? Ayla? Phoebe?" She'd respond, "Ariel, Cinderella, Belle!" all Disney princess names. No way was my child being named after a Disney princess nor a pop star like Britney Spears or Hanna Montana.<br />
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Some trans kids end up with names that could be for girls <i>or </i>boys. This can make it easier on the parents who may hold a last vestige of hope that it will be only a passing phase. The problem is that as your child becomes an adult she may still look androgynous, which is fine for some, if they are merely gender variant. But a truly transgender person with a unisex name people might ever be inviting the question, "Are you a man or a woman?"<br />
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Others let their kids choose entirely--let them claim their right to be who they want. I get it, but it just wasn't working for me. Parents name their children (or at least have veto power.)<br />
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So I'd keep on throwing out names. One day I tried out "Janet." Janet was the name of a dear childhood friend. "Ruthie! Oh my gosh! I love it better than Gabrielle!" "Are you sure?" She nodded enthusiastically. We pretty quickly settled on Janet. Only later that did I find out that we'd inadvertantly named our daughter after an American Girl Doll.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-14013030765936777302011-01-21T09:23:00.000-08:002011-01-22T13:21:07.939-08:00When a confession attracts the wrong audience.Okay let me start out by saying ick, ick, ick.<br />
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And then I'll go on to say that I put our lives on the line on a regular basis by writing about my family's experience raising a transgender child. Families have been reported to child protective services, and while this usually just creates some bureaucratic stir, it sometimes ends up with children being removed from families or granted custody to estranged spouses unconvinced of their child's condition. With an adopted child, having an outside agency step in had a higher risk.<br />
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I write because I want others to know they're not alone. Both parents of gender variant children and adults who wish they'd had more understanding families find meaning in my stories. Maybe I'll save one kid from a life of turmoil.<br />
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I used to write intermittently, heck I only had 28 followers. Then I discovered the statistics counter. I had readers in Russia! Australia! Japan and Denmark. In Slovenia I have one lone regular reader. I imagine her sitting there late at night in a room lit only by the glow of her computer screen.<br />
The stats taught me something much more dark.<br />
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One day I decided to put myself out there. I wanted to contemplate what it means to have the wrong body. There are parts of me I hate. Lying down in the tub looking down at the wild p*c brush that has no bikini line and fades practically down to my knees I cringe. I can barely shave for raised painful bumps, same goes for waxing. And I feel almost shame when I ask for skates at the rink. Men's 11, I mumble. These are nothing compared to hating your v*a, your br*sts, your p*s , your 5 o'clock shadow. I described how my child pined for br*st bds like her blossoming peers.<br />
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Then I read my stats. The search terms included "br*st bds" and "p*bc hair." Countries that never visited popped up. 17 from Argentina, 17 from Iraq. I pictured a bunch of soldiers gathered around the computer jerking off, thinking about my daughter, my crotch.<br />
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Shocked I deleted my posts. I deleted any photos that showed our faces. Still I know that somebody out there is getting his yayas out reading my blog.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-61077642712589624522011-01-19T19:07:00.000-08:002011-01-19T19:12:18.853-08:00Boring, complaining post: Sorry, it's all I got.Couldn't get to sleep until 1am last night, then woke up at 7:00.<br />
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Had a hundred things to do because my next bunion surgery is tomorrow but was so sleepy I had trouble getting going.<br />
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One of my best friends called to say her mother died. Her father died long ago and her mother-in-law passed last month, so no grandparents for her daughter.<br />
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I couldn't decide whether to cancel my surgery to go be with my friend. After checking out other possible dates and trying to figure out what to do, I ended up opting for surgery.<br />
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I called a couple of her friends we all knew from China.<br />
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I started trying to do some last minute things before surgery. Laundry, cleaning out bathroom, cleaning out stinky fridge. Empty recyclable bottles lay on the bathroom floor ready to sort. Veggies and the glass plate from a fridge drawer were out on the counters when my friend called to ask me to book her tickets. I got on the phone and managed to do that.<br />
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I realized I was late for an appointment just when my friend called to say I'd mis-booked the second leg of the trip. Unbelievably, I spent over an hour on the phone with the airline. As I was transferred to each person, we had to start the whole process over again and repeat all the new information.<br />
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My kids kept on calling, having arrived home to an unlocked door and things strewn all over. They were worried about me (I found out later) but I couldn't answer their calls because I was on the phone with the airline.<br />
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By the time the last agent came on the phone and asked for all the information over again I started crying. Meanwhile my friend called to tell me she had to check her luggage but it had to go to the old location because her new itinerary wasn't booked yet. She started consoling me as I cried in her ear. I told her she was nuts because she was consoling me and her mother had just died.<br />
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At home I made dinner and the children helped. After dinner I cleaned up then got ready to go out grocery shopping.<br />
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I checked on facebook and my favorite person I play a form of scrabble with disappeared. We used to chat as we played and were an even match. I thought she had dumped me and started crying again.<br />
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I bought a Hoho at the supermarket and it tasted disgusting. I ate all three in the pack anyway.<br />
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Back at home one son helped me unload the car (yay!) and my husband helped put the stuff away (thank goodness.)<br />
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Then my kids started fighting as I continued to clean up. I ran upstairs and said, "I couldn't get to sleep last night, I got up early, my best friend's mother died, I cleaned the house, spent hours on the phone booking tickets and am having surgery tomorrow. If your sibling upsets you keep it to yourself. Throw a pillow in your room but do not talk to or engage them." Ten seconds my son made my daughter mad and she threw water on him. <br />
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Fifteen minutes later the twins were playing so rambunctiously and shouting so loudly that I called upstairs and asked them to quiet down. Instead they gave me some flack.<br />
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Then I remembered I had to still book car rentals. That went smoothly.<br />
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After that my facebook friend reappeared and we started playing Lex. Phew.<br />
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Wish me luck on my surgery.Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-65350380717838825142011-01-10T07:10:00.000-08:002011-01-10T07:50:15.297-08:00Sharing the idea of transgender people with childrenThe post below cites studies that show teaching children about transgender people--including transgender children--won't <i>cause</i> them to become transgender, but will educate them about diversity <i>and</i> will help transgender children feel safe to open up about their identities.<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/joanne-herman/should-we-teach-children-_b_805133.html" id="title_permalink" title="Permalink"> <br />
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Should We Introduce Children to the Concept of Transgender People</a><br />
Joanne Herman, <i>Huffington Post, </i>January 10, 2011<br />
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<h1></h1>Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-68737326440167754652011-01-06T09:02:00.000-08:002011-05-24T22:02:44.013-07:00What will people think?<span id="internal-source-marker_0.293621568028699" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0pt 103.5pt 0pt 40.5pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There are many who dare not kill themselves for fear of what the neighbours will say. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cyril Connolly</span></div><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When you have a transgender child, the different stages of reactions can feel endless:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Deceit:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My first semi-unsuccessful chat, was with a neighbor. I told her Janet was born in the wrong body. She seemed to listen well enough, and so I asked her, "I don't want people talking about us behind our backs, if you hear anybody with questions can you tell them to address us directly?" Soon after I discovered </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">she </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">had been talking about us to a mutual friend to the tune of "how could a child that young possibly know??" I could have explained...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ridicule:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In the school yard I overheard children sniggering as they passed us. I bristled, but at least Janet was oblivious. ADHD can have it's benefits.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Confessions:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Before Janet transitioned she was having trouble in the lunch line for her feminine behavior. I called up the cafeteria worker to explain the situation. She said, "Oh, I understand. You know my sister's gay." Same with the dentist assistant's cousin. Likewise the middle school </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">secretary's daughter. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Empathy:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Not long after baseball season started Janet changed her name and pronouns--luckily it was a at least a co-ed league. Before we broke the news to the team I told a fellow baseball parent whom I didn't otherwise know. Hearing our story she burst out in tears, overwhelmed, saying what an amazing thing for this child to leave China and get to start out anew in a loving family who accepted her.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Champions:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The same mother above met me the next week and told me she had been defending us at church. She told her fellow parishioners that they didn't know our family, so who were they to judge? Similarly, a friend who lived in a different school district bumped into me at the supermarket and enthusiastically informed me that she'd been standing up for me. Grateful though I was, there was a side of me that didn't want to know strangers around town were gossiping about our family. Ignorance might have been bliss.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Support:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Three casual acquaintances surprised us by sending cards and one by calling expressing their support. In a note Janet's teacher wrote:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I was very impressed with how the whole 3rd grade handled the talk this morning. They were the ones reminding me to change her name tag and when I called her L by accident they reminded me.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Acceptance:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My brother wrote, "I guess your husband's family was finally due for a girl grandchild! Congratulations...you can count on us to accept her choices. Cindy will have to share the spotlight now." Even more so my mother was thrilled to have another granddaughter to shop for and promptly took her to the mall.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Doubt:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Gay friends would tell me that "he" probably was just gay. Others would tell me "he" would grow out of it (and still do.)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A friend told me she had been a tomboy her whole life, only hung with boys, excelled at sports and would have agreed to be a boy if somebody had asked her. Maybe, but she never insisted she </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">was</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> a boy.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Others would pinpoint any "boy-like" behavior in her and claimed proof she was "really a boy." She loves to duel with sticks and run around crazily, hence she's a boy? People have trouble understanding there is no real gender duality, rather a gender spectrum. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Oblivious:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">One doctor we saw just</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">ignored the information, even though her name on the file had been changed. He continued to address Janet as "him," even commenting on the scabs and bruises on her legs that "boys will be boys." After two such appointments we found a new doctor.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Rancor:</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.imatyfa.org/"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000099; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">TYFA</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> monitored closely the more well-known "hate groups" for reactions to our news (so we didn't have to see it.) While there were many nasty discussion for weeks, they eventually petered out. Some sent hateful letters to Janet's school principal. Luckily no one has ever been mean to us personally, which isn't always so for families with transgender children.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>My own overreaction:</b></span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Two days after she transitioned at school a bespectacled boy asked Janet if she were a boy. Tamping down my Mama Bear, I bent down and asked him how he'd feel if someone made fun of him for wearing glasses, that we were all different, but we don't make fun of differences. His mother, apparently nearby, saw me and didn't like the way I talked to him and complained to the principal (can you say <i>triangulation</i>?) In retrospect, he was probably just confused. My bad.</span></div><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And so...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Overall we've been relatively fortunate. Janet still gets some jabs from classmates, which is upsetting, but she rallies. As long as she's not stealth there will always be unwanted attention. If I can give back by writing and helping others through this process, then it will be worth it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span>Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-75570673847813530922011-01-04T15:33:00.000-08:002011-01-04T15:33:53.369-08:00Chocolate dump cake, when no cake is not an option<a href="http://www.salon.com/food/kitchen_challenge/2011/01/04/recipes_for_snow_ins">Your best recipes for snow-ins and other emergencies</a><br /><br />I was runner-up in the Salon.com's Kitchen Challenge. Above is my entry. Enjoy some chocolate cake on me!Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2753640549659664539.post-26878590773557489632010-12-23T06:14:00.000-08:002010-12-24T08:34:32.090-08:00Sad and glad tidings for transgender children<div class="pbody" id="pbody">When the going gets tough, transkids keep going. What choice do they have? A transboy we met at the <a href="http://www.trans-health.org/">Philadelphia Trans-Health Conference</a>, we'll call him Charlie, had some sad tidings. He was invited to a friend's birthday party. Charlie's mom takes the approach to tell parents of friends of her son that he's trans, and so had a talk with the friend's mom. In this case I'm a proponent of "don't ask don't tell," or none of your damn business! Still, there's no manual and we each choose our own paths.<a name='more'></a><br />
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Fortunately the friend's mom was cool with it. Later that evening, though, the father called and said, while they love him, they "have to look out for their son's best interest and having a relationship with Charlie is not in the picture. Charlie is sinning and you as his parents need to have more leadership in raising him." Charlie, heart broken, was told he could at least keep the presents he'd bought for his friend. Cold consolation. His mom was bewildered thinking that they all were Christians, and Christians are supposed to be compassionate. My experience is that while a good majority of religious people are very compassionate, agnostics and atheists are consistently accepting. Strange, huh? When Charlie complained on facebook, Janet, 11, wrote to him,<br />
<blockquote>"Hey Charlie, I know how that feels and life is like this so u have to get over this situation and be strong and confident. I know how that could be hurtful and I am trans but that never happened to me. But if you have recess you could see him in school or join a club and see him at the club or something like that...but i feel bad so I am going to say be strong and try to find more new friends and stand up for your self and tell people that u are proud being transgender and be happy with life." </blockquote>What strikes me is that she urges him to be strong, not dwell on friendships that don't work and be proud, while she rarely follows this advice herself. Actually, her advice sounds like what I've given her when <i>she </i>loses friends. When this happens she wails for hours like a child bereaved of a parent, which, being adopted, she really is. She tells Charlie that it hasn't happened to her, but while not directly, I suspect it's why friends have dropped her. In one case she heard a friend's mom say over the phone, "You are not allowed to go to Janet's house and you have to stop going to the library club where you see her," without saying why.<br />
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There's hope, though, if at least Janet's taken my message to heart. Even if she can't act on it just now, she gets it at some level. And so, with glad tidings, I wish you all hope for your children, for the ones you love, including yourselves. </div>Proud Mammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04147445552811284327noreply@blogger.com0