feminism

Dear Jo,

December 20, 2019December 20, 2019 vanessavnichols

Today, I’m sharing a letter that a fellow mama bear wrote to JK Rowling in response to Rowling’s raging transphobia. It was once speculated by some previous comments she’s made, now its confirmed.

(If you’re not familiar with how transphobic the billionaire author of the Harry Potter series is, please read here.)

This letter was written by this mama almost a year ago when rumors were circulating about Rowling’s transphobia. And I just thought this to be too sweet of a note not to share.

Rowling wrote her way into so many lives. She’s resonated with so many with her underlying themes of magic and “be who you are” and all of the things that we needed to hear.

Yet.

Here she is.

Excluding.

Perpetuating narratives that are a danger to our trans community.

She’s breaking hearts.

Please read sweet Georgia’s plea to Jo. I think this will hit many of you in the heart.

*******

Dear Jo,

I hope it’s ok to call you Jo? You don’t know me, and while it’s true that I don’t know you, I’ve spent so many years in one form or another of your company that I feel a familiarity. We all know there’s an illusion of intimacy that celebrity can bring and I’m mindful of that, but I think it’s fair to say that I might know at least some things about you. That you are compassionate, that you value friendship and loyalty. That in your ideal world, we are all given a fair go, and that respect and recognition should be things that everyone has a chance to earn. That all children are deserving of unconditional, unlimited love.

People sometimes ask which three people, living or not, you would choose to have dinner with. For many years now my answer to that question has been my grandmothers, who both died when I was quite young, and you.

Unlike some of your fans, I didn’t grow up reading your books. At 43, I’m afraid I missed that boat. I discovered Harry Potter at age 23 in 2000, when I was pregnant with my first child. A friend lent me the first, and I quickly devoured the next three. I then eagerly awaited each book as it came out; I joined queues on release days and dressed my then-toddler in his cloak and wand. I spent hours speculating on forums and was sorted into my house (a proud Ravenclaw). In 2006, I saw you read at Radio City Music Hall, and it remains to this day one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I don’t give too much thought to celebrities in general, I doubt there’s a singer or actor who could elicit much of a response from me. But when you sat on the stage and read to us, I wept.

My second child was born earlier that year, betwixt Half-Blood Prince and The Deathly Hallows, and my third and fourth were born in 2009 and 2011, when these were released as movies.

So while I can’t claim that you or your books influenced my childhood, in many ways they did influence my motherhood. Partly as a refuge from study and work while jugglingpregnancies and small children, partly as a reward at the end of a long day or a quiet pleasure to indulge in during nap time. But most importantly, as a joy I was able to share with my children. These were no tedious bedtime stories, no tiresome trips to the movies as a reluctant supervisor. These were something we loved, and we loved them together. We still do. I thank you so much for that.

I suppose I need to get to the point. There’s always one of those, isn’t there? I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I didn’t ever write before without an agenda, but these things often only happen when something strikes a certain chord, and I’ve recently felt compelled to address something important to me.

As well as a librarian, book nerd, killer of indoor plants, lover of handbags, and Harry Potter tragic, I’m mum to a transgender daughter. In many ways, your stories embrace and affirm a daughter like mine. They are filled with children who have the courage and conviction to follow their hearts, and who sometimes face great odds to live life as they know they should. They are filled with messages about bravery, equality, and hope in the face of adversity. They are filled with characters who do not always do what is easiest, but what is right.

It’s so hard for me, then, to reconcile this with recent views on transgender people. Part of me wants to give you the benefit of the doubt, that part of me that has loved, treasured, hung off every word you wrote for so many years. But yet another part of me, the part that faces and fights discrimination, hatred, and bigotry against children like my daughter almost every day, has to recognise that perhaps, for once, your words have lost their magic for me.

I know it’s of no actual consequence to you, but my first thought was “Well, that’s Jo off my fantasy dinner list. Who on earth can I replace her with?”

But I’ve had a little time to think, and I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to keep you there. My grandmothers are on this list because I’d dearly love to know them as an adult, and for them to meet my children. And I’d like you to meet my children too. I’d like you to meet my beautiful daughter, and understand her for the brave, kind, and compassionate person she is. After all you’ve taught us, I’d like to give you the chance to learn from her.

Alas, no such dinner will ever occur. There’s no resurrection stone to bring back my grandmothers, and no “Accio Jo” spell to summon you to my home. But there are other children you could learn these same lessons from. For all the joy and wisdom you’ve given me, I’d like to give one small gift of advice to you: know one transgender child and their family, and I promise that your world will be the more magical for it.

Always,

Georgia

Life Lessons, Parenting, Raising a Trans Child, Ranting, Uncategorized

Gender Best Guess Parties

August 17, 2018July 13, 2019 vanessavnichols

I hate gender reveal parties.

There. I said it.

I’m not aiming to change thoughts on these parties, because, at the end of the day, you do you, but just hear me out.

Around 2010-2011-ish, a year or two after I birthed my child, these gender reveal parties started popping up everywhere.

And I was so confused.

I mean, I saw couples go all out for these events. Fireworks, and smoke, and balloons, and surprise cake filling, all filled with the color that supposedly suggests the sex of the baby. Sometimes, like, super over the top shit goes down at these parties. This is a big deal for a whole lot of people these days. Over the past decade, this trend has grown into a full fledged expectation before birthing the child.

But. What’s the purpose?

When these parties surfaced, I wasn’t some warrior on a path to dissolve the gender construct, because it was before my kiddo came out as trans, therefore before I put much thought to gender roles, and it wasn’t because I’m a feminist who thought them to be inappropriate since they perpetuate the gender bias and ultimately the patriarchy.

I just simply thought they were silly.

Aside from feeling that they’re a bit lavish since baby showers are where we’ve historically celebrated the impending arrival, it quickly occurred to me that these parties are literally celebrating genitals.

And that’s weird.

It’s a very uncomfortable concept for a party. I don’t understand why so many people have gotten behind the hype.

As expecting parents, typically, many of us can’t wait for that 20-week big ultrasound, for the tech to exclaim “It’s a boy/girl!”. And they do that solely by looking at…genitals. So, these parties feel a lot like, “Hey, come and guess what kind of genitalia my baby has!!”. You might as well have penis or vagina shaped cookies on the table, too.

Ew.

And I know some are pushing back, arguing that it’s a celebration of the gender itself, right? But is it? And if so, why?

Turns out, for me, I became the mom of a transgender son. I was one of the thousands who thought that I had birthed a gender, a girl in my case, one that would love to go shopping with me, love to braid her hair, share make-up and maybe love gymnastics or cheerleading… only to be oh so very wrong. I had the nursery painted purple, donned my child in all pink at his first birthday, complete with a tutu and headband, tried to shove him into that gender conforming box.

And he would have none of it.

As soon as he could assert his opinions and his choices, around the age of 2-4, he was all boy. For him, his gender identity didn’t match his genitals. And that does happen more than you probably realize. So, it would have been a complete waste of good pink unicorn poop shooting out of a cannon, had I celebrated that way.

Not to mention that one out of every 1500 babies are born intersex, meaning with some form of both genitalia. And this shouldn’t be shamed by celebrating some archaic form of gender roles based on what’s in a child’s pants.

It’s weird.

But aside from that, what I’ve learned is that gender is nothing more than a social construct. If you don’t believe me, dig into history and read up on how gender roles have changed over time, how that up until the 1920’s, little boys wore dresses and kept long hair until they were between the ages of 6-8. That these pink and blue boxes that we all like to put almost everything in life into didn’t really surface until the last century. Girls like pink, and make-up, and princesses. And boys like dirt, and sports, and trucks. That’s what we’ve been groomed to believe in modern day society.

It seems narrow to celebrate these gender roles and societal norms for girls and boys. Especially since you have no idea what your child will gravitate towards and what they’re going to capable of. It might not fit into the box that you’re hoping for.

And if you’re saying “No, no, no! My child can like whatever they want! My girl can love sports and the color blue and my son can dance if he wants!”…then what on earth are we celebrating at a gender reveal party if that were true?

And here’s my final thought: Oftentimes, we hear “I don’t care what the gender is, as long as they’re healthy”, and if we mean that, why have a party to reveal the gender? What significance does it truly hold? I can’t think of anything worthy or reasonable to answer those questions.

I’m looking for answers here: what are these parties about? Please answer that for yourself if you’ve bought into them. What ideology are we perpetuating with them?

I’m all for a good, fun party, for sure, but this is one party theme that has always made me scratch my head, even before I knew my son was trans.

When I’m scrolling my feed and I see pictures or videos of pink or blue sky writings announcing the sex of babies, I have relabeled them as “Gender Best Guess Parties” in my head.

And then I imagine a rainbow of colors shooting out of that firework, or oozing out of that cupcake.

Because our kids are so much more than just pink or blue.

Let them be fluid. Let them be colorful.

Why not let them teach you if they’re pink or blue or somewhere in between?

Parenting, Uncategorized

Please Don’t Thank Me for Being A Working Mom.

April 9, 2017July 2, 2017 vanessavnichols

I read this wonderfully sweet post today, thanking us working moms for basically holding down the fort, if you will, in the work force. It was endearing and not at all condescending like some pieces similar to this have been. I felt the author was genuine and all of her words came from a beautiful place. Calling us “true feminist heroes” felt amazing. It really did. I admit, I puffed out my ego for one second. ‘Yeah. Hell yeah. We are feminist heroes. Damn right”.

But listen.

Don’t thank me.

I needed work more than feminism and work needed me.

I am unapologetic for wanting- no, needing- my career.

Yes, I need to work to pay bills, especially as a single mom, but I also need to work to stay sane. I never aspired to be a stay-at-home-mom. I never even aspired to be a mom, if I’m being honest. Not to be confused with not wanting to be a mom at all. I did want a child. It happened, it’s wonderful, and I’m thankful but it wasn’t my sole goal in life. It wasn’t my end all, be all. It wasn’t what would define me. I knew it would probably be a part of my life but I also knew it wouldn’t be my whole life.

And quite frankly, I don’t understand why we shame moms who aren’t fulfilled by motherhood alone. Why we still, in 2017, make moms feel like they should be fulfilled by motherhood alone. Why do we pity working moms?

I cannot tell you how many times I heard, “Ohhhh, you have to work? That must be so hard!”, when my daughter was little. I remember blatantly lying and saying, “yes, yes it is so difficult”. She’s 8 now and I still hear this pity from time to time, especially when I travel for work. I don’t lie anymore.

No. It’s not hard. I mean, yes, motherhood is hard in all of it’s forms, but working is not the hardest part of it. As a matter of a fact, working might be the easiest part of being a mom for me. At least there’s a job description and a manual for my day job. And at times, my job is far easier than being a mom, (especially in the “threenager” years. AmIrite?) It gives me time to myself in some ways. It gives me a break. It gives me my own idenity. It gives my life an additional purpose. It gives me something my child cannot. And, when I travel for work? Hello? Hotels! Alone!

No, It’s not difficult for me to be away from my child while I work. I don’t ache for her during the day, I don’t feel guilt that I’m not with her 24/7. I’m not sad that I’m missing moments. I returned to work at 7 weeks postpartum and I was happy to do so. I was looking forward to having that piece of my life back.

And I don’t feel bad about admitting these things. We, as moms, are sometimes shamed into feeling that we should solely be a mom once we have a child.

Think about this: do we shame and judge fathers this way? Do we hold dads to the same expectations? No. Never have and never will.

Although women have emerged as “bread winners” of families over the last few decades, it’s still far less common and it’s still widely scrutinized. And it’s unfair. The feminist movement fought for equality (and yes, we’re still fighting in so.many.ways.) and I am a proud female business owner, I work my ass off, and I am a mom.

And for those that do choose the path of staying home – wonderful. That is equally as amazing. If some moms are fulfilled by the very, very difficult job of staying at home with their children, kudos. Big fat kudos to them because I wasn’t built for that life. And I’m ok with that. My response when moms say they stay at home is, “Ooohhh, I’m sorry. That must be so hard!”. I am not envious. At all.

I’m certainly not writing this to take sides in any sort “mommy war” of who has the harder position. We are all in the trenches of some tough, tough shit. And that common denominator is simply motherhood. We are all warriors of that same battle, of that same beauty.

The true “thank you” goes out to those feminists who paved the way for women to join the work force, those that gave us a choice in the matter. I am eternally grateful for the pioneers that got us here. I am also grateful for all moms raising amazing, kind-hearted humans, no matter what else they do with their time.

Carry on, warrior mamas. We are all fighting the good fight of raising children the best we know how.