Tag: self discovery

Life Lessons, Parenting, Raising a Trans Child

An Open Letter To Moms Struggling to Support Their Trans Child

vanessavnichols

Hi, fellow moms. Happy Mother’s Day!

So, your child threw you for a loop, came out as trans recently? Or maybe not so recently.

I chose Mother’s Day weekend to write to you for a very specific reason- Because I don’t know that there’s a more difficult day in motherhood than the day your child comes out as trans.

Because it’s really scary. And confusing. We’ve known that there’s no manual for motherhood, but this wasn’t even on your radar. I get it.

You’ve chosen the path of least resistance for yourself and have chosen to not support them. And I understand why. I once was you.

My trans son tried to tell me from the time he could talk that he was a boy.

I didn’t believe him. For years.

Biologically impossible.

A phase.

Confused.

Just a tomboy.

He’s too young to know this about himself.

He can wait until he’s an adult to make this decision.

Those are the thoughts that circulated around my brain from the time he was 3 until he was 8 years old. Allowing him a name and pronoun change, that he begged for, wasn’t even sensical to me. It didn’t sound as simple as it ended up to be. It sounded like a setup to confuse him even more. The boys clothes and the short hair cut was a stretch for me, if I’m being honest. Because…he will get made fun of for falling outside of the norm. Right?

Maybe some of this sounds familiar to you.

Maybe your religious beliefs are mixed in here somewhere, adding a layer. Maybe you believe this is part of a mental illness. Maybe you believe it’s a trend. Maybe you’re absolutely convinced that being transgender isn’t even…real.

Mama. I’m holding you tight.

Because I know you’re scared. That’s fear under every single statement and thought above. It’s fear. Recognize it as such. It’s new, it’s foreign, it’s big, it’s scary. And if your child is transgender, it might mean that their life will be so.much.harder. And that feels big and scary.

If you’re like me, you didn’t grow up in a diverse space. Gender expansiveness wasn’t prevalent.

Maybe your only frame of reference to the LGBTQ+ community is the one gay friend you have, or the gay neighbors, or the pride parade that you know happens once a year somewhere around you. Perhaps you have never met an out transgender person. Maybe Caitlyn Jenner or Chaz Bono or Jazz Jennings are your only benchmark.

You simply haven’t had the exposure to the trans community that you needed for this moment. The education escaped you…since it’s never touched you personally.

It’s not your fault. Society has failed us here by not teaching us real history and the reality of the diversity that truly exists. We live in a heteronormative, cisnormative (non trans) world.

And mama, I understand. You hold hopes and dreams for this human. When I was told I was birthing a girl, I imagined this little me running around as a pre teen in pigtails, maybe playing soccer, maybe cheerleading, definitely athletic like her dad. Shopping for makeup with me, loving purses like I do, sassy and independent like me. Maybe she would be an engineer or a doctor someday.

We all do this. We fantasize and construct this perfect human in our minds.

But they sure are their own people, after all. They’re never that imaginary person in our minds. They are them.

And a piece of them might just be that they were assigned the wrong gender at birth. A piece of them might just be that they’re transgender.

And if they’ve trusted you with this information by coming out to you, I promise it will be ok. And you have to take the path of resistance here. Lean into it. Allow them the freedom of taking you on this beautiful journey. As it turns out, it isn’t scary…at all.

You once said that you didn’t care about this child’s gender as long as they’re healthy. We said when we were pregnant. Apply this now. Whether they’re 3 or 6 or 10 or 15 or 30. Apply this now.

Don’t go too big. We go too big when our kids come out as trans. The picture looks so big in our minds. It’s almost too much to process. So start small. Simply say, “I love you. What name and pronouns should I use?”. Start there. And just…try.

Order a book about parenting a trans child, or watch a documentary about what it means to be transgender, or follow some public moms of trans kids, or join a supportive online community or parents of trans kids.

Baby step this. But make that first step.

Because they’re hurting and they need you. And I know this because my child was self harming at the age of 8. Talk about a call to action. After he came out, his cloud lifted immediately. It was magic. All he needed was unconditional love. Easy.

I also know that your children are hurting because they’re the ones messaging me on social media to thank me for being a “hero” to my own child…simply for loving him…because they’re not feeling loved by you right now.

I have hundreds of these messages saved from the last 3 years, since my son and I went public with our advocacy work and our story. Messages from your children looking for just a little support from a stranger. Because you can’t give it to them. Every single message breaks me.

They need you right now.

So here’s a thought:

Maybe make that first step today, on Mother’s Day. To celebrate the day by facing your fears and affirming your child. Give them the gift of seeing who they are, not who you imagined.

Celebrate being a mom by celebrating the life you brought into the world. See the whole. See them. Acknowledge them.

I cannot emphasize this enough: It’s the most beautiful gift you’ll receive this weekend.

Find the beauty. Do the work. It will change your life in the best way possible. And it will save your child’s life. The very life that made you a mom.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Life Lessons, Parenting, Raising a Trans Child, Ranting

The Gift of Language: Learning What it Means to Be Transgender

vanessavnichols

I will never know what it’s like to be transgender.

I’m cisgender. Meaning, I am connected to the gender that the doctor assigned to me at birth, simply by looking at my body.

That word, cisgender, wasn’t even in my vocabulary 4 years ago. I was able to learn about the word, and now I’m passing it onto you.

That’s how education works, after all. But so many people seem to have a hard time absorbing knowledge about the trans community.

I knew I was a girl from a young age. As early as I can remember.

How did I know?

Well, yes, sure, I enjoyed things that our society labels as female- dresses, dolls, the color pink, but more so, I never had a misalignment between body and mind. I felt comfortable in my skin, with my name, being called “she”, being treated as a “girl” growing up, in the ways we are accustomed to. It was just an inherently known fact to me, that I was a girl, from a young age.

My transgender son knew he was a boy in a similar manner. It was inherent to him from a young age, because gender is a concept that science has proven that we grasp from about age 4.

Everything I’ve learned so far about being transgender is largely based on my son’s experience, what he tells me, what he chooses to share with me, and what I’m able to learn from other trans people, and other parents of trans kids, who are gracious enough to educate me through different mediums.

People often ask me, “How did your child know that he was transgender at such a young age?!”, which usually is delivered with an undertone that I somehow influenced him, or encouraged him, to become trans. Impossible, since I didn’t even know what being trans truly meant and impossible because you cannot make someone trans.

I digress.

The thing is, my son didn’t have the language for how he was feeling when he was really young. He came out at age 8…because we sought guidance from a professional that helped give him the language he needed.

It baffles me when people can’t understand this, or deny that being trans is “real”. Or when some say there’s some “trans trend”, or the “we didn’t have transgender people when I was growing up!”.

It baffles me because we’ve all had something in our lives that we went through that we needed assistance to gain the knowledge and understanding about, so we knew how to make our suffering better, or cure it altogether.

Yes, my son was suffering by age 7.

He was suffocated by the rigid rules of “you’re a girl because you have a vagina and that’s that”. He was uncomfortable in his skin. He was sad, shy, and hurting, because he was so misunderstood and unheard, even by me. Societal norms are a hell of a mute button and the more I forced gender norms on him, the quieter he was, (which seems to be why many trans folks don’t come out until later in life, just soaked in that shame, lacking the language).

My son just internalized the shame. And did as he was told. As kids tend to do.

Because I didn’t get it.

I wasn’t helping him find his solution to his pain. My ignorance was stifling him.

I don’t blame myself, necessarily, because we. just tend to trudge through parenting blindly, We mostly try to do what folks view as “normal”, or raise our kids similar to how we were raised, and we don’t take off our blinders until we have to. The path of least resistance, mostly. We just want normalcy and privilege and easiness for our kids.

So many of us as parents dismiss our children’s cries for help, call it “a phase”, or “growing pains”, mostly because their struggles look different from what our experiences were, since they are, indeed, different humans. We inadvertently cause so much pain in this way.

Haven’t we all been there, though? Can’t we empathize with this feeling on some level? Can’t we reflect to a point in our lives when we were being misunderstood, dismissed, or minimized?

I can.

For me, my unheard, misunderstood piece of my being is my good friend, anxiety.

When I was 7, I started having major panic attacks, social anxiety, and separation anxiety. Only, there wasn’t a name for any of those things in 1983, especially for kids. Literally no one discussed anxiety openly, at least not in my world. My parents had no idea what was wrong with me.

There was no solid language surrounding what I was experiencing.

I felt ashamed. I felt abnormal. I felt like I was the weird kid. I felt like an outcast, even though I had friends. I had this giant secret of the internal suffering that I was experiencing. I felt like the only one with this type of suffering. I felt like no one would understand if I tried to explain it, so I didn’t.

I just dealt with it.

It was crippling and scary at times, but I just kept going through life. I just accepted that this was the way my life had to be. It felt harder than it should be, but when I was told that I just had “stomach issues” or that I was just “a bit of a nervous kid”, I assumed this was just my life.

Much like my son thought before he came out. He was told he had to carry the label of being a girl, so he did. That was just how it had to be for him since the adults in his life told him so.

I didn’t have a name for anxiety until I was in my early 20’s, after I was honest with myself about how I was feeling. I sought some help of a professional and she gave me language:

“You are living with generalized anxiety”.

“But, headaches? Fatigue? Upset stomach? That’s not anxiety”, I remember saying.

“Yes. All anxiety. And so many people have anxiety. We will figure out how you can best manage it”, she said.

And the sense of relief I had was insurmountable. Just to have a sense of what I was feeling was…normal…and ok…and common. It all made more sense to me, all of my symptoms, what my body was reacting to.

It was a starting point of tackling how to make this better.

Much like my son when he was given the language to explain how he was feeling.

For my son, to hear the language, and to have someone, a professional, who validated him, was what he needed to make sense out of how he was feeling. For my son, a name and pronoun change was his magic. He’s happy, he’s thriving, he’s well-adjusted, living a normal kid life, much happier than he was before he came out, living his best life.

And that’s how he knew he was transgender. And that’s how I then learned what this all meant for him.

It was a process of learning, like most things that aren’t widely discussed or understood. Just like I learned about my anxiety.

When I tell people that I live with anxiety, and that sometimes I have to take medication to control it, no one tells me that it’s not real. No one tells me that there’s no such thing as anxiety.

So why do people say these things to trans people? Why are their feelings invalidated constantly?

It’s important to acknowledge here that I am not comparing being transgender to having a mental illness. The parallel only exists in the “I don’t know exactly how I’m feeling and I want to make it better”, of both scenarios.

For me, anxiety is something I live with, some bad wiring, something I manage.

For my son, being trans is a piece of who he is. In both situations, it just required a little bit of knowledge about how we deviate from the “norm”. There’s nothing wrong with us, nothing needing to be fixed. Just things about us that needed to be acknowledged so we knew what to do to be a better version of ourselves.

When we evolve enough to openly speak about topics that seem obscure or rare or different, we give others empowerment to own our feelings, to validate ourselves. When we are able to define our feelings and give language to them, we then have this tremendous gift of being able to pass on knowledge, come together in solidarity.

The more we give this gift of language to others about things we don’t understand, the more awareness we’re building. The more awareness, the more we normalize things that generally carry stigmas, the more we lift one another up.

This is how this all works.

Let’s continue to give the gift of passing on definitions and education and language for our trans community. Our entire lives are based off of education and learning and raising awareness. We can do this for our trans loved ones.

It’s up to us, allies, to share the language we’ve learned with others who are uninformed. The onus isn’t on the trans community to educate. It’s on us.

We know knowledge is power.

It was a gift to learn the language I needed to understand my transgender son.

I’m passing the gift onto you.

Pass it on.

Raising a Trans Child, Ranting

Dear Jo,

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

What I Wish I Knew Before My Child Came Out As Transgender

vanessavnichols

I have a 10 year old transgender son who has been out for almost 2 years now.

Everything and nothing has changed within that time.

He hasn’t changed much at all, aside from being a happier, more well adjusted child, yet everything about me- my thinking, my beliefs, my circle of friends, my priorities- everything has changed for me.

They say that when your trans child transitions, the parents transition, too. And those words are so very, very true.

The caterpillar to the butterfly analogy certainly applies to our kids, as they become themselves within this amazing, beautiful journey. Their wings spread far and wide.

And we, as affirming parents of trans kids, fly right behind them, finding our own wings, navigating a new path with so many unknowns in the beginning of the journey.

There’s so much I wish I knew a few years ago and I hope that imparting these key points will assist other parents who might be new here.

Here’s what I wish I knew:

1. That Trans Kids Exist

And that it was even possible that my kid was one.

I knew that transgender adults existed, mostly thanks to visible folks such as Laverne Cox and Chaz Bono, so it sounds silly in my own brain now that I didn’t realize that trans kids existed. If they’re trans as adults, it’s quite obvious to me that they were trans kids. I know this now.

But, like many of us, I was confusing gender identity with sexuality or sexual orientation, therefore, I was certain that being trans was something one would realize when they’re older, maybe teen years, maybe young adulthood, which is when we muddle through our sexuality. After all, Chaz was an adult when he came out, as was Laverne and Caitlyn Jenner, even.

Jazz Jennings was the only trans child visible and I knew very little of her story. Truth be told, I didn’t want to know her story because I judged her parents for encouraging her young transition.

Yes. I was one of those folks who thought this way. I didn’t understand how this works. So, I parented this way, rooted in my ignorance.

I simply didn’t know that trans kids existed because I didn’t inform myself. I wasn’t listening to others lived experiences. I wasn’t believing them.

Trans kids exist.

Trans adults were trans kids.

They just conformed to what was expected of them. Societal norms are one hell of a mute button.

2. That The “Wait and See” Approach Is Harmful

When my child began displaying non-gender conforming preferences at the age of 2-3, I followed his lead in the sense of “allowing” him to dress in boys clothes and play with boy toys, and eventually even caved to the boy hair cut at 6, but I fully dismissed him as he begged to change his name to a boy’s name, as he imaginary player as the male character, as he drew himself as male.

I would respond to him by saying, “we will talk about this when you’re older”, and shut him down.

What I know now is that I was soaking him in shame.

I was perpetuating bad information about gender that we’ve all been given.

Kids have a concept of their gender by the time they’re 3, (often times even before the age of 3 but prior to that, they done have the language yet). This is a fact.

None of us cisgender (non trans) folks waited until we were adults to identify as the gender we are. Neither should our trans kids. Because they know themselves.

It’s quite simple. We just need to listen.

And the American Academy of Pediatrics agrees, as does every other major medical association.

I hear often from parents of older trans kids (teens and young adults) that I’m fortunate that my child came out so young. I didn’t understand why I would hear this so often at first, but now I do.

Had I have listened harder, sooner, I would have saved my son quite a bit of pain. And some parents don’t listen, don’t hear, don’t even see it coming at all because their trans kids don’t even trust them with the information, soaking their kids in shame for years and years, when there’s then so much unraveling and unpacking to do by the time they come out. (And yes, some trans folks don’t figure this out about themselves until they’re older, which is just as valid as knowing from a young age!).

To “wait and see” is such an insidious thing to do and needs caution.

The sooner transgender kids are affirmed, the easier their journey will be. Full stop.

Does that mean that every kid that gender bends is trans? Absolutely not.

But when they’re consistent and persistent about how they identify- believe them. They know.

3. That It’s Necessary to Cleanse Family and Friends Out

When my son came out, we knew we’d lose some family and friends, and we did.

And that’s totally ok.

Actually, it’s better than ok- it’s necessary.

When your young child comes out as trans, it’s a way of taking the trash out of your lives.

Not everyone will understand this journey, of course, but not everyone will even try to understand. And those people need to get packing and move along.

We were humbled by the love and support we received. It was amazing. And it came from the most unexpected places at times.

There’s a giant difference between tolerance and acceptance, though.

In the beginning of this journey, tolerance was welcomed. We were just glad people weren’t being outwardly terrible to us.

A few months in, I realized that tolerance actually felt pretty terrible. It was that feeling similar to when you’re in high school when you’re talking to the cool group of friends, but you know when you walk away, they’re shit-talking you.

That’s how our daily lives began to feel when my son came out. And it didn’t feel good. At all.

Now, we only allow acceptance into our lives, because this isn’t an “agreed to disagree” situation. Affirming my child was live saving. Affirming trans kids is suicide prevention.

So, we say “no thanks” to those who are merely tolerating us.

Ask questions, learn, research, read, educate yourselves. I need my son to know that he’s fully and wholeheartedly loved. He needs to go through life with this confidence so he can weed out the terrible people immediately and only surround himself with goodness. No excuses. Religion isn’t an excuse, uninformed bigotry isn’t an excuse. None of the “but that person is my aunt, uncle, best friend”, etc. type of talk. Toxic is toxic and we move on from those folks.

Be a true ally… or we don’t have a lotta space for you.

4. That There’s a Beautiful Community On the Other Side

I was terrified when my son came out because I was scared to be alone, despite the loving, accepting people in our lives. I wanted to connect to other parents in the LGBTQ+ community, walking a similar path, so naturally, I went to social media.

No, really. True story.

I found so many of our people there.

From private Facebook groups, to Instagram influencers, to Twitter handles- there’s a giant, affirming, amazing community of beautiful, colorful people that I’ve bonded with. The support we’ve found here has been so incredible, inspiring, and necessary.

We’ve built a community of support locally, too, by finding our local LGBTQ+ youth center.

All of these folks are our new, chosen, extended family.

And we are so grateful for every human in this community.

5. That Being Apolitical Was a Privilege

I was never overly political. Because I didn’t have to be.

I dipped in and out of social justice, I randomly volunteered, I voted- sometimes a Republican ticket, sometimes a Democratic- with that “fiscally conservative” mindset at times. I loved President Obama and voted for him both times, I cried when marriage equality was finally passed, I made fun of how clueless George W. was, although I did vote for him when he ran against Kerry.

I was all over the political spectrum, and often times apolitical.

Because I had the privilege to be apolitical.

Most policies didn’t affect me directly, so I was able to shrug my shoulders quite often.

This is one of my biggest regrets in life, honestly. I wish I was there for the fight more consistently long ago. But I didn’t know what I didn’t know. I made far too many assumptions.

Now?

Everything in politics matters to me. Obviously, with this administration constantly attacking LGBTQ+ rights, that’s my focus of activism, but politics is clearly intersectional. And it matters to be involved in all aspects, to understand policy, to understand the way our government works, how decisions are made, how to fight for the rights of all marginalized folks.

Being political when you have a trans kid is necessary. Because equality has become a political issue, unfortunately. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

My “political agenda” is to achieve equality and equity for all oppressed communities. My political agenda is to promote kindness, understanding, and fair treatment.

And there’s so much work to do.

6. That There’s Resources

I felt like I was a minnow in this giant ocean when my child came out. I felt like we were the only ones going through this.

We needed emotional support, but we also needed resources.

Thank sweet goddesses for the internet.

PFLAG

HRC

GenderSpectrum.org.

American Academy of Pediatrics and other medical organizations such as WPATH.

Trans Equality Foundation.

National Center for Trans Equality.

GLAAD

LGBTQ+ Youth Centers.

Therapists.

Local support groups.

Studies.

Documentaries, such as Gender Revolution.

Private social media groups.

Visible trans folks, such as Alok, Jacob Tobia, Aiden Dowling, and so on.

Other visible parents of trans kids, such as Debi Jackson, Mimi Lemay, Vanessa Ford, Amber Briggle, Jeanne Talbot, Jodi Peterson, Amanda Knox, (and so many more, many who have written books!).

So many resources. I dove in, reading, researching, watching, listening. Reading personal stories and listening to trans folks was the most impactful resource to me. Connecting to other parents of younger trans kids was a close second.

Priceless resources that I was able to alarm myself with, knock down my own biases, my own hangups.

I was able to take a giant, deep breath after I connected to these resources.

7. That it’s All Going to Be OK

I once wrote a piece about being terrified that my kid my be trans. And I was. So terrified.

Because of all of the hate and misinformation that exists in the world. Because of all of the horrible, scary statistics about trans youth’s emotional health. Because of bullying. Because fighting for equality is hard.

And it was so overwhelming and scary.

But once we leaped, we never looked back.

Because once he was OK, once he was happy, healthy, and his wings soared, it was all OK. His smile, his new demeanor, his new self, a child I never met before, showed me that this was all OK.

This was all so worth it. This was all so…beautiful.

Everything else became secondary, pretty irrelevant, actually.

It’s such a gift to parent a transgender child. It’s such an education, such a journey.

I’ve come such a long way. And I’m honored to have my son be my teacher.

I’m such a better person for it.

I’m thankful every single day that I was chosen.

Raising a Trans Child

Love is Beautiful. And Messy.

vanessavnichols

I once wrote a vignette in my journal about how being in love feels an awful lot like going for a brisk walk in cold weather.

Something along the lines of, “when you begin on your walk, out of the warmth into the cold, it feels fresh and welcoming. But as you continue on, as your lungs start to burn, you realize the cold hurts a bit. But you keep going because you know this will feel good if you pace yourself. And in the end, you’re glad you made the journey”.

Or some shit like that.

It was pretty emo.

I was 18 and I had a broken heart.

Life was oh so cruel {and dramatic} as I navigated those emotions for the first time in my life.

And that’s when I really found writing. That’s when I realized I had a creative bone in my body.

I always had to tell my story somehow, even if it was only to myself in a tattered Florida State University notebook.

I think about that vignette, though. How I was fighting to find that perfect metaphor for love, reaching to connect with how it’s beautiful and ugly all at once. Because love is exactly that. And it isn’t even definable, really.

Every love we experience in our life is complex. Romantic love, love for our parents, love for our friends, love for our children. It’s all complex. It’s all disproportionately messy and never makes much sense, yet, it makes total sense…because it’s love. The universal language.

We all want to do the very best we can for that person we love. But love isn’t always easy. It’s not a paved road.

Since my child came out as transgender a year ago, at the age of 8, I’ve received so many messages of encouragement and accolades, and kindness, and genuine support. Messages cheering me on, messages proclaiming my son’s bravery, celebrating my bravery for being public about our story, and telling me how wonderful I am for affirming my child.

Sure, I get hate mail. Often. I do. But the good has outweighed the bad.

But listen, this love, the love for my child, is just as messy as any other love.

I’m not a perfect mom. I’m a questionable mom at best some days.

I yell and scream.

I allow too much Fortnite and don’t enforce enough reading.

I let my kid eat donuts for breakfast and he has dessert after lunch and dinner.

I cuss in front of my child {not to be confused with at my child. Let’s not get crazy here.}

I scroll through my phone endlessly some nights, begging for it to be 9pm so I can stop hearing, “Mom! Watch!”, only to see him dance some dance that makes him look like he’s in some sort of convulsion.

My expectations of him are high, too high, sometimes, and I forget that he’s not even 10 yet.

I sign his daily math practice journal without actually practicing said math with him.

My tolerance for saying things more than once has long waned and I lose my shit within seconds.

But.

I’m a single mom doing the very best I possibly can.

I’m navigating this journey with my sword and my shield just jumping in front of my child, called to a battle I don’t quite know how to fight so I’m just swinging in the dark. I have my claws out, defensively postured at times, just waiting to rip into the flesh of anyone that hurts my baby.

I’m just doing what moms do.

We are a innately primal group of humans, us moms.

We fight for our kids. We support our kids. We hear our kids. We validate our kids. We carry the weight of the world as much as we can for our kids.

I’m just doing my version of love. And it isn’t anything special.

And although I realize that many trans youth don’t have a mom like me, although I realize why people send me such kind messages of appreciation, I truly believe that someday the stories of unaccepting parents will be the exception, not the rule.

Because we have the most amazing voices rising. Our kids voices are being amplified. Led by the adult trans community of voices, who after decades of oppression are continuing their fight.

We have all of these visible trans youth and trans adults and many, many parents that came way before me, and if it wasn’t for them, I would not even know how define transgender.

So, if you are one that wants to thank a parent of a trans kid for being supportive of their child, thank a visible trans person instead. They’re why I’m here.

They’ve guided me with their love for themselves, with their bravery.

They’ve led me to be able to completely discover the entirety of this beautiful, complicated, frustrating, quirky, loving, kind soul that I’m raising. They’ve led my mind to an open place so I can make sure my child feels comfortable in his own skin.

Although I’m humbled and appreciative of the gratitude I’m shown, I’m not deserving. I’m just being a mom, leading with love, and that’s a purposefully thankless job because this is what we signed up for.

All I’m doing here- affirming him, supporting him, fighting for his basic human rights so he can be afforded the same opportunities as everyone else, teaching him how to advocate for himself, to live his truth…

…that’s all just a chapter in our messy love story that we’re busy writing together, my son and I, as we pace our long walk in the cold.

Love is complex. It’s beautiful. It’s worth every step of the journey.

Life Lessons, Parenting, Raising a Trans Child, Social Media

The 10 Things People Say to Parents of Trans Kids

vanessavnichols

Last week, our school board finally made a decision to protect our trans kids in school.

It’s been on their docket for well over a year, so it was about time.

There was an uproarious school board meeting in 2016 when one of the first trans kids came out publicly to challenge the {oh so exhausted} bathroom conversation. And the conversation continued to get louder as trans students, allies, community advocates, and parents pushed for policies and guidelines to keep our kids safe.

It took quite some time and a whole lot of conversation but the superintendent finally pushed these supportive guidelines out after ten of us spoke during September 2018 board meeting, which seemed to be his tipping point. Finally. They’re on the right side of history.

It was a big win for our small, red county in southwest Florida.

But of course, the fight is far from over.

The opposition is out in full force donning all of their ignorance and hatred. All because one uber conservative school board member dog whistled for her base to assemble. They’re digging their heels in, kicking and screaming that the guidelines are “radical”, especially because they state that parental involvement isn’t necessary if a student comes out at school; the school is to respect and honor that student, (as they should since family acceptance is not always guaranteed and home can be a flat out dangerous environment).

It’s an ongoing discussion.

And because I’m a public advocate for trans rights, specifically for students in our district, I field a ton of hatred and tongue lashings via every virtual media outlet possible. Keyboard warriors unite!

But some questions I receive are out of genuine curiosity. Questions that I believe most parents of trans kids field nearly every single day.

So, I would like to dispel some myths and hopefully even squash some outright dangerous lies. Especially since the Trump administration is attempting to erase our entire trans community by redefining gender, which scientists have fiercely rejected, yet, here we are.

Here goes.

1. You Make Your Kids Trans

Sigh.

I literally cannot get my child to do the two simple chores I ask him to do in a week. I can’t get him to brush his teeth twice a day. I can’t get him to keep his clothes neat in his drawers.

I certainly cannot make him into something he isn’t.

And I know because I tried to force him into being a girl once upon a time, before I understood what it meant to be transgender. Because I really did secretly want a girl, the gender he was assigned at birth.

I dressed him in pinks and purples with bows and headbands, up until he made his own clothing choices. And even though I allowed him to wear boy clothes as he grew, trying to support his unique character, I was still rooted in the idea that he couldn’t possibly know his gender at such a young age.

I wanted to wait and see what age would bring, despite his verbiage of feeling like a boy in his mind. Which in turn, only soaked him in shame. So much so that he was self-harming at age 8.

Once we sought professional guidance, I realized that he knew exactly who he was. He began using his new name and pronouns and like magic, he was happier, well adjusted, confident, and no longer self harming.

We don’t make our children into what they’re not. We follow their lead. Not to mention, why would we sign our kids up purposefully for a lifetime of societal rejection? That defies all logic.

They were born this way. And if you need science to prove it, there’s plenty of it.

2. They’re Too Young To Make Life Altering Decisions

Referenced above, I myself once thought that elementary aged children don’t know themselves well enough to understand their gender.

Which actually sounds ridiculous as I type this out.

Because…what age were you when you realized you were a boy or a girl?

I was 3. I loved dresses that twirled, carried around baby dolls, and embraced everything else that falls into the category of the female gender.

But more so, since it isn’t about just toys and clothes, I never had a devout misalignment between my brain and my body like our trans kids (and adults) do. I was in complete acceptance of who I was as a female in a female body.

My son was drawing himself as a male character by the age of 3 or 4, imaginary playing as male characters, begging to change his name from that same age. Because his body and his brain weren’t aligned.

So, kids know. Just as we knew.

Usually the “what if this is just a phase?!” question is asserted in this same conversation. And to that I say, “what if it is?!”. Who cares? At least I followed my child’s lead and allowed him some autonomy in exploring his gender identity. It’s really ok.

Also, we cannot confuse gender identity with sexuality. Gender doesn’t have anything to do with who we are attracted to but I believe many of us confuse the two, therefore believing kids are just too young to know themselves since sexual preference usually emerges around puberty.

Oh, and a change in name and pronouns…is not life altering, but it is life enhancing for our trans kids.

3. You’re Pumping Your Kids Full of Hormones and Mutilating Their Genitals

Um. No.

This actually makes me fucking angry.

Medical professionals are a part of our kids’ lives, as in, a trifecta of physicians including a primary care doctor, a mental health professional and an endocrinologist. And this team develops a treatment plan for our kids including talk therapy, possibly puberty blockers, which simply pause puberty since that time in life can be detrimental to our trans youth, and maybe, possibly, eventually, hormone replacement therapy that aligns with their gender identity. This usually would be prescribed in the teen years, as puberty would be occurring.

And gender confirmation surgery might be discussed as a young adult. Possibly.

Not every trans person follows the above mentioned treatment plan.

Everyone’s transition is different.

But I assure you, we are not pumping our young children full of hormones or surgically altering them.

Just no. Stop.It.

4. Being Transgender is a Mental Illness

I might hate this one the most. Not because there is anything wrong with mental illness. I live with one myself (severe anxiety).

I loathe this one because it’s used in such a dismissive, oppressive way towards the trans community.

The World Health Organization historically classified being trans as a mental illness, just as homosexuality was at one time, but it is now considered a “health condition”, solely for the purposes of allowing access to medical treatments that trans folks might choose to seek, such as hormone replacement therapy, so their body can align with their identity, so they can minimize gender dysphoria.

Gender dysphoria, the condition of feeling one’s emotional and psychological identity as male or female to be opposite to one’s biological sex, does remain in the Diagnostic Statistical Manual as a mental health diagnosis, where professionals, including the American Academy of Pediatrics, have agreed that the only course of treatment is that of the affirmation model, meaning to guide them in transition socially, and possibly medically {hormones and/or gender confirmation surgery}, if diagnostic criteria has been met.

To put in perspective what that means- not all mental health issues listed in the DSM V have a cure per se, or aren’t exactly mental at all, such as restless leg syndrome or narcolepsy which are also listed. They require a diagnosis for a treatment plan but they’re not something to be undone or medicated even.

So, the only time mental illness comes into the conversation might be if the individual experiences anxiety or depression, which usually is the result of family, peer, or society’s rejection of them.

Family rejection remains high, unfortunately, even given all of the scientific data that supports that being transgender is, indeed, real. And statistics show that suicide rates can be as high as 58% when a young trans person is rejected by their family, comparatively to 4% if accepted.

And of course, most of us acknowledge that the general population remains grossly undereducated on this subject, which results in stressful social situations, which can certainly contribute to emotional distress.

So, we have to do better about educating one another. And stop the stigmas.

5. You’re Pushing Your Liberal Agenda

I’m not even sure what this means but I hear it all.of.the.time.

The way I translate this is, “we need to just ignore this entire community to preserve everything we view as ‘normal’ because it threatens the patriarchy”.

But I doubt anyone would own my interpretation.

So, what I’ll say is- ok. Sure.

Our “liberal agenda” consists of fighting for equality for our kids and for all trans people. Because they’re American citizens and they deserve some equity in society. And they need to stop being “other-ed” by society.

Our kids aren’t political pawns. They’re humans. And because they do happen to be trans, they need advocates fighting for their basic civil rights.

If that’s “pushing a liberal agenda”, yep. You’re right. That’s what we’re up to.

We prefer the term “social justice warriors”, but potato, pata-toe. “Liberal agenda” will work.

6. I Don’t Understand What it Means to be Transgender

This sounds innocent enough, innocuous even. And I’m always, always happy to educate when I hear these words.

But this usually results in people steering clear of the scary family with a trans kid. They might not outwardly spew hate, they might even do a great job of tolerating us, but because they’re not educated, they keep at an arm’s length.

Which is fine. But personally, I would rather they ask questions, even if they’re invasive.

Questions are good. Sticking your head in the sand is bad.

7. What Will I Ever Tell My Cis (non trans) Kids?!

This is an easier question to answer than it sounds.

Kids are easy. And whether you are onboard with what it means to be trans or not, you frankly don’t need to say much.

It’s as simple as, “well, little Sally, your friend at school who you’ve known as Lily is now going by the name of Dylan and will be using he and him instead of she and her. He feels like a boy in his heart and brain and so this is honoring him. Try your best to respect his new name and pronouns. It’s ok if you make a mistake. Just gently correct yourself”.

And, like magic, kids will simply say…”Ok!”.

That’s usually that.

Yes, really.

The remainder of the conversation is really up to you and how much you want to explain.

There are some great books available for young kids. And older middle and high school kids, trust me when I tell you that they already know.

Because kids are very accepting and loving.

It’s the parents that teach bigotry and hatred.

Keep the conversation simple and honest.

8. You and Your Child Are Going To Hell

I cant even with the religion conversation. And I hate the phrase “I can’t even”.

There’s so many things in the Bible that aren’t honored on a daily basis, like, hello, you’re not supposed to touch the skin of a pig? Or be around a woman on her period? And you’re supposed to gouge a man’s eyes out if they force him to sin?

Get the hell out of here. No pun intended.

But other than that, my God wouldn’t want you to be an asshole. He would want you to be accepting and loving and He will sort us all out.

And yes, God does make mistakes so don’t come at me with that shit either about Him “not making mistakes”.

We have glasses for bad eyesight, braces for bad teeth, hair color for grey aging, and so on. Sometimes, bodies aren’t perfect in terms of how we see ourselves. And trans people are no exception.

God loves everyone. Full stop.

9. If Your Child Has A Penis, They Are Male, A Vagina, They Are Female

First, the obsession with genitals is alarming. It’s very strange to me when grown adults talk about children’s genitals.

But if you must, I’ll engage.

This is fake news.

Because, did you know that 1 out of 1500 babies are born intersex, which means they have sex characteristics of both male and female, such as a penis and ovaries.

Which gender are they?

Unfortunately, for many years, doctors were making that decision and surgically modifying these babies at birth…only to choose the wrong gender in some cases. Some intersex people never even knew this about themselves. Some that do are very private about it.

All of this to say, genitals do not always determine gender. Even though many of us do identify with the gender assigned at birth, gender lives in the brain. And science, once again, has drilled down on this with research.

10. But! Bathrooms!

I know, I know. You don’t want your precious girl in the bathroom with a penis lurking.

This whole bathroom debate is a complete fallacy with zero substance.

Studies have shown that not one incident is on record of a trans person perpetrating in a bathroom. Not one. Cis men are the ones we need to watch out for. Not trans people.

When is the last time you saw someone’s genitals in a bathroom anyway? I never have. Because I go in the bathroom to do my business.

And I have news for you- you’ve shared a bathroom with a trans person whether you realize it or not. That’s a fact.

But the bathroom debate that was sparked a few years back, and just won’t die, is all a distraction and aimed to continue to the oppression of and discrimination towards trans people. There’s no other basis for it to exist.

Not to mention, when my child was still identifying as female, he was policed in bathrooms constantly since he presents in such a masculine way. Everyone assumed he was a boy and would call him out when he was SEVEN YEARS OLD.

This is unacceptable. Don’t police genitals, friends. It’s weird. It’s creepy. It’s unnecessary.

And if you’re along this line of thinking, shouldn’t you also be concerned about gay and lesbians in bathrooms? I mean, they’re attracted to the same sex, yet they miraculously don’t go around humping and molesting in bathrooms. Because they’re far more focused on peeing.

And if you’re worried about high school locker rooms and kids seeing the opposite sex genitals, our tran kids are very private about their bodies. They’re acutely aware that their bodies and brains aren’t aligned. They tend to use the stalls. And again, I never saw any genitals in my years of changing into my PE clothing.

So, please. Just take a shit, pee, change your clothes, whatever, be sure to wash your hands and exit the bathroom. That’s is all.

*******

Whew. That was information overload. But all very necessary to work through for those that need to catch up.

We are in desperate need of an education so we can see more allies rising up for this amazing, resilient community.

Our kids are the bravest of the brave and we, as their parents, are the fiercest of the fierce.

Once you break down your biases, challenge everything you’ve known in terms of gender, and get to know our kids, get to know our families, you’ll find that are all the same, navigating this thing called life. Doing the best we can.

No matter what happens in the world, our trans kids will always exist and we mama and papa bears will always love, support and advocate for them.

Parenting, Politics, Raising a Trans Child, Ranting

Why Parents of Trans Kids Are A Special Kind of Tired

vanessavnichols

Yes. All parents walking the earth are tired.

We are all absolutely in solidarity with that fact.

We could all use about a week on a deserted island without any children, technology, or responsibilities of any kind.

But I feel the need to tell you about the special kind of tired that parents of transgender kids are experiencing.

It’s different than most versions of tired.

And this isn’t to “one-up”. And this certainly isn’t to take away from an LGBTQIA child themselves, their own struggles and hardships. This isn’t to take away from, or distract from… anyone.

This isn’t a competition.

This is just to simply explain and shed light on how we’re feeling, since it’s of my belief that we, the parents of trans youth, are living in our own marginalized community.

Unless we happen to live in some uber progressive area, we are all acutely aware of the discrimination that the trans community faces. We see it everyday, especially on social media. We hear it on the news, we see how the current administration is rolling back Obama-era LGBTQIA protections.

Or maybe we all aren’t as aware as I hope we are. Maybe that’s utopian of me. Because it doesn’t matter to most if it’s not personal, if it doesn’t hit your heart.

I’m not sure.

I digress.

Although the conversation about trans folks is seemingly becoming more expansive, even a bit more accepted amongst the general public, (especially with headlines such as the American Academy of Pediatrics recent policy statement on how to care for trans youth best is by affirming them), we still have such a long way to go overall.

And who is leading the fight for trans youth?

Parents. {Mostly. But not ever to slight or dishonor our trans warriors themselves.}

And it is indeed a fight.

The pioneer parents in this fight have been visibly on the scene for less than a decade. True publicity and awareness for trans youth has really only been discussed for the last 3-5 years. And amazing strides have been made in many ways.

I, myself, just joined the fight within the last 9 months.

And I. Am. Tired.

In the short amount of time I’ve been on a mama bear, warrior path, yes, I’m a special kind of tired.

Because we are the advocates, the fierce allies, the public speakers, the meeting schedulers, the school board meeting attendees, the researchers, the therapist seekers, the medical professional seekers.

We are the ones out in front of our kids with swords and shields, fighting like hell for equality and basic human rights.

We are fighting for our kids to be heard. To be seen. To be viewed the same as every other child.

We are fighting for policy changes, locally and globally.

We are fighting for bullying protections, for bathroom spaces, for name changes, for gender marker revisions, for medical care.

We are thinking about our children nonstop while they’re at school, wondering if others are being kind, if the correct name and pronouns are being used, if teachers are abiding by our requests, if our kids are being bullied, assaulted, chastised, outcasted.

We are wiping our kids’ tears for far different reasons than that of any other parents, fielding emotional meltdowns, especially when dysphoria hits our kids, when they loathe their bodies, when they’re frustrated.

We are navigating emotional issues when their peers reject them, when they can’t find jobs, when they can’t participate in sports with the rest of their cisgender peers, when others refuse to use their chosen name or intentionally misgender them, when adults harass them, when people tell them God hates them and they’re going to hell. When their classmates tell them they should kill themselves.

We are running to doctors to treat urinary tract infections because they held their pee all day so they didn’t have to use the bathroom in which they feel unsafe.

We are sometimes not even the biological parents fighting this fight. We are the amazingly unselfish, loving adoptive parents, accepting and affirming someone else’s child who was rejected by their own family, by their own blood. Just for living their truth.

All the while, we are simultaneously defending ourselves from hate.

We are falsely accused of pushing agendas, of having some sort of “liberal” brainwashing scheme that we are somehow instilling in our children and poisoning every other child within a 100 mile radius.

We are falsely accused of administering hormones and “mutilating” our children at the young ages of 7, 8, 9, and 10.

We are falsely accused of being crazy, of making our children mentally ill, of abusing our children, of allowing them to be transgender.

We are told we are wrong.

We are told that our children are confused, sick, misguided.

We are fighting false claims coming from anti-LGBTQ+ hate groups, Christian extremists, politicians, none of whom base their claims on facts or research. We fight the ignorance and dismissiveness of the general public.

We are the educators, the question fielders, the soundboards.

We are losing friends and families, fighting battles that our children might know nothing about.

We are fighting online trolls, personal attacks, worrying about safety for our families, especially since trans women are being murdered at alarming rates.

We are also having to pack away the child we thought we birthed, the assigned gender of our child, the hopes and dreams we had tied up in that little human. Some of us are even grieving a loss of sorts that’s very difficult for others to understand. We are grappling, struggling to understand what’s happening, how our child is feeling, how best to help them.

We are putting old pictures away that are hurtful to our kids, literally packing away our memories, careful to not use their birth name, vigilant about using the correct pronouns even though it might feel profoundly unnatural to us.

We are doing an unbelievable amount of emotional work.

And we are tired.

Because none of this is for us. This isn’t about us.

Because when we have children, nothing is about us, our needs, our wants.

Because this is about loving fiercely, loving unconditionally, and loving unapologetically.

Because this is about paving the very best path for our children that we possibly can, leading with love and acceptance, working with what we’re given in our hate-filled society.

Because that’s what makes our tired a different kind of tired: our tired involves fighting hate, discrimination, prejudice, erasure, and bigotry.

Unfounded, unacceptable, misaligned hate is pervasive in our lives. Just because our kids are trying to live their lives as who they really are, without hurting anyone or interfering with anyone else’s life.

They just want to live. And we just want them to live.

This isn’t an attention grab. This isn’t a post for accolades. This isn’t for praise.

This is for knowledge sake.

This is for awareness.

Because we are tired.

And we just want our kids to be able to have the same rights, the same opportunities, as every other human.

And we won’t rest until that’s real.

———————–

Edit: I had no idea this post would resonate with so many and make it around the internet. Thank you for reading.

I’ve upset some wonderful people and I’m so sorry if you’re one of them. Please click here if you’re a trans teen.

Life Lessons, Parenting, Uncategorized

I Don’t Want To Fit Into My Kid’s Clothes

vanessavnichols

And even if I could, I won’t wear them.

:::Deep breath::::

Ok. I am writing this with complete cognizance and mindfulness. I am not a fan of mommy wars or shaming. My message is not that of judgement, but more of awareness. Read this as a cautionary tale, of sorts, from someone who has struggled with body image issues for many, many years. That is my disclaimer.

Something has been bothering me about modern day mother-daughter relationships and I am going to attempt to articulate this the best I can.

~~~~~~

I always viewed my mother as a beautiful human. Inside and out. Still do. I cannot remember exactly when I became aware of how beautiful she is but I remember hoping to look just like her when I grew up. I remember thinking how pretty her skin was, her hair, her nails, her jewelry. I took notice of how she took great care of herself and how she always looked so put together. Nothing extravagant or out of the ordinary, but she was gorgeous and I knew it. I’m pretty certain we all believe our moms are beautiful and we idolize them. Or many of us do, especially when we’re little. Nothing shocking about that.

But what I remember most, from a very young age, is being very aware of how thin she was. Not that she was abnormally skinny, but definitely thinner than other moms. It was an observation that stuck with me, for sure.

~~~~~~

When I was young, as in elementary school age, I was stick-skinny. I ate and ate and was just long and lean. People used to ask me if I even ate food at all.

Until I hit puberty.

Then I became long-ish and round-ish. I quickly became well-developed (read: size C boobs at age 12) and packed on an extra 20lbs or so above my “recommended” weight. (I use that term loosely since weight charts are complete bullshit.) Point is- I grew fast and furious, as humans do. My body did what it wanted while I continued to eat what I wanted, within reason, as I believe kids should.

I was acutely aware of how fast my body was growing in those terrible middle school aged years when all of this body image shit starts. I remember being one of the only girls with big boobs in 7th grade and the boys would say things like, “I bet you can’t touch your elbows together behind your back”. Being young and naive, I would try it, as all the boys would laugh and look at my new developments. Middle school was the most evilest of years for me. I digress.

By the time I was in 8th grade, my mom and I were able to share clothes. I continued to grow taller, a bit thinner again, and my mom, who remained consistently thin, was able to fit into my size. She was young and fun and progressive so I didn’t blame her for shopping in the same clothing department where I found mine. (Mind you, this was the late 80s so think high waisted Guess jeans and oversized shirts. Nothing like today’s style.) And, I didn’t see the harm in it, I didn’t find it odd, and didn’t think too deep into it most of my adult life.

~~~~~

Approximately a year ago, when my daughter was 7, she and and I were in the shower together. She was staring at my belly, then would look at her own and poke at it. She said, “I’m chubby. I’m not skinny like you”.

I literally stopped in my tracks.

“CHUBBY?! NO YOU ARE NOT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW.”, almost yelling.

I wanted to immediately and completely erase those thoughts from her mind. And my mind spun with how this vocabulary even got into her brain since I was always cognizant of using words like “chubby”, “fat”, or any sort of negative connotation in relation to body image since I spent several years of my adult life being overly concerned with how much I weighed, at one point even being diagnosed with anorexia. If I’m being honest, I’m still far too preoccupied with weight. However, I am bound and determined not to bring these issues into her life.

It turned out that someone at school that day had called her chubby so, on that very day, she became aware that she has a body and that we have societal views of perfection. And it made me sad. And it made me angry. And it made me reflect on my own image of body awareness and perfection.

It made me realize, I always wanted to be skinny because my mom was skinny and skinny equaled beautiful. I fault society for telling us this everyday, and I also saw it at home. I wanted to always fit in her jeans because she fit into mine and that’s how I started to measure beauty. Because as women, our measurement of beauty has no other option but to start with our mothers. They’re our yardsticks for everything so body image and beauty are certainly no exception.

Listen. (Especially to you, mom. Listen.) Do not misunderstand. I do not blame my mom for all of my body issues because we shared a few pairs of jeans in 1989. She did nothing wrong.

It’s certainly more than fine that my mom was thin and healthy. It was wonderful to grow up with a mom who valued healthy eating and fitness. It was absolutely ok. And I do not begrudge moms for taking good care of themselves, being fit, looking younger than their ages, getting botox or whatever else women do to become their image of beautiful. I.do.not.judge. I exercise, I shop in the junior department, and I even dye my hair pink. I love pretending to be younger than I am.

However.

I believe what we need to be careful of is creating competition with our daughters.

The thing is, our daughters are their own people with their own bodies and their bodies shouldn’t look like our bodies, and vice versa, even if they do indeed look similar in size and shape. When we buy the same clothes as our daughters, share clothes with our daughters, it’s riding that fine line of wishing we were still their age, almost pretending we are still their age, and being more of a peer to them than their mom. We’re forcing them to draw comparisons to us when we share these intimate similarities with them. They can’t help but compare how their bodies look in the same article of clothing. It’s a natural response to compare. These can be dangerous messages no matter how much of a bond it feels like you’re creating by sharing things.

Multiply in the additional pressures of growing up today: the advances in technology that give us a voyeuristic view into how celebs look and dress. The make-up, the lip fillers, the shorter shorts, the diet fads. Christ, the Jenner girls alone have made girls feel like they all need to be supermodels and look all grown up by the age of 14.

So, we need to be there for them on a different level. Because we’re their moms, their safe place, their rock, their elder, their role model, but we also have a responsibility to show them that beauty looks so very different on everyone.

Does this mean we all have to wear mom jeans, Polo shirts, matronly dresses and ditch every stitch of sexiness to show the hierarchy of motherhood? Of course not, but there has to be a balance and because I lost my parenting manual, I don’t know that I have a formula for that balance, but what I do know that putting an emphasis on still fitting into a jean size that I was in high school isn’t something I need to impress upon my kid, even if it boosts my ego. I do not need to create the belief that this is of importance in life. Because it isn’t.

I obviously hope that she picks up on my healthy habits- exercising, making decent food choices, good hygiene, etc. All of the things we try to pass down to our kids to make them the healthiest version of themselves, but emotionally, I don’t need her to value a body shape or size over another. Therefore, my jeans will be different from her jeans, even if they happen to be the same size.

It’s a lesson to me, too, which is really the point here: self acceptance. When I learn to do that, so will my daughter. And also? To accept the aging process, to acknowledge that a woman in her 40’s really has no business shopping at Forever 21, even if they can. Because we aren’t 21 forever. And that is ok.

IMG_1924