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Someone’s young child, a boy, was doing something that didn’t align with the expectations of the gender assigned to him. I remember her heartbreaking stories about being a teenage girl and having boys say “you’re not like a girl, you’re more like a buddy.” But she was a girl.Ī few weeks ago, a heard a story that I hear over and over again. When I picture the mother of my childhood, I see her in jeans and a tucked in flannel shirt.
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She was also an athletic woman who loved playing outside as much as she loved baking, flatly refused to learn how to put on make up, and loathed dresses.Īs a child, my mother was forced to wear dresses to school, because that was the rule. She was an excellent mother who regularly helped us with fun craft projects and made cookies all the damn time. When I was very young, she quit the army to be a stay at home mom, and that is how I remember her. She was, in many ways, a paradox of society’s gendered expectations, and also of what we think of when we use the word “mother.” Growing up, she was a small and compact woman, who literally seemed to never stop moving during the day. I was raised by one, a fierce woman who knew very much that she was a woman, and also that she was better than everyone else at climbing trees. It really was a wide variety of folks in multiple circles, and I am not doing that passive aggressive thing where one says “lots of people did X” when they really mean “my friend Betsy did X but I don’t want to name her.”Īnyway, because people I respected had shared the article, I figured maybe the headline was just crap and it was worth a read. If you are one of those feminists that I love and respect who shared the article on social media, please know I am not singling you out here. And this particular piece of writing was being shared by feminists who I love and respect. And I know that editors sometimes put rather ridiculous headlines on pieces for reasons of “search engine optimization” (basically, clickbait). “Well how do you know?” I whispered under my breath.īut, as a writer who writes for the internet, I know that writers almost never get to choose their own headlines.
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If you only have the time/energy to read one piece about this issue today, don’t make it mine.ĪNOTHER NOTE: I do not personally know the author of the NYT piece discussed here, but we are in some of the same professional networks, and I have read and enjoyed some of her other work. If you want to read about why that New York Times piece is a fucking problem, I suggest you read this excellent piece first or even instead. NOTE: This blog post is over 3000 words long.
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When I first saw the headline, I rolled my eyes. She’s A Tomboy” floating around the internet. So of course, I had a draft about this idea (and a fairly recent one) percolating the other day, when I saw a New York Times op-ed titled “My Daughter Is Not Transgender. So I am quite qualified to talk about being a cisgender parent, and to tell other cisgender parents that they are fucking up. And while I’m not a transgender person, what I am is a cisgender parent. Yet, this is, at least to some degree, a blog about parenting. I am not qualified to talk about what transness is, or isn’t, with any kind of authority. I am not transgender, and this is not a blog about trans issues. I feel deeply complicated about these drafts, and often have had trouble articulating them to the point of completion. I perpetually have a draft or seven in my drafts folder about how progressive cisgender parents are failing transgender children.