Well, here’s a lovely dilemma filed under “I never imagined having these conversations”: My partner and I have decided we need to be the grown-ups and not be so fearful for our son. Gathering wisdom from innumerable sources, we think it’s best to let our little gender-nonconformist break the ice and wear some skirts to school. My rationale comes from three arguments: What’s most important is he love himself and not feel his self-expression is anything shameful to be hidden. That he knows we always, always, always have his back and love him, unconditionally. There will be haters everywhere in life, no matter if he dresses in skirts or roots for the Yankees or has a funny walk. The sooner he knows issues 1&2 will help us all deal with the consequences of #3 and we can choose, together, how to address it all. Also? We aren’t making history, here. Boys from Arkansas to Arizona are already going to school in dresses. We need to calm the F down. But as we’ve done a bit …

Originally posted on Raising My Rainbow:
I hear from a lot of adults raising gender expansive four and five year olds. The adults are typically stressed, confused, lonely and scared. I get it. I’ve been there. Ages four and five were the toughest for us in terms of parenting a gender expansive child. I tell families that it gets better once the child can communicate his/her thoughts and feelings. Like, now, with C.J. being 10 years old and getting ready to start fifth grade, if I have a question about him, I can ask him and he can answer. I asked C.J. what he remembers thinking and feeling when he was four and five years old and I wrote it all down. I’m hoping that sharing C.J.’s memories below might help families currently wondering and/or struggling. xoxo, Lori (By: C.J., age 10, August 2017) When I was two years old I kind of liked cars and knights and stuff because that’s all the toys we had. When I got closer to three years old, I…

The Before: The After: When I became a father, one of the battles I swore to myself I’d never wage was over hair. A friend of mine's son made hideous teenage hair choices, but his mother once said to me, “My mother made such a big deal of my hair I swore I’d never do the same to my kids.” I adopted that philosophy. My mom and I went round and round about my hair so very many times. She wanted me to remain the all-American Tom Sawyer with the neatest side part and feathery 1980’s ‘do. But when I hit junior high and discovered blow-dryers and MTV, I follicly rebelled. I wanted Johnny-Depp-21-Jumpstreet hair. That meant much fuller and longer than Mom’s Eisenhower-June-Cleaver standards tolerated. So we fought for years about my hair. Yesterday, my 5yo had a bout with a pair of scissors and gave himself a haircut. I’m still apoplectic about it. Yes, I know self-inflicted hair disasters are a rite of passage for all children. As my partner said, “the only …

Before iPhones, NYC taxi drivers were reliably fun conversationalists. They still are in London. London cabbies are some of the most uniquely intelligent people in the world. They have unparalleled geographic knowledge set to navigate the mind-boggling maze of tiny London streets. And due to my lack of a cell phone, the cabbies were immediately engaging and friendly. And opinionated. After hearing our accents, three cabbies started our ride off by asking, “So, what do ya think of your new president, there?” Please…get me started. And those conversations immediately led to talk of Brexit. Every single one of our drivers voted “Britain Out”. And they were quick to talk about it. And boy do I feel schooled. It seemed to me the Brexit vote meant 52% of Brits were short-sighted and wanted closed borders; that, indeed, they were being xenophobic not wanting low-wage workers from Romania or Estonia, let alone refugees. And it seemed they were tired of having another “boss” in Brussels, the EU capital. I just thought – “What are you? Texas?” But …