To bisexuals, trisexuals . . . piesexuals?: A conversation with my daughter

Pride FlagsMy 10-year-old daughter started singing lines from Rent at dinner last night. I reminded her to not sing the parts of La Vie Boheme that she doesn’t understand in front of other people until she asks me what they mean (if you’ve heard the song, you know what I mean).

She said, “okay,” and proceeded to sing, “to bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens . . .”

And then followed up with, “You know there’s also piesexual.”

Me: “Do you mean pansexual?”

Kiddo: “Oh yeah, that’s it. Do you know which one I am?”

Me: “No. Only you know that.”

Kiddo: “I’m not sure.”

Me: “And that’s totally okay. You don’t have to know.”

Kiddo: “And you know it has nothing to do with gender, right?”

This is how the 30-minute conversation about sexual orientation and gender identity started. I am consistently floored by the dually existing maturity and vulnerability in my child. We spoke about the spectrum of sexuality, about the differences between bisexuality and pansexuality, about labels by definition and preferred labels, about gender identity, about asexuality. And she participated with interest and composure. She also showed uncertainty, a bit of insecurity in not knowing how to identify herself. And she smiled when I told her that there are tons of people still figuring that out . . . even at my age.

This how the conversation ended:

Kiddo: “If I had to say one right now, I’d say I’m straight.”

Me: “That’s totally okay. And it’s okay if it stays that way forever, and it’s okay if it doesn’t. You are loved and accepted as you are. If you only ever like boys . . . . if you realize later you like girls too, to whatever degree . . . . all that matters to the people who love you and care about you is that you are happy.”

And again, she smiled.

***I understand that as my daughter gets older, she both needs and desires more privacy. Any conversations with, photos of, or stories about her are only shared with her explicit permission.***

#LoveWins the battle, but the fight is far from over

White HouseI woke up on Friday morning, pulled the covers back up, and tried to go back to sleep. My cat wasn’t having it. I reached for phone and blinkingly looked at the time. 10:36am. The 6am alarms had ended just a week ago. I was enjoying this whole sleeping in thing, but I figured it was probably a good idea to get out of bed.

But of course, I had to check Timehop and Facebook first. I popped open Timehop, skimmed down to 2 years, and saw the plethora of posts celebrating the end of DOMA and Prop 8. I smiled and hoped it was a sign of things to come.

Then I opened that lil’ blue icon to see that rainbows had thrown up all over Facebook. I clicked the first link I could find and read about the Supreme Court’s decision. I cried. I smiled. I think I let out a celebratory yelp or two. I cried some more. Then I proceeded to throw up some more rainbows all over Facebook.

Friday was a huge victory for equal rights, for love, for humanity. Huge. The right to marry is more than a piece of paper. It’s hospital visitation and joint taxes and social security and health insurance and so much more. I will share this piece of history with my future grandkids and great-grandkids and do so with pride knowing I stood on the right side.

I will also remind them that I didn’t stop fighting because it wasn’t over yet.

From adoption rights to anti-discrimination laws to trans* rights. The journey isn’t over. We made it over a huge mountain on Friday, but the path ahead is still long and still full of obstacles.

Let’s keep this momentum going. Let’s keep fighting. Let’s vow not to become complacent.

And, of course, let’s celebrate every victory along the way. The world can never have too many rainbows!

LoveWins 2

Image Credit 1

Image Credit 2

Here I go again . . . .

AppleI need to write. I need to rant and rave and bitch and moan. I need to plunge into poetry and poetic prose and bare my soul. I need to share philosophies and politics and emotions and life. I need to put pen to paper or fingers to keys and watch as letters form words and words form sentences and sentences form paragraphs and paragraphs form complex explorations of the deepest parts of my mind. I need to write.

I also need to make connections . . . . . with people who understand and with people who don’t . . . . with people I understand and with people I don’t. I had no idea when I started my first blog a little over 4 years ago what kind of impact those connections would have on me. I started a business with one of those connections. I’m sponsoring another one in her fundraising journey to pay for fertility treatments. Just two examples (both of which will be explained in more detail in future posts) out of many.

That first blog of mine, I shall be a toad, has been painfully neglected over the past couple of years. I post a bit here and there. Once every 3 months or 6 months. But there has been no consistency. No commitment. When this urge to blog again hit me, I considered going back to that blog. I mean, who wants to start over with no followers and build all of those connections from scratch?

Well, apparently, I do.

I’m entering a new chapter in my life. I just quit my job. I’m moving soon (a couple of weeks, a month . . . I’m not entirely sure). I started a new business. I’m breaking back into freelance. I’m about to hit the closer to 40 side of my 30s (holy shit!). Life is chock full of changes, so it’s a good time for a new blog.

And here I am. Going at this thing again. So, let’s eat some apples, get into a bit of trouble, and see where this all leads.

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