I’d like to invite my local readers to hear my friend and mentor Catherine Tuerk speak about her book, Mom Knows: Reflections on Love, Gay Pride, and Taking Action. Details about the book talk appear at the end of this post.

I met Catherine in 2006, when my four-year-old son had just announced that he wanted to take a ballet class, wearing a tutu. I’d never met another parent of a boy in a tutu, and I reached out for support. I found a program in Washington DC for parents like me, parents whose children defied gender norms. Catherine, the project’s cofounder, talked to me for an hour—about my son, about the other children she knows like my son, about her son, about society’s lack of acceptance for kids who don’t conform to gender norms.

Who spends an hour on the phone with a stranger? Catherine—and not just with me, but with each and every one of the hundreds of parents who have joined the online support group that Catherine started with Dr. Edgardo Menvielle. Catherine and Edgardo have also formed an in-person support group for parents and one for children, written resources for parents and professionals, and launched a summer camp for gender-nonconforming children and their families. Their work has sparked support groups across the country—and it’s also sparked a change in how our society views gender-nonconforming kids.

Catherine’s book documents her transformation from the unaccepting parent of a gender-nonconforming boy to the proud—and very, very out—parent of a gay man and grandparent of his three adopted, multiracial kids. It follows Catherine’s activism around the world, from American dinner parties and trailer park crab fests to gay bars and LGBT community centers across Europe, Asia, South America, and Africa. Always, Catherine is generous with her time, her energy, and her story. As she says in her book: ”It’s all about education, time, and love.” And that’s what she gives, all day, every day. She is an activist wherever she appears.

Catherine speaks not only to kindred spirits, but to closeted people and unaware people and unaccepting families. She speaks out when she has no idea if she will find likemindedness or hatred, and she speaks out bravely anyway. She knows the power of story. She inspired me to tell my story, and has inspired countless others to move out of silence and into activism. Catherine’s writing is honest and vivid and forthright, and it’s also funny. I hope you will read Mom Knows, and share it with everyone you know.

Catherine will be speaking this Tuesday, October 2, at 7pm, at Congregation Sha’ar Zahav, 290 Dolores Street at 16th in San Francisco. The event is co-sponsored by Sha’ar Zahav and San Francisco’s PFLAG chapter. I hope to see some of you there!

If you can’t come but would like to buy a book, buy it online or, for an autographed and personalized copy, contact Catherine at catherinetuerk@gmail.com.

October is Coming Out Month. What better way to celebrate than by giving a copy of Catherine’s book to yourself, friends, and family? 

This Sunday’s New York Times magazine will hold an excellent article by Ruth Padawer about pink boys, which you can read today on the Times website. I spoke with Ruth many times over the last year as she researched this story, which turned out to be a thoughtful, insightful, and comprehensive story about parents raising sons who defy gender norms. (Interestingly, her editor decided that Ruth shouldn’t feature Sam because he, no longer being a dress-wearer, was not enough of a pink boy! It’s true…he’s more of a vibrant purple these days.) The article is beautifully illustrated by Lindsay Morris’s evocative photos of young boys in feminine dress. I encourage you to read it and add your voice to the comments at the end. Many thanks to Ruth Padawer for this fine piece of journalism, as well as her generosity of spirit and open heart.

I was contacted recently by Riley Graham, a graduate student in the School of Education at Mills College in Oakland, CA, about her study: The Young Child’s Independence in Expressing Gender Nonconformity.

Riley is looking for parents or legal guardians of gender-nonconforming children between the ages two and eight to participate in the study, which is about how young gender-nonconforming or gender-questioning children express their gender identity in preschool. She said: “Your assistance in this study is very important, and may contribute to making preschool a more welcoming and inclusive place for young gender nonconforming children.”

The study will look at:

How the preschool environment might affect young gender nonconforming children’s ability to express their gender identity

How the preschool teacher might affect young gender nonconforming children’s ability to express their gender identity

What the connection between parent or legal guardian involvement in supportive services, e.g. therapy, listserv and their positive reports of support in preschool and by the teachers might be

I think that participating in this study is a great opportunity for caretakers to speak about their experiences, and potentially to make a difference as we show the benefits of family support for kids who are different.

Click here to complete the anonymous online survey. (It should take 10-30 minutes to complete; upon completion of survey, you will be entered into a raffle for a $100 amazon.com gift certificate.)

Questions? contact Riley Graham at rgraham@mills.edu.

Do you ever get the sense that things are moving?

In the last month, our school brought in trainers from Our Family Coalition, the LGBT advocacy and education organization. They also sent eight—eight—faculty and staff members to a 2 1/2 day training with Keshet, the organization working toward LGBT inclusion in Jewish life.

The school is honoring the commitments that they made last year. We are so, so grateful. And eager to see what happens next.

In other good news, I’ve finally added a book list to my website. I frequently get requests from readers about books—for themselves, for their kids, for their doctors and family members and schools. Over time I’ve compiled a list of affirming books that I think are helpful, stimulating, and often beautiful. The list is roughly organized according to age of audience—board books (age 1-3), picture books (age 3-8), chapter books (8-12), middle grade books (ages 11-14), young adult books (high school), and adult books.

As I write and speak publicly about issues of gender, I am aware that my topic can also be a metaphor for all the ways kids can be different. And so I’ve included books that address not only gender identity and LGBT families, but sensory processing disorder, race, diversity and nonconformists of all sorts, and, of course—and sadly—bullying. Whether or not any particular issue applies to a particular child, books about difference of any kind can be helpful for understanding and accepting all difference. This is why it’s so important that we not only read a broad range of these types of books to our own children, but that we introduce these books into our schools, libraries, doctors’ waiting rooms, local bookstores, and anywhere else we can think of to share them with the wider world.

Take a look at the list and see what you think of these books. If you have a book to recommend for my list, let me know! If I like it, I’ll add it to the list. 

In gratitude,

Sarah

I have been engaged in a multi-year, multi-faceted, multi-media conversation about parenting, kids, culture, and gender with my fellow momblogger Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser. Much to my delight, Sarah, mama of four kids ranging in age from three to 16, has agreed to be a guest poster on my blog today.

Sarah and I have long marveled that for some parents (parents like us, anyway) it was somehow easier to accept a pink, frilly boy than a pink, frilly girl. While the first put us in contention with popular culture, the second put us in contention with our own feminist selves. What we’ve both found over time is that in both cases, our kids—their essential selves—are the winners in this particular battle.

I’m pleased to be in this ongoing conversation with Sarah, and pleased to be sharing her writing with you.

Two Sides of the Dress by Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser

The pretty—by which I mean things that sparkle and twirl—has captivated the imagination of my nearly four-year-old daughter, who just this morning was in dancing, singsong mode: “I am a princess but I wish I were a ballerina.”

The holidays are upon us. Our fourth child is getting a pink, shiny fairy wand and a dark blue dress with silver flowers and ample skirt for satisfactory twirling. Things she might like to play with—puzzles and train tracks and games and dolls and trucks and art supplies—are already on the shelves.

Like anyone who has read Peggy Orenstein’s Cinderella Ate My Daughter, I fear the behemoth of princess culture. I abhor the billions of dollars poured into cosmetics for tweens or diets for females of all ages. I believe deep down to the soles of my small, square feet with not enough pinky toenail for polish that commenting upon little girls’ appearances feeds the notion that how you look as a girl is more important than what you feel or think or know. I want my confident monkey of a scrappy, loud girl to value every bit of her feisty, creative, smart self—not only her long hair or big dark eyes or ability to rock a miniskirt and faux biker boots. I’d even be content for her to rock the clothes if she knew style mattered only a tiny, little bit—and the other stuff, way more so.

**

Funny thing is, when I went through the same thing with her eldest brother I was unconcerned about his preoccupation with pretty. If anything, I was charmed by it. 

First, he pined for a fairy wand. Then, at his great uncle’s wedding, he sobbed because the flower girls’ dresses were beautiful and made for twirling—and his pants were not. A doting mama, I searched high and low to find him a perfect wand. When it so happened we had a cousin’s wedding to attend a month after the great uncle’s wedding, and he desperately wanted a dress in order to twirl at the reception, his papa and I thought long and hard and aloud about whether to let him wear one. Eventually, we did. It never occurred to us that no one would realize a boy was wearing the dress; in a room filled with mostly strangers, the cute whirling little person with shaggy hair and big green eyes would be greeted as a girl.

Although fairies and swirling skirts seemed reasonable to like, I didn’t realize before raising him that being a sparkle-loving boy was radical. Everyone we knew had an opinion. Some admired our supporting him to be his most authentic self. Others firmly believed we were ruining him. Either way, many were certain the preschooler was gay.

No wonder buying him that dress felt subversive and a little bit brave.

Browsing the dress rack all those summers ago, I remember a tiny rush of pleasure at finding something he would love. Especially after the endless assortment of dinosaurs and stripes and balls emblazoned upon the boys’ shirts I routinely sifted through with disdain since my boy didn’t favor dinosaurs or bold stripes or any sort of ball, that spin around the dress rack was like a little visit to the other side.

Here on the other side, the one that allows me to buy dresses without sneaking, I’m intensely aware that buying a little girl a dress isn’t at all subversive. It is, in fact, the opposite. Thus, my enjoying her beautiful dresses feels like a guilty pleasure. When the boy loved glitz, I remember thinking there shouldn’t be anything wrong with sparkly or twirl-y. Soft and dreamy, even a little bit flirty, the pretty stuff can be fun.

My boy outgrew his penchant for pretty. With the girl, pretty feels tough to navigate at three—and could well only get more challenging. Determined not to put too much attention into what she looks like, lest I feed the Disney mouse-eared princess-y beast or veer in some Toddlers and Tiaras- leaning direction, I try to refrain from commenting much about her clothing or hair or ballerina slippers. I also paint her toenails whenever she requests a coat of pink. There will be no bans on dresses or tights, no hard and fast rules on hair length. I’m trying to play it cool. When she puts the dress with silver flowers on and begins to twirl, she’ll be gorgeous. And I’ll tell her so.

Check out Sarah’s blog, Standing in the Shadows, where she writes about parenting, politics, planet, and pop culture.

I am thrilled to announce that my blog has made it onto Babble’s list of Top 100 Mom Blogs for 2011! Thank you all for being my faithful readers, for voting for me, and, most of all, for supporting our kids to be exactly who they are.

If you are so inclined, please comment on my Babble page so that potential readers checking out Babble’s recommendations know what you think of my blog.

Again, thank you. You guys are awesome.

November 20 is the international Transgender Day of Remembrance, when we take a moment to honor the lives and mourn the deaths of transgender victims of hate crimes.

Last night I attended Shabbat services at Congregation Sha’ar Zahav, San Francisco’s LGBT synagogue. I heard a prayer that was so beautiful that I wanted to share it with you here:

As the sun sinks and the colors of the day turn, we offer a blessing for the twilight, for twilight is neither day nor night, but in-between. We are all twilight people. We can never be fully labeled or defined. We are many identities and loves, many genders and none. We are in between roles, at the intersection of histories, or between place and place. We are crosscrossed paths of memory and destination, streaks of light swirled together. We are neither day nor night. We are both, neither, and all.

May the sacred in-between of this evening suspend our certainties, soften our judgments, and widen our vision. May this in-between light illuminate our way to the God who transcends all categories and definitions. May the in-between people who have come to pray be lifted up into this twilight. We cannot always define; we can always say a blessing. Blessed are You, God of all, who brings on the twilight.

We cannot always define; we can always say a blessing.

There are many gatherings in honor of Transgender Day of Remembrance going on around the country—click here to find one near you.

I just saw a mind open, and it was beautiful.

In early summer I was interviewed by psychologist Samantha Smithstein for her blog on Psychology Today, about writing, raising a gender-nonconforming child, and responding to bullying. Last week, an anonymous commenter wrote in to say of me, “This woman should not be a mother. It is her fault that her son is being bullied. Children will always bully others. It is a fact of life.”

I have three personal values regarding communication that I strive to maintain. They are: 1) confronting issues directly, 2) using critical thinking, and 3) exercising civil discourse. It’s the last one on the list that allows people to hear the first two. And so I told my facebook friends when I shared the commenters words: “Please…if you respond, be civil.” 

There were some heartening and entertaining comments on my facebook page, my favorite being, ”OK I am confused now. Was it a fact of life or your fault? Can’t have it both ways.” My readers wrote in to Samantha’s blog in productive, thoughtful ways. They explained that gender identity is innate, that it isn’t useful to blame victims for being bullied, and that children who are different are in need of parental support, not condemnation. One reader said, “You might want to do some research on gender. It’s not nearly as black and white as u might think….I really hope u look a little deeper into this issue. The best thing would be for u to meet one of these children.”

That’s the sort of dialog that encourages the changing of minds, the opening of hearts. And a few days later, the anonymous commenter returned. 

“I apologize,” Anonymous said. “I was wrong and quick to judge. I still maintain a couple of my feelings but I spoke with a couple people after writing that and I realized how incomplete my understanding of this situation was. So, I apologize. What I wrote was ridiculous.”

It’s fine if a commenter doesn’t agree with me–I don’t expect that everyone will hold the same views, on anything, that I do. And it’s lovely that Anonymous apologized for the attack on my parenting. But what was most moving to me was that Anonymous returned to civility.

There is much we can learn from each other. Anonymous teaches us that it’s possible to think things over and change one’s mind. That it’s possible to apologize, even after having had a very strong, public opinion. Using civility, Anonymous changed from a person I didn’t want to listen to, to someone with humility and open-heartedness who suddenly seems worth my time and attention. Civility is what brings us to a place where we can all learn from each other.

And on to equally inspiring matters of a more housekeeping-ish nature….the winner of her very own autographed copy of Cynthia Chin-Lee’s Operation Marriage is Sarah Buttenwieser, commenter number 5, selected by trusty random.org. Sarah writes an awesome blog, Standing in the Shadows, on parenting & politics & pop culture & the planet, which you should all check out.

Happy day!

I’m thrilled to be trading guest blog posts with writer Sally Bellerose. 

Today Sally posted my review of Operation Marriage on her blog. While I was reviewing Operation Marriage, I thought a lot about same-sex marriage rights, and about how those rights affect us all, gay or straight. But I didn’t think much about the choice to marry, a choice we can only have if the legal rights exist. Sally has written a beautiful, thought-provoking essay about the choice to marry–or not–which you can read below (the essay first appeared on the Bywater Books website).

Sally, who was awarded a Fellowship in Literature from the National Endowment for the Arts, told me that she’s thrilled to be a guest poster on my blog. But not as thrilled as I am to have her. We’re both thrilled that her new award-winning adult novel, The Girls Club, was just released from Bywater Books–it’s reviewed here by Publisher’s Weekly, and available at Amazon and your local bookseller.    

To enter for a chance to win a copy of The Girl’s Club, leave a comment on Sally’s blog. To enter for a chance to win Operation Marriage, click here and leave a comment on my blog. Winners will be announced Sunday!

Here’s Sally’s essay. Let me know what you think in a comment. And you can find more of Sally’s writing on her blog.

Grandmothers, Unmarried and in Love

Our four-year-old granddaughter Kennedy stands in our dining room with her hands on her hips. “You know, girls can get married, Memere and Teddy,” she informs us, in case we somehow missed her previous twenty assertions that her grandmothers can and should marry each other. Kennedy calls me Memere. She calls my spouse Teddy.

Kennedy is wearing the only dress I own, which she calls her wedding gown, a once bright blue, now graying, sleeveless number. Frankly, it hangs like a sack on her and is not her best look. Fortunately, with her ponytail bobbing as she hops around the room trying not to trip over yards of faded polyester, she is the most beautiful and talented bride ever to grace a ceremony. Despite the baggy dress, she looks divine each and every time she marries, which is often. Wedding is her favorite game. She is happy to marry any gender. And, to alarm the “same-sex marriage is a slippery slope” folks, she will, in a pinch, marry her beloved Lamby, a stuffed toy of dubious species.

Teddy and I have loved each other for decades. Ours is a committed til-death-do-us-part affection. Despite an offer from my beloved son and daughter-in-law to plan the ceremony, we have not taken the state of Massachusetts up on its offer to legally sanction our union.

Our reasons for not marrying are old-fashioned political ideas that exclude the State from overseeing personal relationships. My spouse and I support other peoples’ reasons for choosing to marry. We get it: when couples love each other, they often want to celebrate and have their relationship recognized. The social status of individuals belonging to a group that is allowed to marry is elevated and the financial incentives, such as greater access to health care and tax breaks, can’t be denied.

As for the religious aspect on matrimony, we don’t have much patience with people who foist spiritual views on private relationships. By our reckoning, the sacred aspect of sex, love, and coupling is all the more reason for the State to divorce itself from marriage. We have always considered the separation of Church and State a splendid idea. Few of our friends agree with us, but we take heart in the fact that our neighbors in The Live Free or Die New Hampshire House of Representatives is considering a bill (HB569) to privatize marriage. New Hampshire would not offer any couple a marriage license, but grant domestic partnerships to straight or gay couples, leaving the legal/contractual side to the State and the sacred covenant side to the religious, spiritual, or secular choices of the couple.

In May 2004, the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts ruled that it was unconstitutional under our state’s constitution to allow only heterosexual couples the right to marry, and our same-sex-couple friends began marrying in droves. It was the spring of backyard barbeques, solemn Church services, and barefoot-on-the-beach clambakes to celebrate the legal wedlock of men and women in tuxes and women and men in yards of flowing shiny fabric. These gatherings were celebrations of the queer community’s acceptance as a legitimate part of society as well as ceremonies to honor the love of the brides or grooms. It was at one of these backyard potlucks that we became aware that the choice not to marry needed support. Some of the guests were distressed by the fact that Teddy and I decided not to partake of this historic moment by kneeling at the altar of matrimony. More than one couple was personally offended. The extreme pro-marriage position insists that if a couple can marry, said couple should marry—and if the couple don’t marry, one or both parties in the couple are not committed to the relationship.

Teddy and I are pro-choice marriage advocates. We made our calls to the State House supporting marriage equality even as we continued to lobby for universal health care and tax reform that offers fair tax burdens to all. We would like all people, in and out of coupled relationships, to share equitable tax burdens, universal health care, and egalitarian social footing. Why should marital status, or domestic partnership status for that matter, have any relationship to healthcare or taxes? Why should people who chose not to marry be penalized?

With the exception of our adorable matrimony-loving granddaughter, those who insist that it is our civic or spiritual responsibility to get married merely make us dig in our secular unmarried heels. Periodically, we do check in on each other, just to be sure: “So, you want to get married, honey?” This often happens while emptying the dishwasher or right before bed after we spit out the toothpaste. So far, the answer has always been, “No, thank you, dear.”

Wedding is not our favorite game, but grandmotherly love has us engaging in activities we had not previously considered. For example, who knew that making up Pinky Stinky Underwear songs with socks on our hands and tee shirts on our heads could be such fun? As Kennedy holds up the skirt of her gown and steadies herself into Timberlake boots, I ponder the miracle of her and her assertion, “Girls can get married.” Who can deny the civil rights gain in that statement? Kudos to Massachusetts for being the first state to offer same-sex couples the right to marry.

As I watch Kennedy stomp and twirl around the living room, hugging her couch cushion bride or groom, a pillow totally unworthy of her, I am filled with familial love, gratitude, and the notion that Teddy and I might be able to have our wedding cake and eat it, too. Almost seven years after the landmark Massachusetts ruling, Kennedy, who is now using her cushy partner for a drum, is pretty much the only person left who gives much thought to whether or not her grandmothers marry. And she’s in it for the party, not the politics. Helping the kids feel secure and happy is one argument for marriage.

I’m about to ask Teddy, “Why not a party?” Kennedy could wear a fancy dress in her actual size. Her dad could be best man. Her mom could be maid of honor. Including ourselves and her other six grandparents, we’d have a little crowd. Not a piece of paperwork, clergy, or a State official need be involved. We could get a bouquet of flowers from Stop and Shop for $9.99. We must have a couple of rings hanging around. It might be a hoot. We like parties. We like attention, food, music, gifts. Maybe we’d receive a Crockpot, a new model with a removable liner that can be put in the dishwasher.
But, I get ahead of myself. Kennedy and Teddy have not stood idle while I ruminated about wedding swag. The game of matrimony seems to be on hold for the moment. My two favorite girls are under the dining room table on their backs, giggling, Scotch-taping art to the bottom of the table, the Underbelly Cafe.

The curators crawl out. I start singing, “Going to the Chapel.” Teddy and I join hands and stroll around the dining room table while Kennedy belts it out, singing into a flashlight microphone. Teddy takes the handmade doily my Memere tatted seventy years ago off the coffee table and puts it on her head. “Lovely,” Kennedy says. I grab a walking cane my mother carved during her whittling phase. Kennedy frowns at the cane, but I tap out the beat and her skepticism vanishes. After several rousing renditions of “Going to the Chapel” while promenading around the first floor, I broach the subject of marriage. “What do think, should we get married, have a little party?” I wink at my spouse. Teddy just stares at me, perhaps because I’ve never winked at her before.

She and Kennedy give each other a look. Our granddaughter explains, “You just got married.” She holds up her fingers. “Three times, Memere.”
I sit on the couch, disappointed; no cake, no Crockpot, and—one can only dream—no Dyson vacuum cleaner.

Kennedy puts her arms around me. “Memere, are you okay?”

“Yes, honey, Memere is fine.”

I’m fine, but planning. I love my spouse, but I’m a set-in-my-ways dyke. There are all kinds of gestures, ways of honoring a relationship. No State. No Church. A couple can order a lemon cake with coconut frosting, buy tulips for themselves and a wrist corsage for their grandchild without feeling coerced into marriage assimilation. A couple can waltz around the living room, unmarried, and be perfectly happy together for twenty, thirty, forty years, or more.

I’ve got an essay today up on Huffington Post—my first on the site, which is very exciting. (It’s posted on the Gay Voices page, which I suppose makes me an honorary Gay Voice, which I rather like.) It’s about Fox News’ recent attack on the family of a transgender child. I hope you’ll read it and let me—and HuffPo readers—know what you think!

Thanks,

Sarah