Do you use boy-words or girl-words or the-other-words-but-i-cant-amember-them? [Thoughts on Blank]
In that 45 second exchange Alec showed me that he knew more about gender than most adults I’ve met in my 23 years on this planet. Alec was, of course, in a unique spot, having three parents who didn’t identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. But his question, “do you use boy words or girl words or other words” (he/him/his, she/her/hers, some gender neutral option) was really a variant of the “are you a boy or a girl?” that I hear from half the kids I meet. He wanted to know what to call me. I later learned that the kids asked this question of almost any adult who walked into the house, regardless of their gender presentation. They had learned that momma’s friend, who may have long blonde hair and big boobs and be wearing a pink dress, might not use the pronouns she/her/hers. The older kids even occasionally asked a person they knew again if their appearance had changed drastically since they last saw them.
I’m dreading going home for Christmas this year. At Thanksgiving one of my family members made an ugly racist comment that really made my blood boil. I stated that the comment was racist and I was met with condescending laughter. I left the house for a while because I was so angry, and when I got back, others tried to explain to me why their racist beliefs were important, and why I should believe them too. I was so horrified I basically didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the day. Everyone I’ve talked to so far has told me “they don’t know any better”. This doesn’t seem at all adequate but I don’t know what else to do- the oldest generation of my family has no idea that hating people is even wrong. Where do you start with people like that?
Because [Resist Racism]
Because although you may hear white people claim that people of color make mountains out of molehills and exaggerate racism and look for racism under every rock, the reality is that people of color deny more racism in a year than white people will acknowledge in a lifetime. It’s a coping mechanism.
Once when I was at a hate crime seminar, the presenter asked people in the audience to share if they had ever been the victim of a hate crime or discrimination. I was fuming. It made me think of horrible, dreadful, terrible, scary, awful, vicious things that had happened, both to me and to people I know and love. The thought of sharing this pain with a group of strangers was simply outrageous. Also, it wasn’t as if personal testimony was needed to make a point. All you have to do is open your eyes. Nobody spoke, which probably lead some people in the room would infer that racism wasn’t really that big a deal after all.
On the drive home, I was still really angry. And then all of a sudden I thought of the Absolute Worst Thing. It was something I had blocked out a long time ago. For my own sanity. But the seminar was a huge trigger, and I had to pull the car over. Even as I write this now, I can hear blood hammering in my head.
But an hour prior, when I was asked about hate crime, I did not remember. Because I cannot go about my day to day life and constantly remember.
Donor reveal? [Mama C and the Boys]
Then Marcel needed more and more information, and I knew the time had come to look inside my heart, my understanding of our agreement, and to decide how and when and how much to reveal. I can tell you that the word “known” is now formally attached to the word “donor” in our lexicon. I can tell you that Marcel understands that bringing him into the world was a decision that two people made with intention and love. I can tell you that he grew two inches the moment he held that picture in his hand, and I became about five tons lighter.