As she learned how to navigate the mores and behaviors of being identified as a girl, my daughter started to share some of her own observations about equity and discrimination. We encouraged our sons to consider the privileges offered American boys.
When we returned to the United States, I paused to absorb the enormity of knowing my daughter will endure a struggle in society that puts her at an increased risk of hurt, humiliation, depression, addiction, and death. Transphobia will deprive her of employment, housing, healthcare, and other opportunities most people take for granted.
When it was my turn to step off the airplane at the end of the summer, I asked: “How would you like me to introduce you?”
She looked up at me and courageously said, “Mom, I’m a girl. I’m just too tired to try acting like a boy anymore.”
That evening, we went to a family wedding. My daughter wore one of my dresses and walked into the reception nervously clenching my hand. After a moment of hesitation, she smiled and ran to the dance floor. As the evening progressed, her confidence soared.
As if I just gave birth to her, I fell in love all over again and slowly said goodbye to my oldest son.
Last week we boarded another plane, this time to Washington, D.C. I wanted to encourage my hopeful and brave daughter to use her own voice to help the transgender community. We were at the Women’s March on Jan. 19 as two women, together.