Saturday, August 24, 2013

How I learned to stop giving a shit and just love my androgynous kid.

I want to talk about my daughter Karianna for a bit.

She is pretty, bright, capable of straight A's, funny and determinedly artistic. She is compelled by some inner force to draw, paint, design, create. I can relate. I was (and still am) the same way myself.

K came out as "androgynous" a while back. Had a girlfriend, had a boyfriend. Wore heels and dresses, wore skinny jeans and t shirts and bound her breasts to minimize her girly profile. For her its a combination of things: music, cosplay, fandom. The fact that dad raised her up on glam and new wave, comic books and sci-fi didn't help either.

She is 15 now, and goes by "Kyle," and wants to identify as "he." I don't know if its a phase, or an act, or a permanent life pattern, and I don't really care. All of the things that make K special are gender-pointless, anyway. The FUD is besides the point. I love my kid. He is awesome. His little brother -- a force of nature in his own right -- looks up to him no matter which face he is wearing. He brings joy and fills my house with art. What more can I hope for?

I want my children to be happy. To give and receive LOVE from the universe-at-large no matter where the journey takes them, always.

Everything else is kosplay.