In preparation for the first day of school as CM, I wanted to treat her to a girlie day.
I got her heavy eyebrows threaded:
"YOU SAID IT WOULDN'T HURT!"
"I lied"
"YA THINK?"
I took her for a mani-pedi:
"WHY IS THIS CHAIR STABBING ME IN THE BACK?!"
"It's a massage chair."
"THIS ISN'T A MASSAGE. IT'S TORTURE."
I bought her a new bra:
"THERE ARE WIRES STICKING IN TO ME!"
"Get used to it, my love."
"YOU WOULDN'T LIKE IT IF SOMETHING WAS PRESSING ON YOUR CHEST LIKE THAT."
"I've been dealing with it for 30 years."
"WHATEVER."
I bought her new make-up:
"THIS STUFF SMELLS TERRIBLE." *Jumping back*
"Then don't wear it." *Walking away*
"NO, WAIT. COME BACK AND HELP ME!"
"I thought it was unbearable."
"BUT I NEED YOUR HELP."
In all of this, I realized just how much we take our gender cues from the visible identifiers. I mean, I know that but watching the transition really puts it front and center. The tidier eyebrows, the painted nails, the breasts, the make-up. I don't want to push my daughter to behave "the way a girl behaves" but I want to help her avoid the mis-gendering that hurst her feelings so badly. My husband and I dropped gentle hints that she looks much more feminine without her heavy, black-framed glasses, realizing after she stopped wearing them that by NOT wearing her glasses, she actually can't see as well. We need to hurry up and order some more delicate glasses now that we've created that problem. But, finally she seemed ready and, I might add, very feminine.
Today was the first day of school. It came with the usual panics about outgrown uniforms, changing schedules and bus schedules for our three kids. But there was a whole new catalog of things to consider as C enters high school. After dropping her at the entrance to her new school home for the next four years, my husband looked at me and said, "Well, I just dropped my daughter off at school for the first time."
He meant it as a joke, to break the tension that he was feeling. But I caught his eye as he drew a long breath with a smile. This was hard. Watching his first born march off in to high school, an independent teenager. But it was doubly hard, knowing that what lay behind those doors could make or break our child; could determine her self-worth, for better or worse, for years to come.
In the days leading up to the first day of school, C and I had the usual back-to-school talks: be kind to the weird kids, seek out the loners, don't be a doormat but be open to new experiences, and on and on and on. But this year, our talks included the district's policy's on transgender children in bathrooms (use the bathroom of the gender with which you identify!) and on bullying (no tolerance for bullying based on gender identity from students or teachers!). Our talks included what to do if she is outed (should she play dumb or take ownership and take away the power of the bully?), what to do if she feels unsafe (tell an adult immediately and/or call me or her dad), and how to handle it if her former name is called out by a teacher whose class list hasn't been updated (whether to correct her publicly or stay quiet and visit with the teacher afterward? Whether to mention this keeps happening but her name is actually C or to ignore and correct?). C took all of this in her stride - she seemed fairly confident, generally non-plussed and ready for the world of the high schooler. As parents, her confidence makes us feel better, but we can't help but hold our breath and hope it goes as smoothly as she imagines it will.