My daughter, Tsara, wrote a blog post earlier this year (click on the following link to read it: Born a Girl). It is quite amazing, as is she.
Every once in a while I read something my children have written about an exchange between them and I. Always, I am amazed to discover how lovely they remember me to have been. I am relieved to be remembered in the very light I hoped they would remember me in. Blessed to discover that any time I have suffered typical mom guilt, they did not also find me guilty.
Generally, when my children write their memories, I am surprised to rediscover how seldom we remember the same events and conversations. How differently we store our past. However, in this blog my daughter has a footnote that reads:
*I’m not sure mom said that part, about being able to choose to become a boy, but I know she might have. And I remember thinking it at that time, so she probably either said it, eluded to it, or simply left room for me to consider it.
This time, I do recall that my daughter asked her question. I do not recall my answer but:
When I was a child I went to my mother with similar misinformation. In my case, I told her that I remembered being a boy and was looking forward to being one again. She laughed at me and humiliated me by bringing me in to tell the story again and again and again every time someone new dropped by. I cried myself to sleep a lot over this and swore I would be better if I had a daughter who wanted to talk about things like that. I kept my eye on the subject, and even made friends with people who were transitioning from one sex to another. So when it was my turn to be a parent I was ready.
I’m so relieved to see that I passed the test. And yes, I probably said you could chose to change it.