As a gay man, I’ve had my share of hurdles to overcome. That only increased when I decided to become a dad. Like so many others in the LGBTQ+ community, I’ve faced discrimination, inequality and abuse from laws, churches, schools, family members and society as a whole. While progress has been made, there’s still much work to be done to protect the most vulnerable — particularly trans people and people of color.

So what can you, a straight, cisgender dad do to support the LGBTQ+ community and teach your kids to do the same? Glad you asked! Here’s how you can be a Pride ally to us all.

I’ve put together a list that ranges in scope from small acts of kindness to larger, long-term commitments. But they’re all doable, and all important ways you can be an ally to LGBTQ families. Doing this work not only helps our families feel safer and more accepted, but it also relieves some of the burdens of us having to constantly advocate for (and educate on behalf of) ourselves and our kids.

Family origins

1. Don’t ask LGBTQ+ parents how they “got their kids” — at least not the first time you meet them. Queer families are often formed through foster care, adoption, divorce, surrogacy, IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) and other potentially traumatic experiences. While many LGBTQ parents are happy to discuss their family’s origins, it should always be on their time and their terms.
2. Respect the families LGBTQ+ people have formed. Our families might include biological parents, separated siblings, surrogates, former partners (of any gender) and other chosen family members. It may not be like yours (or like anyone else’s family you know), but that doesn’t make it any less valid, nurturing or important.

Getting to know you

3. Introduce yourself to the LGBTQ+ parents at your child’s school, but don’t force it. If a friendship forms, great! If not, it’s at least nice to acknowledge them and make them feel welcome. The same goes for new neighbors, church congregants and coworkers.
4. Introduce your kids to our kids — invite them for playdates, sleepovers and birthday parties. Normalization and inclusivity help everyone involved.

Educate yourself about LGBTQ+ life

5. Do your research. Confused about trans people, pronoun usage, or the meaning of the words “queer,” “cisgender” and “GSA” in this post? Crank up the Google before asking your new friends. This falls under the “relieving the burden” I talked about earlier.
6. Read books with LGBTQ+ characters and stories to your kids. While queer-positive children’s books are becoming more common, they’re still not always easy to find or carried in many libraries. While it’s also great to introduce your kids to LGBTQ TV shows, movies, music, etc., books are often the first and most important influence a parent shares with a child. Here’s a good starter list.
7. Educate your relatives, friends, coworkers, neighbors and church congregants. Share with them what you learn. Stand up for LGBTQ+ folks during arguments or discussions. Don’t let homophobic jokes or comments go uncorrected. This is probably the most important item on this list — reaching the people we can’t.

 School advocacy

8. Find out if your child’s school has a GSA. If not, find out how you can help get a Gay-Straight Alliance started.
9. Are there gender-neutral restrooms in your child’s school? Dress code policies that don’t allow for a range of gender expressions? Find out how to help make these happen.

Pride ally & community

10. Put a pride sticker on your car or fly a rainbow or Pride Ally flag from your house. Afraid someone might think you’re gay? Take it as a compliment!
11. Don’t assume anyone’s sexual orientation, gender identity, pronouns, familial role or parental name. Listen, be open, and ask before jumping to conclusions.
12. If you feel uncomfortable about anything on this list, take some time to examine why. Own up to your prejudices and learned phobias and commit to doing better. There’s always more to learn, and always room to grow!

Lastly, remember that the LGBTQ+ community is not a monolith, so don’t assume every family or parent is the same. This list is fairly comprehensive, but by no means exhaustive. Have other ideas or suggestions on how to be a Pride Ally? Feel free to share them in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brent Almond is a writer and designer who combines parenting, pop culture and politics on his blog, Designer Daddy  He has been honored by BlogHer’s “Voices of the Year” and is a two-time Mom 2.0 Summit Iris Award winner. Other passions include advocating for LGBTQ families and doodling superheroes for his son’s lunches.

Pride ally photo: © Bogdan / Adobe Stock.

My oldest is now 10. Last year, or maybe it was two years ago, he went to a sleepover birthday party as kids do. At the time, I didn’t think anything of the fact that he was the only boy on the invite list. After the party ended, I forgot it had even happened.

I was at another birthday party a few months ago where the topic was “that party with the boy sleeping over.” The parents were sagely nodding to each other, relieved that one girl just went for the movie and didn’t sleep over. According to the group wisdom, her parents had done well.

“Uh, yeah,” I finally said. “That one boy there was my son.”

I was surprised mixed gender sleepovers would be whispered-about elementary school scandal. I honestly don’t see the risk at that age. I can imagine what parents might be worried about, but really? They’re 8- and 9-year-olds. There are parents actively hosting the party. Nothing is going to happen. Especially in our town of Berkeley, Calif., known for its liberal social and political views, where almost all of these kids have been socialized to have friends of both genders. This town is supposedly liberal and woke. My son isn’t even thinking about crushes yet, let alone anything physical.

These parents were even more surprised when I told them my mom let me have mixed gender sleepovers … in high school. The positive socialization aspect of boys seeing girls as viable friends and not just as potential hookups are why my mom, and the parents of my friends, didn’t care about our slumber parties. They knew we were friends. I’m still friends with all of them today. If we’re trying to create a world where men treat women as equals rather than only as objects of desire, we need to drop the taboos we put on their social interaction. We need to let them be friends.

There’s more, though. All your fears about mixed gender sleepovers assume your kids are straight.

Same-sex sleepovers and assumptions

Whatever you’re worried about kids doing at slumber parties doesn’t magically disappear for LGBTQ kids. Every parent I know at our school would be fine if their kids were gay, but I wonder what that would mean for their views on slumber parties. It seems like an unexamined aspect of parenting LGBTQ kids. A lot of kids seem to know their orientation at an early age and, especially where I live, they are more likely to talk about or acknowledge the existence and validity of same-sex relationships.

So if your 8-year-old son tells you he’s gay, what do you do about slumber parties? Only send him to parties with girls? Or just with straight boys? Is either really a rational approach? Should you approach things any differently than you would with your cishet (cisgender and heterosexual) son?

No. The fact is, you should trust your children to be children. And if you don’t, maybe it’s time to examine how you’ve parented them. Have you contributed to oversexualizing your children in ways that you’re not aware of?

My other question is this: If people are worried about co-ed sleepovers at this age, what does my transgender child do? Attend only sleepovers with children of the gender they were assigned at birth or with their gender identity? What if the child is gender fluid? No sleepovers at all?

My hope is that my trans child can sleep over wherever xe’s invited. And I hope those invitations come from friends of every gender.

We need to examine our own filters and realize that our fears for our children don’t always align with reality. My young son isn’t a predator, and your young daughter isn’t a harlot. My 8-year-old trans child doesn’t have internet access and is not yet steeped in hookup culture. If xe’s hanging out with your son or daughter, xe just wants to play make-believe or maybe Candy Land. Kids are innocent, and we shouldn’t intrude on that with our own fears or misguided jokes about their relationships with people of other genders. If you’re really parenting your kids, you should be able to trust them to hang out with their friends no matter how they identify.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roberto Santiago could never decide on a job so he endeavors to have all of them. He is a writer, teacher, sign language interpreter, rugby referee and stay-at-home dad. He writes about the intersections of family, sports and culture at An Interdisciplinary Life.

Mixed gender sleepovers photo: © nimito / Adobe Stock.

I thought about gender identity and all its components all day long during one period of my life. It was all-consuming. This is not how most people experience gender but for me, it kept me up at night.

That’s because I’m transgender and, before my transition, I presented in a very gender-ambiguous way. People saw me as a man or a woman depending on many factors such as context, social roles, and the person’s viewpoint. In my experience, gender is an interaction and not just a self-identity.

Two deli clerks drove this last point home one day. While I waited at the counter for my sandwich, one clerk asked the other, “Did you take her order?” and the other replied, “Yeah, he’s all set.” When they realized the discrepancy, they looked to me for clarification.

My response? “Any idea when my sandwich will be ready?”

At the time, I was comfortable with the ambiguity of my gender identity and knew that some would use “he” and some “she” to describe me.

Fast forward more than 15 years. I’m now a dad of two little ones under age 3. I no longer spend endless hours wondering, “If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to see it, is there still gender?” I started taking hormones in 2004, and gender quickly became a quiet backdrop to life, just as it is for most people. This became possible because my gender expression is no longer ambiguous and I’m unquestionably seen as a man.

My wife and I, who both identify as queer, are trying to raise our children to have an appreciation for our diverse world. When our firstborn was still being carried around in a car seat, we realized gender is one of the first things strangers ask about a baby before they dare say something about the child. The few who ventured to say “she’s so darling” only to find out we have a son were briefly mortified and apologetic.

Broadening the gender identity experience

All this swirls around my head when my 2-year-old tells me he’s a boy. He has also used the word “boy” to describe a figurine with a cowboy hat. “Where’s the boy?” he asks. He says the same thing when an older child he was playing with at the beach walks away: “Where’s the boy?” So he’s pretty clear who gets assigned this word and has not used it for anyone who identifies as a girl or woman.

When and how did my child get exposed to the idea of gender identity? Oh, right. From birth, he’s been assigned a “boy” gender and, even though my wife and I make sure his bookshelf features many stories about girls and women taking the lead, he’s gotten the message loud and clear that he’s a boy.

So he understands gender, right? Wrong. He doesn’t even know the half of it.

Gender diversity rarely entered the conversation when I grew up in the 1970s and ‘80s, but now the world is beginning to understand the vast variety of ways that exist for people to identify and express their gender.

To help you understand, let me introduce you to The Gender Unicorn:

The Gender Unicorn is one way we can discuss gender with children and give them some language to express their own gender experience.

Take a moment to plot your own gender experience. For instance, my gender identity is Man, My gender expression/presentation is Masculine, I was assigned Female at birth, I’m sexually attracted to Women and Men, and I’m romantically/emotionally attracted to Women.

We all have a gender experience. Even cisgender people (whose gender identity matches the sex they were assigned at birth) have a gender experience. Some cisgender people’s expression/presentation doesn’t align with the sex they were assigned at birth. For instance, some cis women are more masculine, and some cis men are more feminine, in the ways they express their gender. This doesn’t mean they are transgender (or gay), but they may still face discrimination based on their gender expression/presentation.

So if defining gender strictly as girl/boy is too limiting and oversimplified, how do we share these complex concepts with children?

To start, forget what you were taught about a person’s genitals determining gender. This is definitely not a shortcut — especially since you don’t know what’s in someone’s pants when you first meet them.

So what defines a person’s gender? Their brain.

“Our brains know who we are,” writes Nadine Thornhill in her blog post “How To Talk To Young Children About Gender.” “You’re a boy because your brain tells you that you are. I’m a woman because my brain tells me that’s who I am.”

Tips, resources on talking gender

Rather than guess or assume a person’s gender when you don’t know how a person identifies, use gender-neutral language. For instance, use the word “parents” in place of “moms and dads” to be more inclusive of families with two moms, two dads or parents who are non-binary (people who may express a combination of masculinity and femininity, or neither, in their gender expression/presentation).

If you are going to use a person’s pronoun, asking what pronouns they use is the safest way to avoid making a mistake. Common pronouns are “he,” “she,” “they” (singular), and “ze” (a pronoun that might be used by a non-binary person who doesn’t identify with either man or woman). You may have learned in English class that “they” should only be used to describe people and not a person. The use of singular “they” has historical roots and has had a resurgence in the past few years. It was even voted “Word of the Year” in 2015 by the American Dialect Society. Using the singular “they” or “she” to identify a character in a book is one way to expand the gender representation of characters in children’s books which are overwhelmingly male-identified, even when they are animals or trucks.

My wife and I try to use a mix of gendered and gender-neutral language to refer to our children. For instance, we might say “our boys” or “our kiddos,” or “the book is in the boys’ room” or “the book is in the kids’ room.”

I can tell you that children are much less uptight about the gender subject than adults. Twenty years ago, when I was presenting in a very gender-ambiguous way and had not yet transitioned, I was sitting in a gynecologist’s waiting room when a young child asked her mom whether I was a boy or a girl. The mom looked at me apologetically and said, “Girl.” The little girl looked up at me and said, “Oh, he’s a girl,” and continued to play. I sat there thinking, how perfectly her description fit me at that moment of my gender journey and how readily children accept non-binary ways of thinking.

Gender experience photo: Cory Woodward on Unsplash. Gender Unicorn: Trans Student Educational Resources

Author’s note: In this Pride Month article, “queer” is used as an umbrella term for people with a range of genders and sexual orientations who are not cisgender, or cis — a person whose gender identity corresponds with the sex the person had or was identified as having at birth — or straight. In this way, a word that historically was used against LGBTQ+ people has been reclaimed by us.

Instilling a sense of pride in our children is a responsibility many parents work to fulfill.

For our family, in which my wife and I both identify as queer, that includes our children being proud of their queer trans papa and queer cis mama. Together, we make a proud queer family.

During the month of June, recognized nationally as LGBTQ Pride Month, this means bringing out the box o’ bling so we can put on activist buttons and rainbow flags as we get ready to go to the Boston Pride Parade — a major holiday at our house.

This year it meant not just watching the Pride Parade, but marching in it with the Grand Marshal, whose contingent focused on the intersections of oppression and giving voice to many who were not present.

My children, ages 2.5 years old and 6 months old, are not going to remember marching at this year’s parade. They also have not yet had to answer any intrusive questions about our family and how they came to be born. They haven’t had to defend themselves against transphobia and homophobia regardless of how they end up identifying themselves. I know those days will come and my wife and I are working now to equip our children by raising them culturally queer and proud.

We believe it’s important they be part of a community in which they regularly interact with other children who share some of the joys and challenges of being raised in a queer family. These children, like mine, share the good fortune of being wanted so desperately that their parents were willing to go to great expense and effort to bring them into this world. This is why my wife and I feel so fortunate to have an extended queer family in Boston. These “aunties” have been in my life for over a decade and many of them are now raising children of their own.

Support resources for children of LGBTQ parents

Many LGBTQ people raised children before these more open days. Initially, many of these children were from previous heterosexual marriages, then same-sex adoption became more common. With the advent of in vitro fertilization (IVF) and other forms of artificial insemination, more and more babies are being born directly to LGBTQ parents. For more than a decade now, these children of queer parents have come to identify themselves as “queerspawn.” This unique identity has nothing to do with their own gender or sexuality. It’s an identity based on being raised within a queer culture — the rainbow and glitter-filled Pride days of joy along with the dark ones filled with probing questions and bullying from outsiders.

Our community now has queerspawn and a “second generation” (those children who also identify as queer based on their sexuality) who are well into their 20s and 30s. Those early pioneers often had to fight for acceptance within the LGBTQ communities on college campuses and, despite generally more accepting attitudes across the nation, many children of queer parents still feel a bit like they live between two worlds.

They also feel forgotten. The LGBTQ community often speaks about and provides resources for the parents of queer children, but rarely does it acknowledge the children of queer parents. Fortunately, children of LGBTQ parents do have ways they can find each other and the unique support they need.

The nonprofit organization COLAGE, according to its website, “unites people with lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and/or queer parents into a network of peers and supports them as they nurture and empower each other to be skilled, self-confident, and just leaders in our collective communities.”

Formed in 1990, “COLAGE grew out of a need for a kids-only space, separate from parent-run LGBTQ support groups,” wrote Elizabeth Collins, leader of the Los Angeles chapter, in a VICE article. “Because of the critical fight for gay rights in this country, many queerspawn have felt a burden to be ‘poster children;’ COLAGE provides a space where kids can discuss their families without judgment. It also gives them the opportunity to meet others in similarly unique family structures.”

One such opportunity is Family Week in Provincetown, Massachusetts. For more than 20 years, this week-long event COLAGE has done in partnership with the Family Equality Council lets LGBTQ families connect, learn and support each other. With more than 50 events to choose from, there is something for everyone including lots of programming for children of LGBTQ parents. This year’s event is July 28-August 4.

As an openly trans dad, I’m especially excited COLAGE has developed a Kids of Trans Resource Guide — “the first and only guide written by and for people who have trans parents” — and has a private Facebook group for people with trans parents.

Keshet is another national organization providing events for LGBTQ families. While their focus is LGBTQ Jewish families, their Parent & Family Connection chapters around the country welcome families of all faiths or even without a faith tradition. If there isn’t a group in your area, you’re encouraged to start your own and Keshet provides the resources and support to make that happen.

If you’re reading this and you’re thinking, “I’m not gay, but I think my child might be” then you should know about PFLAG. This national organization with more than 400 chapters around the country is committed to helping parents of LGBTQ youth become more supportive and accepting because this is critical to a child’s health and well-being.

Thank you for taking the time to learn about the organizations supporting children of LGBTQ parents. Together, we are raising strong and resilient children. That’s something every parent can take pride in.

All photos courtesy of Robbie Samuels.

When Chris and I first got married, I was charmed and amused by the notion that I, a man-person, now had a Husband.

I had a Husband while simultaneously being a Husband myself.

My inner child loved it, finding it both weird and silly. That kid voice in my head giggled: “He’s your HUSBAND? But you’re both boys!”

It was unusual, and extremely pleasing, to talk about my Husband, rather than my Partner. And waaay better than talking about my Boyfriend.

I also realized how much I enjoyed hearing myself being referred to as Husband once again, in this new chapter of my life.

When your husband calls you Husband … it’s really something thrilling. It means you have a distinctly male role for someone, a masculine presence in someone’s life. At least, that is how my old-school, straight-raised brain translated it. Being Chris’s husband meant I was the Man in his life. I’m the one who would wrap him up in my arms when he needs to feel comforted or safe. My shoulder would be the one he could lean on for support. That notion was very special to me.

(And before I go any further, let me be clear: I’m not saying wives don’t provide the same thing for their spouses. I’m really not. So don’t troll me. I’m saying that for me, someone who had lived the majority of his life in Straight World and been brought up to see gender roles in a traditional way, who then came out of the closet at age 40, there was a sense of relief that I could still be the husband I’d always wanted to be.)

We’ve been married for years now. A fascinating and exciting experience, being a Husband to one’s husband.

But not long after I realized how much I enjoyed being called “Husband,” I realized it didn’t actually happen that often. Chris and I would be at some social event for his work, or mine, and when he referred to me, Chris would introduce me by saying, “This is my partner, Seth.”

It bothered me a little, at first. Especially when I realized I sometimes defaulted to calling him “partner,” too.

And we talked about it, curious about our behavior. We certainly felt like husbands. So why did we sometimes introduce each other as “partner”?

It’s an interesting question, considering more people support marriage equality now than ever before. Now more than ever, people are down with the idea of same-sex matrimony.

We quickly realized why. It’s simple and obvious: there remain some strong beliefs out there that undermine the idea of same-sex marriage. I can’t speak to what it’s like for gay women who marry each other, but I now see clearly how some folks still react when meeting two husbands.

“They’re playing house.”

Even in our enlightened context, there’s still a pervasive belief that when two men get married, they’re simply pretending. It’s not a “real marriage” if there’s no wife involved. Gay men are simply marrying each other so they can register for flatware, decorate a new house and pose for adorable holiday card photos with their twin Shih Tzus.

“They have an ‘open arrangement.'”

Without a woman to maintain monogamy rules, men are rutting pigs who give each other permission to rut away, even if it’s just under special circumstances.  I’ve had straight people pull me aside after learning I’m “gay married,” and covertly ask, “So … what’s the agreement you guys have if one of you is traveling?” I don’t think straight marrieds are asked that question. At least, not as often.

“They’re probably just temporary.”

Because gay men are … gay men, their commitments are temporary. They’ll stay together until they get bored, and then they’ll move on. Because, you know, men.

“They’re SO adorable.”

This one seems harmless, but we get it a lot — the condescending smile and virtual pat on the head by people who think it’s so cute how two men try to be just like a real couple. How. Cute.

It’s worth noting that it isn’t just uninformed straight people who harbor all these beliefs. I know more than a few gay men who believe and embrace the stereotypes, who shake their heads in disbelief when they learn that two more of their gay friends have decided to tie the knot.

The range of responses has been coming up more often lately because of the various functions we both attend this time of year: weddings, graduations, etc. This usually occurs when we meet new people and receive the full range of fun social reactions.

I went solo to a bat mitzvah celebration recently when Chris was out of town, and found myself at the reception that evening with a ton of people I didn’t know. There was probably a healthy mix of people with varying orientations. I was mingling to the best of my ability (which I sort of suck at in the first place), trying not to hover too much around the brie. As I met other guests and engaged in the basic conversational intel, I found myself purposefully going out of my way to drop the word “partner” from my lexicon and mention my Husband as often as possible:

“What a special event. My HUSBAND sure wishes he could be here.”

“These salmon puffs are fantastic. They’re my HUSBAND’S favorite!”

“That’s so funny that you’d mention Madagascar. Just last night my HUSBAND and I saw this great Netflix documentary on ring-tailed lemurs.”

Maybe I was leaning into the word a little too hard.

A friend of mine had to pull me aside and point out that I sounded like a weirdo who was making a husband up.

I’ve been a husband to two people in my life. One woman and one man. Both times, the role has been a point of pride and honor for me. I value the role, I take it seriously, and I see it as one of the greatest privileges one can have (as well as being a fundamental human right). I don’t want to be downgraded to Partner, especially since the right for two dudes to be each other’s husbands in the first place was so hard-won, even here in California.

And I absolutely don’t want to downgrade myself when I’m around people, just because of what their views may be about gay marriage or even gay people.

But as I attend more springtime social events, both with and without my husband on my arm, I’m realizing something fundamentally important: My husband and I are husbands not because others acknowledge our legitimacy, but because we do.

We are husbands to each other because we are two gay men in love, who are committed to each other for life. We are legal husbands because, aside from all the legal and financial benefits that come with the paperwork, there is something special about having our union officially acknowledged and respected in the place where we live. For us, being husbands who have husbands feels good.

Husbands is what we are, and what we get to call each other. We don’t have to downshift to Partner to make others feel more comfortable. And we don’t need to shout “Husbands present!” whenever we walk into a crowded room just to assert ourselves. We believe in the value of marriage, for couples of any orientation who choose to embrace it or define marriage itself in whatever way they choose.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get dinner started and choose a new Netflix nature doc for tonight. My husband and I have a date.

Photo: Nick Karvounis on Unsplash

My child and I recently walked by a black woman dressed, head to toe, in purple. Several layers of purple actually, including a purple Red Sox hat. She stood out.

My 2-year-old says the word “purple” a moment later and I agree with his observation. “She was wearing a lot of purple,” I say. And then I wait to see if there are any other questions or observations, but none followed.

We keep walking and I’m thinking about how in the future the conversation will likely go past just the word “purple” and lead into questions around other differences he observed. Discussing racial differences, I’m sure, will be one of the topics in my not-too-distant future. And I know I will be much more comfortable addressing my child’s questions about the color of someone’s attire than answering his questions about the color of someone’s skin.

Opportunities for teachable moments like these have been coming more frequently of late as my child approaches his third birthday, the end of his toddler days, and begins to sort everyone and everything into neat little boxes. However, as a transgender father, I know well that our world cannot always be neatly sorted into categories. We humans, though common in many ways, are diverse, complex and challenging.

Scientific research tells us that by the time my child is 5 he will have formed his own opinions about the differences he sees in the world. As a stay-at-home dad, I know I will have a significant influence on what those opinions are, but I also know that once he starts pre-school in the fall his teachers, classmates and everyone else he meets throughout the day when I’m not around will leave an impression.

We never know what kind of impact even a seemingly insignificant moment in a child’s life can have on his or her world view. A throwaway comment about a person’s appearance or locking the car doors as you’re driving through a community of color could possibly leave an unintended mark on a child’s beliefs.

So what should we do if we want our children to be prepared to engage with peers and adults who are different in some way? How do we react to their questions? These are questions socially conscious parents ask ourselves.

Ideas to help expose children to a diverse world

• Audit your child’s bookshelf: Are all or most of the human characters male and white? Do you have stories about historical figures who are people of color, nationalities or religions? Are females in these books portrayed as capable or only as helpless? Do you have stories with different family structures (e.g., two dads, grandma and mom, foster or adoption)? Are any of the characters differently abled? Do you have stories with characters in nontraditional gender roles, such as a mom who goes to work while the dad stays home?
• Avoid stereotypes: While it’s great to expose children to your own and other cultures through books, food, language and songs, be careful you’re not reinforcing stereotypes, such as appropriating another culture when dressing for Halloween). These negative images and caricatures are prevalent, so be vigilant to help your children develop an appreciation for different cultures rather than relying on outdated representations.
• Teach beyond borders: Hang a world map in your child’s play space and use it to highlight the places where their favorite foods come from (chocolate originated in Mexico, maple syrup from Canada), where your family and friends are from, even where Disney characters are from (Miguel in Coco is from Mexico, Moana is from the Polynesian Islands, Princess Merida in Brave is from Scotland).
• Google it: Encourage your child to research their questions and then discuss their findings. This indulges their curiosity without objectifying someone they encounter who is different in some noticeable way. It also takes the pressure off you always knowing the answer.
• Take advantage of teachable moments: Children always seem to ask difficult questions at inappropriate times. Be aware of how you respond. Refrain from laughing or getting mad. Avoid using qualifiers when discussing someone’s appearance (“Yes, honey, that afro does look goodon her.”). Hushing children and getting embarrassed at their questions can lead to implicit bias as the child internalizes the message that difference is bad and not something to be discussed.
• Who’s in your child’s life?: From babysitters to play dates to birthday party invites, a plethora of ways exist for parents to ensure their child spends time with people of different genders, family structures and cultural backgrounds. These relationships will help children have a broader world view.
• Be a role model: Recognize the work to uncover your own hidden biases is an ongoing effort. Strive to always be learning and growing outside your comfort zone. Diversify your social circle so it includes people from different races, religions, cultures and socio-economic statuses. Befriend families you meet who are different in some noticeable way (e.g., same-sex couples, biracial families). Surround yourself with other people who are also striving to raise children ready for our diverse world.

None of these steps are to-do items you can check off once and be done with them. To prepare your child to live in an increasingly diverse world is a practice as much as it is a philosophy.

Photo of “Diverse hands holding hands” by rawpixel.com on Unsplash

As an openly LGBTQ parent of twins, I’m often asked, “How different is it raising your children?”

Our household must be a complete contrast from our heterosexual counterparts, right? Well, I’ve put together our household routine – let’s count the differences together, shall we?

Wake up and sing

Every morning when the kids wake up, we sing, “Good Morning, Sun.” I take off their sleep sacks, we stretch our arms and give great morning smiles. Sometimes they go on their tummies to stretch after a long sleep in the same position.

Diaper change

The kids really love their diaper changes. (And can you blame them?) Our 6-month-old daughter thinks it’s part of the best playtime ever. She loves to roll away and reach for the wipes, the diaper cream and the clean diapers herself. Once changed, the kids go into their bouncy seats while I work on their bottles.

Feeding time

I sing while preparing the daily bottles, dose out their daily Zantac (baby reflux is real!). Once the bottles are ready, it’s time for the first feeding. The kids love their first bottle of the day. Slurps up, then we burp and move on.

Tummy time and playtime

We head to the mat and gym area of the house and play. I usually sing to them while showing them a myriad of toys to touch, chew and explore. After about 15 minutes, it’s tummy time and some giggles. Oh, and some drool while chewing on the toys. A day isn’t complete without loads of drool.

Nap time

All this work wears the babies out. I set up their sleep sacks and prep the nursery. The blinds are shut and the lights turned off – a slumber haven. I swaddle baby one, bring him or her to the crib and sing that child’s lullaby. Once down, I swaddle and bring in baby two and sing that baby his or her lullaby.

And then while the children are sleeping, it’s time for me to wash the bottles, load the dishwasher, sweep, clean the bathrooms … you get the idea. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I have 10 minutes to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee … in silence.

+ + +

By now I’d bet you’re thinking, “This is exactly my life, too.” This is why it’s funny when I am asked how different parenting in LGBTQ households is. In reality, it’s exactly the same. Parenting is parenting no matter the house. We all have similar routines to keep our kids happy and ourselves sane.

Parenting can at times be seen as an equalizer, of sorts. It’s one thing that is truly universal. It can help bring us closer together and find common ground not only as parents but also as people. While we are all different as individuals, our differences are just a mere portion of who we are. As people we are way more similar than dissimilar and, when we find that common ground, we build a strong platform of support and understanding.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeffrey Bernstein, with his husband Brian, is raising twins. Jeffrey is a passionate food scientist with a degree in culinary nutrition. He enjoys preparing good wholesome foods for his family. He initially wrote a version of this for Fathers of Multiples.

So when my teen told me about LGBTQ Appreciation Day at school and that she was going to volunteer at a table in the quad, I was proud of her … and nervous.

+   +   +

This month, I am 5. In Gay Years.

I came out in March 2011. One of the things I’ve learned since then is not how to be gay (not a problem — I read the handbook, and totally aced the exam), but how to be seen as gay. In other words, after decades of trying to avoid presenting any identifiable gay evidence in my words or actions, I had to learn how to relax with my true sexual orientation, be comfortable being publicly gay, and be confident about it. I like to think I’ve made a lot of progress: holding my husband’s hand at movies, going to Pride events, discussing it with my students if they ask, and joining a Gay Men’s Chorus. Standard stuff.

Meanwhile, as I continue learning how to be visibly comfortable with my sexual orientation, my 14-year-old daughter is finding her own. She’s still undecided. I’m pretty sure she’s generally on the straight side of the spectrum, but she’s taking her time to figure it out for herself.

Last week, her school held an LGBTQ Appreciation Day. A rally and fair would be held on the quad with students manning tables representing a range of orientations and gender identities. Beforehand, my daughter told me she’d volunteered to sit at one of the tables.

It was to be the first school event she’s participated in so far this year.

Understand: my girl is a freshman at a big public school. She’s at the age where she wants to stand out and be unique while simultaneously blending in. She’s a Spotlight Girl who still wants to be invisible. She actually has anxiety attacks when too much attention comes her way. So when she told me about The Big Gay Day at school and that she was going to volunteer at a table in the quad, which meant being visible — and vulnerable — for possibly the first time, I was proud of her … and nervous.

I get that teenagers today are more progressive and aware than ever before. These kids in particular are the products of the Glee and Modern Family generation. Teen sexual orientation differences are more accepted. So surely the day would be fine.

But still.

It’s a big school. And for every kid who is either gay or a gay ally, there’s a kid who’s been taught to be a cruel homophobe by his family or friends. I had no idea what it would be like for my daughter to sit by herself at a table decorated with pink triangles. She’s always been a strong and vocal advocate for equality, but I worried that if she had a bad experience, or if a group of kids teased her or said awful things, she’d never do anything like this again.

On the morning of Big Gay Day, my daughter came downstairs wearing her “Love Conquers Hate” T-shirt from the Human Rights Campaign, her backpack festooned with buttons proclaiming “Gay Is Great!” My heart could’ve burst for her.

I was casual at breakfast. “So are you looking forward to the fair?” I asked. “It sounds like it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she said, eyes intent on the bowl of granola in front of her. This was a notable downshift from the excitement she’s displayed last night when she was picking her outfit for today.

I said nothing.

“I’m a little nervous,” she said.

“Nervous?”

“I just don’t want there to be any trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Just, you know. From kids who aren’t going to be cool.”

Turns out, we were both realizing that with visibility comes vulnerability.

I nodded and said yeah, there was a possibility some random kid would be sort of jerky, and it was good to be aware of that. But most kids were probably going to be totally fine, I said.

I had no idea if that would be true.

She agreed and left for school with her Gay Backpack over one shoulder.

I went about my own day, resisting the urge to text her at lunch to see how the fair was going.

When we both got home, I called up to her room and asked her how the day was. Her door flew open, she bounced down the stairs.

“Oh my God, it was SO awesome!! Kids were totally fine, and a bunch of my teachers stopped by my table to ask questions about teen sexual orientation and gender identity stuff, and I made three new friends, and and and and …”

She went on for 15 enthusiastic minutes, which is a long time for a teenager to converse with her parent.

That night when I went up to her room to say goodnight, I noticed the smile still lingering on her face, and four new pins on her backpack.

It was my best Gay Birthday present. Ever.

Teen sexual orientation photo via photopin (license)

My 14-year-old daughter and I were chatting at dinner the other night, and I was getting my daily news roundup about her day: school, friends, teachers, whatnot. In the course of our conversation, I asked how her friend Abby was doing. When I did, my daughter leveled me with a stern, reprimanding look.

Now that we’re into the teen years, I get that look a lot. It usually means I’ve said or done something irretrievably dumb.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you realize what you just said?” she asked with a frown.

“What? What did I say?”

“You referred to them as ‘she.’”

“Them who? I was asking about Abby. Who are you talking about?” I was clearly confused.

She then explained to me with moderate patience and only minimal eye rolling that although the friend I was asking about was biologically female, she had recently started identifying as trans. Turns out referring to this friend as “she” was a violation of said friend’s gender freedom.

“Ah,” I said, trying to keep up. “So if Abby is trans, does that mean Abby identifies as ‘he’ now?”

That got me a double combo Exasperated Sigh and Eye Roll.

“No. Abby is gender fluid. You don’t say ‘she’ or ‘he.’ You have to say ‘they.’”

“But,” I said, feeling even more obtuse, “that’s not grammatically correct. ‘They’ is plural. Abby’s one person. She’s not a group.” (Did I mention that I teach writing at a college? There. I did.)

“Dad! You just said ‘she’ again!”

“Oh, sorry. But — ”

“That’s not appropriate! You have to say ‘they’ or ‘them’ if you talk about a trans person who’s Gender Fluid.”

I couldn’t let it go. “But you can’t use ‘they’ for one person! It makes no sense and it causes confusion.”

All she could do was shake her head. The girl clearly felt sorry for me. Poor, dimwitted Daddy, her expression seemed to say.

Color me chastised.

The gender labels, they are a-changing

I finally just nodded and said OK. Our dinner chat continued, during which I proceeded to misidentify the genders of at least three more of her friends. I accidentally referred to her friend Gina as “she,” her friend Tyler as “he,” and her friend Alex as “he or she” in an attempt to avoid mistakes and cover all my bases. My daughter corrected me every time, saying “Not ‘he’ or ‘she’! ‘They’!” I got confused each time. I kept asking who’s they?, and she kept rolling her eyes so hard I started to worry she was going to detach a retina.

“God, Dad, it’s not that hard,” she said, standing up to clear the dishes. “I can’t believe you’re being so binary.”

I’ve been called a lot of things. But that was new.

I’m a strong advocate of rejecting labels — gender labels or otherwise. I subscribe to the Sexuality-As-Spectrum philosophy. But I’m now being schooled by my daughter on the notion that gender itself is subject to a broader bandwidth as well.

Here’s a fun fact: on Facebook, users have 58 options for defining their own gender, including:

• Male
• Female
• Gender Fluid
• Gender Variant
• Genderqueer
• Gender Nonconforming
• Agender
• Bigender
• Pangender
• Intersex
• Transgender
• Transsexual
• Androgynous
• Neutrois

As a culture, we still get uncomfortable at the idea of non-traditional genders. In fact, we get more freaked out by gender fluidity than by sexual orientation. Especially when it comes to our own children. Your kid sits down with you and tells you he’s gay? All good. Gay is cool now. We know how to deal with gay. Your kid sits you down and informs you that he thinks he’s Gender-Nonconforming-Leaning-Towards-Intersex? We don’t know what to do with that.

Gender flexibility seems to be the new thing. It’s the way many kids are now striking out to establish their identities and be different. Some kids are redefining their gender today because it’s the cool, edgy thing to do, and because it’ll make their parents wig.

But: other times, it’s because those kids are smarter than the rest of us, and are realizing that when we limit the world to two genders, we may be doing some damage to people who simply don’t fit into old molds. They’re on their own search for authenticity — they’re just starting their search younger than we did. And in doing so, they may save themselves a lifetime of feeling out of place, isolated, depressed and scared.

Let me say this officially: I think it’s all good, all 58-plus identifiers. I think in the midst of all the new gender definitions, there’s a landscape emerging where kids will be able to decide exactly who they are, and who they aren’t. And as a result, they’ll be healthier, more confident humans. If that’s the end result, I’m happy with a gender list twice as long.

As for my daughter herself, how does she identify? She currently checks the box marked “Female.” For now. But that may change. If it does, she’ll tell me when she’s ready. The only identity box I want her to check is “Happy.”

Gender labels graphic: By Calcavorix (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons