I should have done this years ago. I wanted to do this years ago. I didn’t. Periodically, I think about how I really want to share Noah with a greater audience. His style, his spunk, his creativity, his complete and utter lack of gender conformity. I post plenty on Facebook. Hop on a soapbox or two, post photo after photo and impose my views on those there to listen. But the more I seek out and read other blogs of families raising gender variant children, or whatever term you’d like to use to label kids such as Noah, the more I really feel pulled to share our every day life with other free thinkers…and not so free thinkers. I invite you all to come along for the ride. You might learn something along the way. So shall I. I have spent almost four of Noah’s six years defending our choices (HIS choice to be himself and OUR choice to allow him that freedom), getting angry, being belittled and ultimately feeling completely alienated by some. I have also spent the last four years speaking freely, walking confidently, educating many around us and ultimately creating a community within our lives that feels more at home than I’ve ever felt. What we’ve lost in the past four years…we’ve gained back tenfold. And I reap the benefit of watching an amazingly confident and creative individual blossom right in front of my eyes. I am proud of Noah. I am proud that, up until this point, he has stayed true to who he is and what he loves. I’ll never forget that first pair of sparkly princess shoes (you can read about them on our now defunct blog about his infancy) or that first hand-me-down pink dress he received and held tightly to for years. I’ll never forget his first ballet class…in a pink leotard, pink skirt and pink shoes. I’ll never forget the times he’s cried because those who are suppose to love him unconditionally try to change who he is. This is the joy and pain of raising a child who doesn’t want to be what society wants him to be. I’ll take this ride…and I’ll enjoy this ride.
A side note: Many of you already know, I’m a photographer. I am not a writer. I do not pretend to be. My husband is good at that, not me. I hope that what I am unable to convey to you in words…I can more than make up with imagery.