One afternoon, my 5-year-old looked at me with faith in their eyes and asked, “But I can’t wear a dress, right?” In that moment, I realized most of what I needed to say.
I knew it could either shape their assurance or take something away from them. I smiled and said, “Of course you can. Anyone can wear a dress.”
I found a pink sundress in my closet and handed it to them. They wore it for weeks, only taking it off at night. Soon, they wanted to try makeup. They’d always looked me closely when I put it on, so I bought them a little glitter eyeshadow. They spun in the backyard in their dress, face shining, so full of happiness.
At first, my husband and I didn’t have the right words for what being non-binary meant. We just supposed had a boy who liked dresses, and we wanted to protect that joy. Some days they wore dresses, other days not, but it was clear this wasn’t just play, it was part of who they were.
When “Queer Eye” came out, my child saw Jonathan Van Ness, confident and happy in dresses, and something struck inside them. I saw how much representation matters for kids like mine. They wanted to share their own story so other children would feel less alone.
One day, they told me quietly, “I think I want to use both they/them and he/him pronouns.” I agreed suddenly. From then on, we had two boys and one “sometimes boy, sometimes neither.” They kept their long hair, loved makeup, and often chose the “girls” section when shopping.
Not everyone understood. Some family members couldn’t take it and even stopped talking to us. It hurt, but I right-hand my child’s understanding of themselves.
Later, we found another show, “She-Ra and the Princesses of Power,” with a non-binary charm. Seeing themselves reflected in stories gave my child a deep sense of belonging. I realized this isn’t just about visibility, it’s about repeating the world that LGBTQIA+ people have always been part of our history and deserve to be seen.
For vanity Month, at my child’s request, we shared their pronouns with friends and family. Many stayed silent, and my child noticed. Still, we focus on what matters most, they are safe, loved, and accepted at home.
No matter how the world treats them, they know they have a place where they belong completely. And that’s the greatest gift I can give them.
