I woke up at 4:25 this morning and immediately opened the AJC to look at the election results. Some of my friends spent the past week vacillating between fretting over a potential loss for Stacey Abrams and trying to be doggedly hopeful so that would be the energy that got released out into the universe.... Continue Reading →
I’ve forgotten how to shake hands. Which one? Left? Right? Something that used to be commonplace–I prided myself on the integrity of my handshake–feels alien. And, well, germy. I’ve also misplaced my ability to appear interested in a conversation I don’t care about. Make no mistake: I care about many, many things. Solidly on my... Continue Reading →
Dear Trans Kids: I went outside today, and the blueness of the sky took my breath away. I stood there, feeling the barely-there burn of the sun against my skin, and I remembered deeply, on a cellular level, that the divine infuses everything. Me. You. The sun, the moon, the stars, the trees. We are... Continue Reading →
At 7 years old, my daughter, has already attended seven civil rights marches (if you count the five Pride parades she’s attended—and I do. Oh, I do.). I don’t come from a long line of activists. In fact, my parents always seem (not so secretly) appalled that I let Jane march through the streets holding signs, chanting, and generally being a rabble-rouser. But here’s the thing: Jane was born into activism.
Our daughter’s start in the world was less than traditional--conceived with donor sperm and born to lesbian parents. Then, when Jane was 4, her Bobby (Jane’s non-biological parent), transitioned from female to male. Que the crash course in gender, acceptance, and celebrating who we are—even if who we are makes us a little different.
I haven't talked to Jane about the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. How do you tell a 7 year old, who loves school above all else, that 17 people went in to school one morning and never came back out? How will she ever feel safe again, once she knows the truth? I... Continue Reading →
My sweet baby Jane came into the world 7 years (and 4 days) ago. I had some pretty naive ideas about motherhood then. I thought she'd never wear pink. (By day 4 she had on her first pink outfit. She hasn't turned back since.) I strongly opposed princesses and damsels-being-rescued in any format. (Jane's 4th... Continue Reading →
I walked in, freshly pressed in a white shirt, crisp jeans and my beloved cowboy boots. My hair, pulled up in a clip, projected a no-nonsense image. Or, at least, I hoped it did. I wanted to be at the top of my game for this meeting. I pulled back one of the folding chairs,... Continue Reading →