parenting with grace

Or, perhaps, acceptance. I was watching an episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (which I love because not only do the "straight guys" genuinely wind up looking and seeming better, but because the Fab Five seem so truly committed to making these other people's lives better—even if appearances are deceiving, it makes for some good TV) in which the guys were making over a transgendered young man, and was struck by the grace with which this young man's mother accepted her daughter's choice to become her son. And I thought how much I hope I, in my turn, have the kind of open mind and heart that takes. How much I hope that I am able to understand and really appreciate my children for who they are and who they become, rather than clinging to a vision of them (my vision) or losing track of their growth altogether. And that they grow into people I can respect and like.

I know that I never particularly felt free to be "myself", outside the constraints I felt were placed on me. Lots of emphasis on being an individual ... but always within a certain box. You know how it is—be unique, kid. Now let me tell you how to do it. With the result that in order to find myself, I had to break the box, and in the process my relationship with my parents. So they lost track of who I was, and didn't know enough about me to judge whether they could accept me or not. My father still doesn't know me. He sees what he thinks is there (and in many cases, I think, what he is afraid is there—too much like my mother, not enough like him, too eager to accept the first thing that comes along, too afraid to stick to something long enough to be successful), and in the process, loses the things that really make me who I am. And, of course, my mother thought of my only in terms of the new chance she had to be who she always wanted to be ... in my place. I felt, as she and I got older, that if the world of science fiction were real, I might very well wake up one morning finding that she had taken my body and my life. If the afterlife hasn't cured her of her constant dissatisfaction with her lot, she may be considering that wherever her spirit is lurking now.

I hope that with examples like that, and with what I like to think of as an open mind toward other people's choices (I do find I'm struggling with a certain degree of narrow-mindedness as I get more set in my own ways—hoping to nip that in the bud as much as possible!), that I can be accepting, open to, and supportive of my children's choices as they grow older.