Updated: May 26, 2017
Originally Published: Oct. 21, 2013
I have a daughter, and she is EIGHT. Just to emphasize, she is EIGHT.
Recently, while having a casual chat with a beautician about my daughter, I was taken aback when she asked if I was concerned that my child might be a lesbian. This inquiry came after she heard me describe my daughter’s personality and interests. Initially, I was speechless, then I chuckled nervously, and finally, I awkwardly muttered that I didn’t mind before hastily leaving.
Once I was in my car, annoyance washed over me. I was frustrated with my inability to articulate my feelings and irritated that the beautician’s reaction was a mirror of what I had encountered over the years. My daughter, you see, is a tomboy, but not just any tomboy—she embodies a full commitment to everything traditionally associated with boys.
From the age of four, she adamantly refused to wear dresses. While her peers joined Rainbows, she opted for Beavers, and her Christmas lists typically feature skateboards, black skull duvet covers, and Spiderman hoodies. She prefers boys’ clothing, wears boys’ shoes, and often tucks her long hair under a baseball cap. At our 10th wedding anniversary, she wore a suit, and sometimes she asks to be called Sam or Ben. Fairy tale princesses? She doesn’t know them, but she can name all the Batman characters.
At first, I chuckled, thinking this was merely a phase. Yet, four years later, nothing has changed. Well, something has—I have.
The truth is, people often struggle to understand a girl who prefers boyish attire. I can’t fault them for that; I once shared similar views. My laughter turned into worry—worry that something was amiss, that my daughter might face gender dysphoria, and concern over what others would think about my parenting. Most troubling was my realization that she didn’t fit the mold of the little girl I had envisioned, which impacted our relationship; I simply didn’t understand her.
In my environment, I saw daughters adorned with ribbons, frolicking in Cinderella dresses with Barbies in tow, while my daughter was busy in army camouflage, face painted like a demon, and wearing skull and crossbones wellies—constantly mistaken for a boy. A teacher once mentioned to me her concerns about my daughter’s self-esteem. School dances were stressful because she refused to wear a pretty dress, and although the boys accepted her more readily, she still faced rejection from her classmates.
Then, a pivotal moment occurred during a conversation with a friend who abruptly halted me mid-sentence, stating, “Emily, I can’t have this discussion with you right now. She’s eight, and she’s happy. We can talk about real issues when she’s a teenager.” That was the wake-up call I needed. In that instant, I grasped how special my daughter truly is. She radiates joy in her skin and, contrary to what some might think about her self-esteem, she knows exactly who she is. I had to refocus on her happiness and let go of my own worries.
What if she turns out to be gay or decides to undergo a sex change? Ultimately, what does it matter? It’s far better for her to be upfront about her identity rather than conceal it. My commitment to her happiness is unwavering, and I will stand by her, come what may.
Accepting her for who she is transformed our relationship. The struggles over baseball hats, clothing, and girly activities vanished. I found myself respecting a daughter who possesses a strong sense of self, even at such a young age.
There’s a lot of discourse about daughters being “clones” or “copycats,” and complaints about the pink culture marketed to girls. Many parents express a desire for their daughters to break free from conformity, yet it can be distressing when they don’t. I’ve walked that line.
My daughter, however, has no interest in conforming, but it’s rare for people to react positively. More often, she’s misidentified as a boy. Sometimes, I correct people; other times, I don’t, because it doesn’t bother her. When I do correct, the responses can range from confusion to surprise, with comments like “I thought that was a boy.” I’ve been questioned about her potential sexuality and whether I regret not having a more traditionally feminine daughter.
A fitting comparison is Shiloh Jolie-Pitt, who faced intense media scrutiny for her short hair and preference for suits. While I may not have much in common with Angelina Jolie, I know we share the experience of trying to encourage our daughters to wear dresses while also admiring their strength to be authentic.
I’ve come to realize that at age eight, the priority is nurturing a secure and joyful child. Just yesterday, my daughter shared that classmates sometimes ask if she’s a boy or a girl. I inquired how that made her feel, and she simply replied, “I don’t mind. I’m not bothered. They’ll learn.” Yes, they will, my dear.
And just like that, I bought her a Batman bag.