"What beautiful sons you have." I hear that everyday, at least three or four times a day, actually. What a lovely thing to hear, right? Yes, it is. And, here's the thing. I have one son and one daughter. Lizzie is my five year old daughter. She wears Spiderman swimming shorts and dries off with a Superman towel. She loves to play house with her dollies and she has hair that sits right above her ear. She looks like a boy. And she is a girl. Yesterday, as she thought about her upcoming school year, she said, "Mom, will you tell the Kindergarten teacher that I am a girl?" "Of course I will honey," I said.  And then I thought inside, Well you could just grow your hair long and wear traditional girls clothes, the pink ones with the butterflies on them. But then, I wondered, who would she be living for? For others or for herself? To be a girl, do you have to wear sparkled shoes and play My Little Pony? Or can you still be a girl, identify as a girl, but wear black Star Wars t-shirts and wear your hair in a buzz cut?  

Here is the issue for me. I am a people pleaser and I like to live in the illusion that if I say or do something, I can make people feel certain things. So, when this morning the nurse at my doctor's office mistook Lizzie for a boy, I said to her, "Lizzie is actually a girl." I am doing okay here. Speaking the truth, very good. Then, the nurse became a little awkward, and then I became a little awkward and I said something like, "Oh, you are not the only one. Most people think Lizzie is a boy." Lizzie stood there in red athletic pants, blue athletic shorts and a green soccer jersey, with kind of a blank look on her face. I say those things because they are true, but I say them mostly to try to save others from their awkwardness. I say them to fill the space, rather than just letting it be; letting me be with my awkwardness. Damn, it is hard to be with those feelings, particularly with people I haven't known for more than three minutes. And when I do this inane people pleasing thing, I diminish Lizzie. Being liked and keeping things benign, becomes more of a priority than my amazing daughter.

Today at swim class, I introduced Lizzie to the teachers and said, "Good morning! This is Elizabeth." Both of their faces looked confused, looking back at me with a look on their face like, Are you sure? I even heard one teacher a couple of times, refer to Lizzie during class, as "little buddy" and "little guy." I don't think she believed me. So, when I wrapped the Superman towel around Lizzie as she came out, I looked at the teacher and said, "This is my beautiful girl. She is totally herself." And she is. I am learning how to affirm Lizzie as she becomes herself. She is a girl. She is a Lizzie. She is unfolding and learning to love herself. And she is exploring many different ways to do that, on her terms. Quite honestly, the only thing I need to do is to get out of the way and simply love her.