In early 2018 I published a book co-authored by my youngest son, Damian Jack. You can find it on Amazon—it’s entitled, I Think: How Thinking Like a Kid Can Change Your Life, by Amy Lee Ellowitz and “Birthname.” You read that right. Damian and I wrote the book before he began his transition. A few weeks after the release of our book, we attended a family wedding. It would be the last time Damian wore a dress. I had picked out a simple but classic navy dress. Together we went shopping for shoes and decided on a gold pair with block heels. The day of the wedding, I recall witnessing an air of poise and grace about him in the way that we tend to present ourselves a bit different when we “dress up.” He did not appear to be uncomfortable and did not complain about wearing that dress. Not long after the wedding, Damian implored me to cut his hair very short. This was a big deal to many people because D had the sort of hair most women envy—a thick mane of long, coarse, incredibly kinky ringlets. I urged him to think about his decision for a couple of weeks, which he did, but ultimately, I cut his hair the way he wanted. I will not soon forget how he got up from the chair and walked away without so much as a glance back at the mound of hair on the floor. In that moment, it was clear to me that a literal weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His gait possessed an immediate sense of purpose and confidence. “Is there something I should know?” my oldest daughter Hannah asked when she saw D’s hair. “Nope,” I replied and said little else. At the time, I had an inkling based on prior conversations and D’s behavior. But it was not my story to tell. Damian tells me now is the time.

One thing Damian and I love to do together is ride our bikes to a local beachside café and “crack open a cold one,” (his words). With Rosé for me and a Coke for him, we sit facing the ocean, chatting. It was in that particular setting that Damian came out to me as a transgender boy. Anyone who knows me well will tell you that I am the sort of person who remembers intricate minutiae related to past events. Oddly, Damian had to remind me where we were the day he came out to me. I don’t remember because I don’t perceive that moment to be Earth-shattering, like the way I recall where I was on 9/11, or where I watched each of the Royal Weddings. To me, our moment was simply a privilege—an exquisite, intimate moment listening to my baby speak with courage, candor, and great pride about a personal evolution that many people actively resist or worse, hide completely, for fear of being shunned in the worst way imaginable. D later told me that I was “7000 percent the right person to tell” because I am so “open and accepting.” But don’t let Damian’s remark fool you into thinking I have managed this journey flawlessly. That is a story for another time.

Summer rolled around shortly after what will forever be known as “the haircut.” There are no coincidences. Damian was enrolled in the same Jewish sleepaway camp Hannah had attended several years earlier but true to the serendipity my family experiences on a regular basis, the camp had tweaked its name and branding to reflect its mission of inclusion. The camp website reads,

“We want you to be YOU! At [ camp], there’s never a reason for campers to be anyone other than their true selves. No matter who they are, our kids are both celebrated and challenged in ways that help them grow into amazing human beings.”

I could not have chosen a better summer camp for my child. While he was away at camp, Damian insisted on using his chosen name and pronouns. The camp certainly lived up to its mission. From the moment we arrived, Damian was embraced unconditionally by both staff and fellow campers. This continued throughout his four-week stay. I felt blessed. I confided D’s transition to my closest friends. Nary a single one batted an eye when I shared the news. One friend even wrote to Damian while he was away at camp. I joined a closed Facebook group for support and guidance from other more seasoned parents of trans kids. With my boyfriend by my side, I dove into information-gathering mode. “My goal is to become the best version of myself through my efforts to support Damian,” was my beloved’s initial comment. Together we poured over articles and documentaries, attended lectures, and discovered the 113-page document published via the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH),which outlines globally accepted standards of care for Transsexual, Transgender, and Gender Nonconforming individuals. We have spent hours upon hours in dialogue processing what we’re learning. Our search typically leaves us with far more questions than answers. Pundits and lay people alike are learning as we go, but it is worth noting that preliminary anatomical research has found that the brains of trans people bear a greater resemblance to those of cisgender* people who share the trans subjects’ gender than to those of the same natal sex.

*a person whose sense of personal identity and gender corresponds with their birth sex.

From the outset, I have cautioned Damian that his personal journey carries with it an obligation to inspire others to stretch the limits of their respective comfort zones. So, my twelve-year-old has unwittingly assumed the role of trailblazer—setting an example for others with respect to how to be a good human and how to treat others. Transgender policy issues are akin to the Wild West. And because we typically fear what we are unfamiliar with, the greatest downside to treading uncharted waters is that acquaintances and community members unfamiliar with the inherent struggles of a trans person tend to make troubling remarks and judgement calls. One particular teacher still refuses to call my son Damian, despite being admonished by school administration. But Damian is an old soul and he always has been. It is why I felt compelled to write and publish our book—to illuminate my child’s inner strength and courage, both of which have been evident from a young age. He shall continue to rise to the occasion as he always has—with the support of our fiercely loyal and loving tribe. I have seen so much love, light, and strength grow within my community as a result of Damian living a confident, fearless existence. I have also become privy to a few who have shown me their gross level of discrimination—so be it. I refuse to allow D’s light to become extinguished—stripped away by the ignorance of others. Even though it has been arduous at times, Damian’s path has been a true blessing for my family and my community. The bond within our community has been strengthened. We have collectively rallied around my boy because it is impossible to hate what you already love, and Damian is just so damn lovable. We need more Damians—individuals who 1) love themselves (and others) unconditionally and, 2). speak their truth and make no apology for doing so. My immediate family has been challenged in a myriad of ways, but the challenges have led to personal growth within each of us. What I have observed is that those who are incapable of loving and accepting Damian (or someone like him) seem to lack true love and respect for themselves—they simply have nothing to give. My kids and I have no obligation to change the closed minds of others and we refuse to squander any of our energy trying. My tribe of four subscribes to the notion that we that we reap what we sow, so we continue to sow love, peace and strength as often as possible—even to those with whom we do not agree. For years I have told my children that everyone deserves at least the basic level of courtesy you would display toward that total stranger in front of you in line at the post office. So instead we save our strength for things that truly matter, like connecting with those who love us and rallying around my courageous young son who came to this world knowing what many grownups seem to have forgotten or have discarded; 1) that we lead best by example, 2) that we have no right to judge, and 3) that we are happiest when supporting others.

May the New Year bring you plenty of opportunities to lead, keep an open heart, and be a source of support to those you love.