I really thought the great work of my life would be my work in the cannabis industry, championing a medical marijuana regulated market and now an adult use market in the state of Nevada and in other states. It was my work with cannabis that led me to Lobby Days in Washington DC, trekking up and down flights of stairs in irresponsible heels that made me want to cry. It was my work with cannabis that taught me compromise and how important it is to build relationships with government officials. It was my work with cannabis that led to the first time in my entire life where I marched for anything. Yes, with a sign.
And yet, somehow, at 41 years old I find myself reinventing my life’s work yet again. I could not possibly have planned for my youngest child to transition to a different gender. Back in early July 2009, as this stubborn baby finally chose to enter the world and join their older sister, I was just so relieved that I had delivered on the promised two healthy children to their father and I could forever be done with creating human beings. I had horrible pregnancies. For 18 long months I had hyperemesis gravidarum, where I literally vomited the entire time and was utterly miserable. Throw in that I was pregnant 18 of the first 24 months while I was creating my first fast growth business and appearing on reality TV and well, pregnancy is not a time I look back fondly to.
To today. Our youngest child decided to wear traditional boys clothing and cut his hair short starting in pre-school. They were always athletic. They were always clear on who they wanted to be. At the time I wasn’t sure if we had a butch lesbian on our hands or what. I didn’t know because honestly I had never met a trans person. Ever. If anything, everything about my childhood and their father’s childhood said trans was not right. It was weird. It was different. It wasn’t Christian. It certainly wasn’t natural. Oh 1990’s me, you silly thing.
My children have grown up in the LGBTQIA+ community. They’ve marched in Pride parades. They watched their guncles (gay uncles for the uninitiated) get faux married at a pride parade. They know fabulous lesbians. They have been raised to greet everyone with love and acceptance.
People either become who they are because of how they are raised or in spite of how they are raised. For my children’s father and I, we have consciously chosen to raise our children entirely differently from how we were raised. They have been raised with personal spirituality over bible study and obligatory sermons each Sunday. They have been raised with independent learning in the real world over favoring perfect attendance. They have watched me hire and fire folks who grew up in the era of participation trophies, so they expect to work hard for what they want in life because no one is giving them a passing grade for having a pulse.
My children are products of how they have been raised. When my oldest daughter told me she had a crush on her female friend at dinner it was a nothing burger in our family. It did not elicit dramatic reaction or even a pause. We just embraced it and carried on. So, when my youngest child chose the night before Valentine’s Day to announce their transition to male and the name “Kai” I thought it was the perfect way to celebrate a Hallmark holiday around love. From his 80 something traditional Roman Catholic Italian grandparents, whose only question was “how do we spell Kai?” To his sister and both parents, the reactions were immediately positive. Granted, I went overboard as I do with all things.
Kai has been welcomed as Kai into the world the human being he feels most comfortable being. The universe has provided the connections to ensure he has the right medical professionals in his life for the treatment he needs and he is surrounded by love and acceptance. Together we are figuring it out along the way and his transition has been an exciting new journey for our entire family. Follow along on my YouTube channel.