I have an eight-year-old daughter. Yes, you read that right—SHE IS EIGHT!
Recently, during a chat while getting my eyebrows done, a beauty therapist asked me if I was concerned that my daughter might be a lesbian. This question certainly caught me off guard. After discussing my daughter for a good ten minutes, she threw that curveball my way. I was stunned, followed by nervous laughter and a hasty “I don’t mind,” before I made my escape.
Five minutes later, I was in my car, feeling a mix of annoyance and frustration. Not only was I annoyed at my inability to articulate my thoughts, but I was also frustrated by the fact that this woman’s reaction mirrored what I had witnessed toward my daughter for years—just more openly expressed than most.
Here’s the deal: my daughter is a tomboy, but not just any tomboy. She’s all in—100% boyish in her preferences. Since she turned four, dresses have been a hard no. While her friends were signing up for ballet, she joined Beavers. Her Christmas lists are filled with skateboards, black skull duvet covers, and Spiderman hoodies. She sports boys’ clothes, boys’ shoes, and often tucks her long hair under a baseball cap. At our tenth anniversary party, she showed up in a suit! Sometimes she even prefers to be called Sam or Ben, and while she doesn’t know about Snow White or the Little Mermaid, she’s best buddies with Batman.
At first, I thought it was just a phase and would laugh it off. But here we are, four years later, and things have only intensified. The real change? It’s been me.
People often struggle to understand a girl who dresses like a boy, and truth be told, I used to be one of them. My laughter turned into worry—worry that something was wrong, worry about gender dysphoria, and worry that others might think I was pushing her this way. Most concerning was the fact that she didn’t fit the mold I had envisioned for my daughter, and I realized this was affecting our bond. I simply didn’t understand her.
I was thrown off by the sight of girls around me in pretty dresses, playing with dolls, while my daughter was in army camo, face painted like a demon, and wearing skull rain boots—often mistaken for a boy.
One of her teachers once suggested that my daughter might have “self-esteem issues.” The annual school dance was a stressful affair because she refused to wear a pretty dress. The girls in her class occasionally made comments, and even if the boys accepted her, at the end of the day, she wasn’t one of them.
Then, a friend of mine delivered a much-needed reality check. While I was venting about my concerns, she interrupted me, saying, “Jamie, let’s pause this conversation. She’s eight and she’s happy. If she faces real issues as a teenager, then we can talk.” It was a lightbulb moment. My daughter is unique and incredibly comfortable in her own skin. As for those supposed “self-esteem issues”? She clearly knows who she is. I needed to refocus on her happiness and let go of my own misconceptions.
After all, if she grows up to be gay, wants to transition, or chooses to do anything else, what does it matter? Isn’t it far better for her to express herself openly rather than hide who she is? My priority is her happiness, and I’m here for her, whatever path she chooses.
The moment I accepted my daughter for who she truly is, our relationship transformed. No more battles over hats or clothes, no more pushing her toward girly activities, and certainly no more fights about her hair. I was finally respecting a daughter who has a clear sense of self—even at the tender age of eight.
Lately, I’ve come across articles from parents frustrated with their daughters acting like “clones” or “copycats.” There’s a lot of discourse on the pink-for-girls culture and the Disney Princess phenomenon. Many parents are concerned about their daughters conforming, and I totally understand that feeling. I’ve been there too.
But here’s the kicker: I have a daughter who doesn’t conform and doesn’t care to. Yet, people often react as if it’s bizarre. She’s frequently mistaken for a boy, and while sometimes I correct them, often I don’t bother because she’s unbothered by it. When I do correct someone, I usually get a puzzled look or a “I thought that was a boy” comment. I’ve even been asked if I worry about her being a lesbian or if I’m disappointed that I don’t have a traditional “girly girl.”
A good comparison would be with Shiloh Jolie-Pitt. The media frenzy around Shiloh’s short hair and suit was absurd, with discussions about whether Brad and Angelina wanted a boy. I might not have much in common with Angelina, but I understand the struggle of trying to get our daughters to wear dresses, and I have a newfound admiration for any girl willing to face societal norms.
Yesterday, my daughter mentioned that some kids at school ask if she’s a boy or a girl. When I asked how that made her feel, she simply said, “I don’t mind. I’m not bothered. They’ll learn.” And you know what? They will.
So, I went ahead and bought her a Batman bag.
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In summary, embracing your child’s identity, regardless of societal norms, can lead to a happier relationship for both of you. The key is to focus on their happiness rather than conforming to external expectations.