Sarah & Ian Hoffman

Building a culture of kindness. One book at a time.
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Inviting the Resources In

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In a February post on my blog, I speculated that, after three years together, Sam’s classmates might actually be getting used to him. Used to the idea of a boy with hair flowing down his back who wears pink shirts and doesn’t like sports.

I was wrong.

Toward the end of second grade, a girl in his class started harassing him. Started calling him “girl” in a nasty tone of voice, taunting him that his name is not Sam but “Samantha,” teasing that he had “big boobs.”

I contacted the teachers, the school counselor, the principal. I said: I cannot have my son bullied by this child. You must not allow this. They agreed, and launched into swift action: a talk with the girl, a talk with her parents, a required apology note to Sam scrawled on lined paper. The message was sent: it’s not OK to bully this child because he is different.

But I’m left wondering, what makes a child start taunting a peer whom they have mostly left alone since kindergarten?

The school has been lax on gender-diversity education; after foot-dragging for years they finally offered the teachers a 45-minute tutorial through Gender Spectrum. If there had been more education, would this child have known better? If the school had really committed to teaching tolerance to faculty and students—as some schools do—would this child have been prevented from bullying my son, rather than being chastised and shamed after the damage was done?

I’d like to know.

The resources are out there: Gender Spectrum; Teach Tolerance; the Human Rights Campaign’s Welcoming Schools Program; and others listed on my resource page. So how can we get schools to invite the resources in?

Let me know what you think.

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Go Parenting! Now, go farther.

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I recently read the article Could Your Child Be Gay? by Stephanie Dolgoff on Parenting magazine’s website. It made my heart sing…and sink.

Dolgoff—and therefore Parenting magazine, as mainstream a parenting rag as there ever was—showed concern for the wellbeing and outcome of pink and/or proto-gay boys. The piece went farther than I’ve ever seen this magazine go into complex and painful territory, including an interview with Matthew Shepard’s mother and a conversation about bullying-related child suicide. This willingness to have a conversation about some of the scariest stuff parents may ever face makes a tremendous difference for boys like my son Sam.

Along with my praise for Dolgoff and Parenting, I have to point out where the article falls short.

Dolgoff assumes that  four-year-olds  cannot read the social cues that tell children what boys and girls are “supposed” to do. Studies show that children as young as two are aware of gender roles (research that can be confirmed anecdotally in the Petri dish of any preschool).

It’s also unfortunate Dolgoff believes that because a child is gender-nonconforming, he or she will be gay. This assumption does a disservice to the gender-noncomforming kids who will be straight, as well as to the gender-normative children who will be gay.  Frankly, assuming anything about a child, from his sexuality to his profession to the religion he will abide as an adult, is unhelpful to everyone.

Finally, Dolgoff’s assertion that “No matter how much he continues to like fuchsia as he gets older, there’s a good chance his survival instinct will tell him it’s not worth getting his butt kicked at school,” is the kind of statement that reinforces the culture of bullying pink boys.  I just don’t think she would make that comment about a child going to school in a wheelchair, or a black child going to an all-white school.  We need to start talking about these conflicts using different language, language that doesn’t blame the victims–or force them to choose between their identity and their personal safety.

But big picture, I am pleased as punch to hear Parenting magazine ask its readers to consider whether their child is gay. The more we as a society have this conversation, however imperfect, the closer we are to accepting what was once utterly unacceptable.

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Katana

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I was talking with Caroline, a fellow second grade mom, setting up a playdate between her son Henry and my son Sam. Henry and Sam had never played outside of school before, but recently discovered a mutual love of Wii Star Wars.

Caroline suggested Monday, but Sam had speech therapy; I suggested Tuesday but that’s Henry’s speech therapy day. We settled on Wednesday.

The date set, Caroline asked me what Sam can eat; she knows he has celiac disease and a restricted diet. Discussing Sam’s food needs made me realize I should mention that, due to Sam’s sleep disorder, he might be very tired after school, and that he could have mood issues. I told her to call me if there were any problems.

Later I realized that I hadn’t said anything about gender to Caroline. Celiac, speech, sleep, mood—they’d all come up in a few sentences. But gender was a non-issue.

For so long, gender was the only topic that came up. If a new friend came to our home, we’d have to watch the child’s reaction when he saw the pink canopy over Sam’s bed. We’d have to watch his parents for any issues with Sam putting on a princess dress. If Sam went to a new child’s house, we’d have to manage the situation if Sam preferred his male friend’s sister’s toys to his friend’s toys.

Somehow, after five years of Sam expressing his preference for pink, gender is fading into the background. This probably has a lot to do with the fact that Sam’s favorite thing to think about and talk about these days is Star Wars. Once kids and parents get to know him, his fascination with Star Wars is more center-stage than his long hair and pink shoes.

Sam’s class is studying Japan this week. They have learned to count in Japanese, have tasted Japanese foods and listened to Japanese stories. Today, their teacher put a list of names up on the board in two columns, the male column and the female. Sam chose a female name: “Katana,” which means “sword.”

Of course. A female name signifying a weapon is just about the fullest possible expression of Sam.

“Michael made fun of me for my Japanese name,” Sam reported over dinner tonight.   I was surprised–Michael is one of Sam’s best friends.

“What did you tell him?” I asked.

“I told him I just like the name,” Sam said. “He stopped teasing me then.”

After a lifetime of Sam determinedly being himself and no one but himself, is it possible that people really are getting used to him?  In our small community–and for the time being–the answer may actually be…yes.

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