Fear

Oh my gosh I LOVE Facebook memories. Who doesn't? I think someone like me in her mid-40's especially does! As Hadley says, "Mommy has short-term memory loss." 

Today, this picture showed up in my Facebook memories.

See, without Facebook reminding me why I posted this, I would have thought, "What a beautiful day. We were eating outside. How nice. I love eating outside. And look how cute she is." 

But this was the caption: 

"I am so proud of this girl for facing one of her biggest fears. She is so afraid of being somewhere where people don’t know her and having to tell them she’s a girl and seeing their reaction and hearing them apologize over and over. She tried out for girls’ Eagles where no one knew her, cried a little, but came out feeling awesome."

So, I remember. Travel soccer tryouts. She knew no one. Scary for any kid, yes, unless you have that one rare kid that is extroverted and goes around introducing themselves to other kids and their parents. I have always envied that kid.

On the day of soccer tryouts, Hadley said, "I'm really scared. I don't think I want to try out."

"Why not? You love soccer! You're so good at it, too! Why are you scared?" I asked her. Then, it hit me.

"Are you scared, because people don't know you and they might think you're a boy?" Along with a nod, here came the tears.

I remember a birthday party when Hadley was five. She knew the birthday girl, but she didn't know the other kids there. Hadley had short hair and wore boy clothes, and she was aware that strangers thought she was a boy. It didn't bother her when they called her "he" or said I had a "cute boy." It still doesn't bother her.

One of the little girls walked up and said, "Does he want to come with me to the play set?" I looked at Hadley and said, "Do you?" She nodded her head.

I said, "Okay. She's a girl. She just has short hair."

The little girl corrected me. "No, he's a BOY."

"Well," I said, in a sweet voice. "She's a GIRL. She just has short hair."

"No, he's a BOY."

I am not into arguing with anyone, much less a five-year-old, so I just said,

"Okay, go play," and both girls hopped away.

I remember Hadley coming home from kindergarten one day upset, saying some fourth grade girls were in the bathroom and said she was in the wrong bathroom. She didn't know what to do, so she left the bathroom.

Another day, a custodian told her she was going to the wrong bathroom, so she just didn't go to the bathroom.

My husband and I constantly reminded her that "You are a girl. You go to the correct bathroom. If anyone says anything, you tell them you are a girl." That's easy for us adults to say, but for a kindergartener in a school of "bigger kids," it's terrifying. Luckily, in elementary school, the kids all go to the bathroom at scheduled times, so Hadley found some comfort in being in the bathroom with other classmates that would say,

"That's Hadley. She's a girl."

One time in second grade, Hadley went to a Charlotte Hornets game with a friend. I explained to the mom that Hadley was really nervous about going to the bathroom in public, because people think she is a boy in the girls' restroom. The mom said she would go with her and make sure she wasn't alone, which she was going to do anyway. I reassured Hadley of this and made sure she understood.

When she returned home late that night, her pants were wet. She started crying.

"I just couldn't hold it the whole time, and I didn't want to go to the bathroom!"

Any time Hadley has attended a new summer camp or event where boys and girls will be separated into lines or groups or have to use the bathroom, there comes the worry. It always goes something like this:

"I'm just scared. Will you talk to them and explain I'm a girl?"

So, every time, I explain that Hadley is a girl with short hair and has a fear of using the bathroom and being told she is in the wrong bathroom or wrong line.

I recently found out that she wasn't using the bathroom AT ALL in third grade at school. I had assumed the school anxiety had dissolved, since she had been with the same kids for years. Not so much.

I also noticed that every time we went to gymnastics, she would say,

"I'm going to use the bathroom. I always use the bathroom, so I don't have to go there."

She is in an all-girls' class. I assured her that they all know she is a girl. She claims she doesn't need to go, but I still think there is part of her that just would rather go in her pants than face the questions.

When she was about seven, and we were discussing this all again, Hadley said,

"I don't care when people think I'm a boy. I just hate when they are like, 'Sorry! Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!' I just would rather not tell them."

So, last summer when Hadley was trying out for her travel soccer team, I walked up to the registration desk and asked for a girl soccer tryout form. After we registered, I walked with her to the appointed coach. On our way across the field, Hadley grabbed my arm. I looked down at the tears welling up in her eyes.

"I don't want to do it," she said. "Can we go home?"

We do hard things. We do hard things. It has been my mantra for my kids (and myself) for a while. I wanted to rescue Hadley, but I knew she needed to do this and move through it.

"Come on," I said. "I'm going to talk to the coach. You will be fine."

Hadley slowly walked up, and the few girls with ponytails turned to look.

"This is Hadley," I said. "She is a girl, and she is trying out. She's a little nervous."

In the end, Hadley had a great time and felt awesome about the whole experience. We got in the car, and I said,

"Remember this. Remember how you feel now. Remember you can do hard things, even when you feel like crying or running away."

I remember telling a friend about these struggles. I just couldn't believe the social norms were so hard to navigate.

My friend said, "Why doesn't she just let her hair grow out?"

I'm not going to lie. Sometimes, I would say to Hadley,

"Do you want to grow out your hair, so you don't have to deal with this?"

She would always say, "No. I like my hair short."

I always immediately felt sick that I had even suggested that she change herself to make it easier for everyone. Vomit.

Ultimately, though, that is not an answer to anything. "Just be like everyone else" is NEVER the answer. It NEVER gets you to your true self. It NEVER satisfies or gives peace and truth. Real happiness comes when you realize your true self, no matter what others are becoming around you.

I eventually agreed that when in public, Hadley could go to the boys' bathroom. I think it was only a year ago. She was 8. She has always looked a little older than her age and would get some serious stares in the women's bathroom. She begged me to let her go in the boys' bathroom one day at Target, and I let her. She went in, got no stares, did her business, washed her hands, and got out. No drama. No discomfort.

In May 2016, under the administration of then-President Obama, a federal law known as Title IX protected the right of transgender students to use restrooms and locker rooms that match their gender identities. I remember the social media uproar about this. How can they allow MEN in the women's restrooms? What about our little girls? How could they do this?

I have a friend who looks a lot like Hadley but is a grown woman. She told me a story of being chased out of a store for being in the women's bathroom. She is a WOMAN. She said she would never use the women's restroom after that. She told me that she can go in the men's restroom, do her business, and get out, and no one looks at her twice.

I know a trans man who would probably be assaulted if he walked near a women's restroom, but by birth certificate, he is supposed to only use the female restroom, since Title IX has been rescinded.

I will still allow Hadley to use the men's restroom when we are in public. Maybe the world will be more evolved when she is older, and she can go to the bathroom she wants to go to. Until then, we will continue with the mantra, "We can do hard things," and continue coaching her to hold her chin up and proudly say, 

"I'm a girl."