My Princess Boy (http://www.myprincessboy.com/) is an illustrated children’s book by Cheryl Kildavis, based on the experiences of her young son. There is a description of the book on the site linked from the title above. From there a further link takes you to a TV interview of Mrs. Kildavis and a psychologist. Dyson Kildavis is also present and says a few words. He’s only 6 and in Kindergarten. Dyson’s father and 8 year-old brother are in the studio audience and each say a few words about him, as does his Kindergarten teacher. It looks like a fine book for families with non-gender conforming children of all sorts and just plain good for helping to understand the diversity of humanity.

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I have forwarded the link to many I know in healthcare who work with children. Thanks Jesus for making us aware of the book.

Another news item in a similar vein, from the blog of a mother dealing with this situation. Worth reading http://open.salon.com/blog/girlyboymama ... s_identity

Owning His Identity

For the past 1 year and 9 months, I have fantasized about Alex one day becoming a renowned ballet dancer. His skill and ability seemed above par. His interest and dedication to the art was focused and intent. Or so I thought.

I had often wondered if that duality ever caused him any distress. The ballet school was adamant that the boys are boys, and the girls are girls. Adherence to traditional gender binaries was a strict requirement. To be sure, though, the first thing that ever attracted Alex to ballet at then tender age of four or five, were the tutus and point shoes. Yet somehow over the course of the last nearly-two-years, he managed to find a place for himself and find peace with a male role in ballet classes. At the ballet performance in June, he and two other boys spent the entire day in the dressing room bonding over Nintendo DS, Leapfrog, and iPod games. I began to take his complacency for granted. I assumed that the peace he found in this niche would be lasting in spite of the fact that it did not represent his identity in all other aspects of his life. Underneath the surface, however, there was tension brewing.

The day he decided to quit ballet was no different than the previous ones except that it had been hot. When I picked him up from school, he was sweaty, cranky, and under-snacked. For Alex, this is a volatile combination. As we arrived at the ballet school, in typical fashion, he hid in the backseat to begin the transformation from Girl-Alex (as he expressed himself at school) to Boy-Alex (as he was required to present himself at ballet). He had made it very clear to me that at no time, ever would he reveal his girl side to anyone at the ballet school, and going inside to change into his class clothing was absolutely not a consideration. Thus, for as long as he had ballet lessons directly after school, he had been using the car as his personal dressing room.

From the back of the hot car and in a fit of rage, he tore off the headband—his security blanket—and threw it aside. He angrily unlatched the sparkly necklace and threw it at me where I was still sitting in the driver’s seat. Remaining calm, I coaxed him into his leotard and leggings. My calmness only seemed to exacerbate his rage. He threw shoes, clothes, anything he could get his hands on at me. It was evident that he was directing his rage squarely at me. I wondered where the rage was coming from. It wasn’t new; this had happened before during this transition. The difference this time was that he was mature enough to understand that he had a choice in this matter. If ballet was no longer an aspect of his life that he could identify with, he needed to move on, and I needed to coach him through that moment.

In a low, calm voice, I addressed the wailing, writhing body in the back of the car. “You know, if you don’t want to do ballet anymore, you can quit,” I offered. “Is that what you’d like to do? Because this isn’t worth it. You really do not seem like you’re into this. You’re obviously unhappy about having to do this.”

With a grunt and a nod, Alex found his black ballet slipper, put it on, and got out of the car. This option seemed to instantly soothe him to some degree. I braced myself for the next blow I knew I needed to deliver.

“…but you need to tell Ms. Laura you’re quitting.” There was a long pause and then, “Can’t you just do it?” he pleaded.

“No. This is your decision. I will go with you, but this needs to come from you.” Nervously, he agreed.

As Alex delivered his news to Ms. Laura, I witnessed a side of him I had not seen before. He was fidgety and nervous as he shared that he no longer wanted to do ballet or perform in the Nutcracker in December. For all that he is or isn’t, I had never known him to display this kind nervousness. He was shaking and looked like he was about to throw up. Taking great care to ensure there was no guilt couched in my support of his decision, we agreed to leave it open and should he ever decide to take it up again, he could do so with no hard feelings.

On our way home, I saw the relief wash over him. I watched as a sheath of realization encompass him that he no longer had to be someone he wasn’t—for anyone. But just to be sure, I asked, “So how do you feel about piano? Do you still want to take lessons?” Eyes wide as saucers, “YES! I love piano lessons! I never want to quit that.”

~~~

About three weeks before The Ballet Blowout "performance," our family attended a weekend-long conference for families with transgender children. During this time, Alex met and spent a fair amount of time with many other kids on the gender spectrum. Some of the older kids were counselors themselves at the day camp he attended while we attended the workshops for the adults. He was able to see for himself all the creativity, beauty, variety, and even normalcy that the gender spectrum rainbow has to offer. Indeed, for three days, he was able to experience his gender nonconformity as normal. It was, in a word, cathartic for him. While he showed no immediate outward emotional or cognitive reaction to the situation, the Ballet Blowout was proof to me that he finally realized he did not have live in a world under two identities. Accepted at school and home, ballet was the only environment left that had not embraced his girl side.

In addition to simply ending an activity he no longer enjoyed, standing up for himself and expressing his feelings to Ms. Laura was, in a deeper sense, his taking ownership of his own diverse identity. The traditional gender binary that defines ballet turns out is not his world. It’s not who he is. Yet, that was a role he was forced to participate in order to enjoy the art of ballet. Ironic that he is not free to express his true identity in an art form that attracts other like him. Perhaps he will one day find his inspiration in Les Ballets Trocadero de Monte Carlo, but for today he’d much rather be Lady Gaga’s sidekick, Boy GooGoo.

Transward

This is wonderful, Transward, and thank you for printing this... What a wonderful mother this woman is...and such a great little boy..The world is a better place because of people like this...We need more of them...

Amazingly, I could relate with this little boy...55 years difference...

Thanks again dragonfly

That mother is a lot different than either of my parents. I would not have even dared to display the slightest of female thoughts or emotions.

This was wonderful reading. Oh but to have an understanding and open mother such as this. Alex will one day find himself in balet when he is allowed to be himself.

Boy goo goo----- I like that....

The story of "My princess Boy" was well presented by King 5. Un-biased. The boy is a sweetheart and has a loving and caring family.

It is certainly very enlightening to read about the struggle of a young transgender kid deciding on the role most appropriate for her. It is a bit of a pity that she has to throw away what she does well. There is actually a very good all male ballet dance troupe who cross dress into all the female roles. Indeed, one of their famous pieces is swan lake -- all by genetic male dancers.

I received my copy of "My Princess Boy". While I was not a princess boy I was not coordinated or good at sports. So this book is both for me and to share with friends who might know someone who has a son outside of the traditional roles and may be a Princess Boy. Have you hugged your princess boy today?

Another news story to add to this thread. http://nerdyapplebottom.com/2010/11/02/my-son-is-gay/

My son is gay

Posted: November 2, 2010 by Cop's Wife in bubba/boo, deep thoughts, holidays & celebrations, trials & tribulations

26,913

Or he’s not. I don’t care. He is still my son. And he is 5. And I am his mother. And if you have a problem with anything mentioned above, I don’t want to know you.

I have gone back and forth on whether I wanted to post something more in-depth about my sweet boy and his choice of Halloween costume. Or more specifically, the reactions to it. I figure if I’m still irked by it a few days later, I may as well go ahead and post my thoughts.

Here are the facts that lead up to my rant:

My son is 5 and goes to a church preschool.

He has loved Scooby Doo since developing the ability and attention span to sit still long enough to watch it.

Halloween is a holiday and its main focus is wearing a costume.

My son’s school had the kids dress up, do a little parade, and then change out of costumes for the rest of the party.

Boo’s best friend is a little girl

Boo has an older sister

Boo spends most of his time with me.

I am a woman.

I am Boo’s mother, not you.

So a few weeks before Halloween, Boo decides he wants to be Daphne from Scooby Doo, along with his best friend E. He had dressed as Scooby a couple of years ago. I was hesitant to make the purchase, not because it was a cross gendered situation, but because 5 year olds have a tendency to change their minds. After requesting a couple of more times, I said sure and placed the order. He flipped out when it arrived. It was perfect.

Then as we got closer to the actual day, he stared to hem and haw about it. After some discussion it comes out that he is afraid people will laugh at him. I pointed out that some people will because it is a cute and clever costume. He insists their laughter would be of the ‘making fun’ kind. I blow it off. Seriously, who would make fun of a child in costume?

And then the big day arrives. We get dressed up. We drop Squirt at his preschool and head over to his. Boo doesn’t want to get out of the car. He’s afraid of what people will say and do to him. I convince him to go inside. He halts at the door. He’s visibly nervous. I chalk it up to him being a bit of a worrier in general. Seriously, WHO WOULD MAKE FUN OF A CHILD IN A COSTUME ON HALLOWEEN? So he walks in. And there were several friends of mine that knew what he was wearing that smiled and waved and gave him high-fives. We walk down the hall to where his classroom is.

And that’s where things went wrong. Two mothers went wide-eyed and made faces as if they smelled decomp. And I realize that my son is seeing the same thing I am. So I say, “Doesn’t he look great?” And Mom A says in disgust, “Did he ask to be that?!” I say that he sure did as Halloween is the time of year that you can be whatever it is that you want to be. They continue with their nosy, probing questions as to how that was an option and didn’t I try to talk him out of it. Mom B mostly just stood there in shock and dismay.

And then Mom C approaches. She had been in the main room, saw us walk in, and followed us down the hall to let me know her thoughts. And they were that I should never have ‘allowed’ this and thank God it wasn’t next year when he was in Kindergarten since I would have had to put my foot down and ‘forbidden’ it. To which I calmly replied that I would do no such thing and couldn’t imagine what she was talking about. She continued on and on about how mean children could be and how he would be ridiculed.

My response to that: The only people that seem to have a problem with it is their mothers.

Another mom pointed out that high schools often have Spirit Days where girls dress like boys and vice versa. I mentioned Powderpuff Games where football players dress like cheerleaders and vice versa. Or every frat boy ever in college (Mom A said that her husband was a frat boy and NEVER dressed like a woman.)

But here’s the point, it is none of your damn business.

If you think that me allowing my son to be a female character for Halloween is somehow going to ‘make’ him gay then you are an idiot. Firstly, what a ridiculous concept. Secondly, if my son is gay, OK. I will love him no less. Thirdly, I am not worried that your son will grow up to be an actual ninja so back off.

If my daughter had dressed as Batman, no one would have thought twice about it. No one.

But it also was heartbreaking to me that my sweet, kind-hearted five year old was right to be worried. He knew that there were people like A, B, and C. And he, at 5, was concerned about how they would perceive him and what would happen to him.

Just as it was heartbreaking to those parents that have lost their children recently due to bullying. IT IS NOT OK TO BULLY. Even if you wrap it up in a bow and call it ‘concern.’ Those women were trying to bully me. And my son. MY son.

It is obvious that I neither abuse nor neglect my children. They are not perfect, but they are learning how to navigate this big, and sometimes cruel, world. I hate that my son had to learn this lesson while standing in front of allegedly Christian women. I hate that those women thought those thoughts, and worse felt comfortable saying them out loud. I hate that ‘pink’ is still called a girl color and that my baby has to be so brave if he wants to be Daphne for Halloween.

And all I hope for my kids, and yours, and those of Moms ABC, are that they are happy. If a set of purple sparkly tights and a velvety dress is what makes my baby happy one night, then so be it. If he wants to carry a purse, or marry a man, or paint fingernails with his best girlfriend, then ok. My job as his mother is not to stifle that man that he will be, but to help him along his way. Mine is not to dictate what is ‘normal’ and what is not, but to help him become a good person.

I hope I am doing that.

And my little man worked that costume like no other. He rocked that wig, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Transward

The comments at the site there have ranged from praise to simple redneck bigotry. It's an amazing thread.