Alberta Transgender Guidelines - My Thoughts

If you haven’t heard about the new guidelines for Alberta schools you must be living under a rock. These guidelines are aimed towards any person living as a transgender within a school setting. These guidelines are aimed at ensuring, transgender individuals, who are already walking a difficult road, have a safe place within the walls of their school. In my heart, it feels as though the guidelines are wrapping their arms around a minority and saying “It's ok. You aren’t alone and we will help.”

But with any “threat” comes a plethora of fear, undocumented statistics and stereotypes. Just months ago, I was reading hateful things about Muslims and Syrians. People were protesting the Canadian government for their commitment to welcome 25000 refugees. People were using words like terrorist & ISIS. “How can we let these, scum of the earth, into our country?” I actually read those words on a friends Facebook page.

And now, with this new change, I am reading the same things but aimed towards transgender individuals. Words like rape and pedophile are being used to describe transgender youth. And “how could we let these people, near our girls?” People are saying little boys are going to declare they are girls just to sneak a peek at girls in the change room. Male teachers are going to start using the female washroom to abuse our girls. I cannot imagine being the mother or father of a transgender youth and reading that garbage. I cannot imagine being a male teacher and feeling that label.

So let’s pause a minute and think this through. I recently read an article and there are approximately 0.3% of transgender people in the United States. Another poll estimates 1 in 200 to 1 in 500. Now, while that number is hard to confirm because so many live in silence or in hiding, it’s a small number. Like very small. This very small minority has very big hurtles and very real fears. From a Canadian poll, 77% of transgender or gender-nonconforming has seriously considered suicide and 43% have actually attempted suicide. 87% of transgender students felt unsafe in places at school. Those are staggering and frightening numbers. Knowing those numbers and the real struggles transgender individuals go through, why would anyone choose such a hard path just for a peek at a girl or boy going to the washroom? I just don’t believe anyone would choose to be transgender. I don’t think it’s a choice, at all.

I am a parent of three children who are happy with their born gender. I find it EXTREMELY offensive someone would suggest my son would say he is female so he can take advantage of a girl. It actually hurts my soul. You are labeling my son as a predator based on his gender. My children identify with their gender. There is no confusion for them. They will continue to use their designated bathrooms. They will continue to refer to themselves as boy or girl. I will continue to be referred as Mom. Their dad will still be dad. Their grandparents will continue to use their titles. Nothing changes for us because we know who we are. We have never struggled with an identity crisis. I know almost all the teachers at our school and unless they have been struggling in silence, they will continue to use their designated washrooms. They will continue to use their designated titles.

I feel, these guidelines, are in place to broaden labels for those who don’t know how to label themselves yet. These guidelines aren’t in place to say you can’t be called a girl if you are born and identify as a girl. These guidelines aren’t in place so I have to stop being called “Mom.” People are being far too literal and turning these guidelines into a path towards hate and fear.

Am I afraid for my children? Am I afraid for my girls? Of course, I am. I am afraid every day. I am afraid they didn’t hear I love you enough. I am afraid they heard my voice raised one too many times. I’m afraid they didn’t get enough nutrition. I am afraid they didn’t get enough help with their homework. I’m afraid they didn’t use their manners enough. I am afraid they will make poor choices and not learn from them.

I am NOT afraid of YOUR transgender student who wants to use the washroom they identify with. I am NOT afraid of YOUR transgender student who wants to play on the sports team they identify with. I am not afraid of YOUR child. I am NOT afraid of your family and the extremely difficult path you walk. And I won’t be a part of perpetuating the fear and hate.

There is a good chance nothing will change at our school. There is a very real chance; we don’t have a transgender student. If this is the case, nothing changes. NOTHING.

There is a VERY GOOD chance; I will have to have open and honest conversations with my children about transgender individuals. There is a VERY GOOD chance; I will have to discuss the new guidelines with my children. AND it is MY job, as a parent, they understand why these guidelines are in place, who they are in place for and who they are designed to protect. It is NOT my job to instill more fear. It is my job to develop and nurture a level of empathy, acceptance and understanding.

If you want to be a part of the conversation and how this will roll out to your school, go to board meetings. Offer suggestions as to how these guidelines should be implemented. Share your concerns but offer solutions. Read and educate yourself. Talk to a transgender family and understand their hopes and concerns. Watch a documentary. But more importantly arm yourself with knowledge AND empathy. Don’t be a part of fear and hate spreading. Because as one of my favorite bloggers, Glennon Doyle Melton, says “We belong to each other” and “Love Wins.”

See that boy?

See that boy on the ice? The one skating as fast as he can and then abruptly crashing into the ice. The one that doesn’t seem as engaged as the other players? That’s my boy. He skates and falls. He tries and smiles. He would spend all practice trying to master the side stop. He absolutely loves hockey. And he can’t wait to score his first “real” goal in a “real” game.

He’s one of the youngest and for years to come, he’ll probably be one of the smallest.

Last year, was his first year in hockey. He spent more time wearing hockey gear around the house than he ever did on skates. His first practice was spent taking 2-3 strides and falling. But every time, he got up smiling and waving to me in the stands. He was so proud and instantly fell for the game.

It’s easy to see the difference between my hockey player and yours. In the stands, I hear the softly spoken words….

“What is THAT kid doing?”

“He’s wasting the coach’s time”

“Can’t he skate?”

“What is he doing here?”

I hear these things as I sit by myself, admiring the determination of my boy. I hear these words as I struggle with my own internal competitive dialog. These words floated easily from your mouth and landed heavily on my shoulders. Thankfully, I can bear the weight of your words.

But the words don’t stop there. Your child repeatedly tells my child in the locker room. …..

“You suck!”

“You’ll never score a goal.”

“You suck at hockey.”

My son was called a “baby” because of the size of his skates. Small skates does not equal small heart. Or small determination. Or small effort. Small skates only measures one thing…his feet.

When we climb into the truck for the drive home, I am faced with the same question…”Mom, do I suck at hockey?” And I do what most parents do…

I tell my son to ignore the trash talk. I tell my son to try his best. I talk to him about the importance of practice. I remind him to be kind and polite to the coaches and players. I remind him, CONSTANTLY, he needs pay attention. And when my good sportsmanship speech is done, I ask him two questions.

“Did you have fun today?”

“Did you try your best?”

Though his smile and sweat drenched hair can silently answer the questions, he proudly says “Yes.” And that’s what I care abwout. After all, my son is 6.

I am not asking anyone to tell me, or him, that he’s the next Gretzky. Or the next Sidney Crosby. Or the next Connor McDavid. I just want people to see his worth as a determined, enthusiastic hockey loving 6 year old. Trash talk at 16 can be motivating. Trash talk at 6 can be defeating.

As a former competitive athlete, I strongly believe in the power of sport. Sport encourages physical activity. Sport teaches team work and perseverance. Sport develops an internal drive to succeed. All the benefits of sport, start from a simple place though. The love of sport starts because we have fun. We love being on the ice or in the pool. We love being with friends. As we grow and develop our skills, the love of having fun with sport, morphs into a desire to succeed. The desire to succeed and be the best creates awesome athletes. You can't win an Olympic gold or hoist the Stanley cup if you don't have the overwhelming passion to be the best.

More important than winning though, is being a respectful athlete. And this needs to be taught from the youngest of ages. Kids need to be taught how to lose graciously. Kids need to encourage and congratulate others. Kids need to learn that losing is an important and valuable part of winning. Believe me when I tell you, the medals and awards will fade. The will end up in boxes at the back of a closet. Sometime down the line, athletes won't remember what "that award" was won for, but you will remember how the supportive, kind and encouraging athletes made you feel. You will remember a genuine hug from your rival. You will remember the sincere congratulations from someone who didn't have the best game. Being a good sport will last an entire lifetime. Trust me.

Right now, his love of hockey far outshines his talent and ability. Right now, wearing all the gear and having fun makes him feel like a star. So, for now, we will focus on having fun. He’ll continue to get distracted. He’ll continue to have fun falling. I’ll get excited and cheer when his stick just touches the puck. And I’ll wait, with baited breath, to lose my shit when he scores his first “real” goal. And I know that hard earned goal will be a day we both remember for a long time. And while he's flying high from his first goal, I will gently remind him he had a whole team supporting him. And then I'll ask him..."Did you have fun?"

My Dearest Grandma

As I was looking through my dusty blog I found this draft that never got published. Now is a good a time as ever.

On Wednesday, February 13, 2013, our family received a call that our dearest Mom & Grandma was in the hospital. The prognosis was not good and we were told it was only a matter of time. Thursday, I was able to go out and see her. I was able to sit around her bed with the ones she loved most and visit as though we were sitting around her kitchen table. I was able to hold her hand and kiss her forehead. I was able to say goodbye. Please, if you have the chance, go say goodbye. Yes it will be hard. But you won't get the chance back and I think the dying need it just as much as we do...if not more. Knowing the time was near I was asked to be a pall bearer and was also asked to write and deliver her eulogy. I needed no time to think. No time to ponder. Grandma was always there for me and in her passing I would do whatever I could to honor her. 

This my eulogy:

We have gathered here today to cherish, remember and celebrate the life of Grace Smith. I stand before you, deeply honored, to deliver the eulogy of our friend. Our Cousin. Our Auntie. Our sister. Our Grandma. Our mother. Pa’s wife. The beautiful and wonderful, Grandma Grace. 

Grandma, was born Grace Elaine, to Glen and Bernice Erickson and was one of five girls. She was delivered by her Aunty Vi in her Grandma Cunningham’s home. From an early age, Grandma learned her way around the kitchen. She was taught from a young age to preserve fruits and vegetables for those long winters in Garth. She may not have known the difference between a screwdriver and a hammer but she did know the difference between a coffee pot and a tea kettle. She enjoyed handmade toys from her daddy and baking in the kitchen with her mom. According to her sisters she was not known for being brave, actually she was kind of a scaredy cat, but she was quite the prankster. She also was not a good sport when it came to games, whether it be losing at cards, striking out in baseball or losing at checkers. 

Grandma was always very kind to animals. Cats and dogs often got to enjoy her cooking as they were served behind the old house. Chickens were shown off and bragged about. She could not stand hair in anyone’s eyes and it was a common occurrence for her to trim the bangs of dogs and horse. Any animal that had meaning to someone she loved was welcomed to be buried in the Pet Cemetery behind the house and usually a service was welcomed and encouraged.  

Grandma was a collector and if you were lucky, she’d take you for the latest hunt. Her treasures were most often found at garage sales. Or Antique shops. Or auction sales. She has a large collection of crock pots and coil oil lamps which still grace the walls of her home. She was always on the lookout for the record she just might not have. She was always collecting frames because a great picture always needed a great frame. She had closets full of clothes and a pair of shoes to match any outfit you put together. Her collection of chairs just might have been enough to seat everyone here today. 

Grandma was always doing what the next expert was going to tell you, long before it was made into a commercial or book. She wore helmets, seatbelts and life jackets long before it was law. She washed her hands frequently long before it was a commercial to stop the spread of the flu. She never liked to take any sort of medication or get any immunizations. She always kept her nails short and scrubbed clean. 

Grandma was an incredibly skilled crafter. She sewed many of her daughters’ clothes. She fabric covered countless photo albums. Many books have lasted 30+ years because she preserved the covers with Mac-Tac. Old worn jeans would be turned into large quilts and always with a personalized touch. Halloween costume requests were always taken with a smile and she always delivered above what was desired. Dough was not just reserved for making buns but was also for her dough art creations that hang on many walls. She created many, MANY paper toule pictures, which were always framed. She was always on hand with her expertise when a new home needed a fresh coat of paint. 

Grandma had an incredibly green thumb. She always had a large vegetable garden which was usually planted months before, from seed, in her greenhouse. There was always an overabundance of cucumbers and tomatoes for canning. You were always welcome in her garden and rarely got scolded for taking too much. She worked on maintaining a beautiful yard. Planting trees, flowers on the deck and several flower gardens. Often flowers were taken from their plant and pressed into books so she could admire their beauty later. She mowed her grass for years before teaching her grandchildren how to operate the mower. And you always had to ride the mower and then take the push mower around the trees. 

Grandma was a master in the kitchen. Cakes and cookies. Breads and buns. Pies and cinnamon buns. Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas were big affairs. Her table would be decked with her best china. Napkins would be artistically folded. Name tags placed strategically. As she watched her family grow the table got longer, often going from the kitchen into the living room. She would be dressed up with an apron while she cooked. And she would only duck out briefly to recurl her hair before everyone sat down to enjoy her long days work. She usually insisted everyone share something. You could share a reason to be thankful. A joke. A song. Or a story. Her fridges, yes there were two, were NEVER empty for family or friends or farmhands. There was always a fresh slice of bread with raspberry jam after mowing the lawn. There was always an open can of peaches for something sweet or garlic dills pickles when you needed to cure a cold. Grandma’s Kitchen was the heart of her home. It was where she taught us grandkids her favourite recipes. It was where she played games. Where she had drinks with friends. Where she prepared meals for her farming husband, Jeep. Where she shared her regular morning coffee with her son, Daryl. Where she washed, dye and cut her own hair. Where she cut the hair of others. Where she would bird watch. She would welcome line dance lessons in her kitchen. She would listen to her records in the kitchen. She would sort pictures in her kitchen. She would write letters in her kitchen and study history in her kitchen. 

Writing and delivering a Eulogy is both an honor and a difficult task. It can bring countless tears. It can bring beaming smiles. It can bring booming laughter. And it can bring overwhelming sadness. To remember and honor and love with all of our heart is the greatest gift we can give Grace. She loved us all. She had memories with us all. And today we give her those memories back. Before we know it, today will become yesterday. And then last week. And then last month. And then we will be saying...”years ago.” Carry her with you and..... Smile when you can cucumbers. Think of her when you smell fresh bread. Honor her when you have a glass of wine. Willingly take one more picture. Dance when you hear Elvis. Remember the smile she’d flash you when you completed job number 994 on her to do list. Laugh when you recall an argument you won or lost against her. Go out and use the phrase “Full of piss and vinegar” to describe someone. Remember the floors rugs gracing her vehicles. Buckle up. Cherish the times she let you drive alone....before you were legal. Share a tried and true recipe. Cherish the little things that are dear to you. Pass on the important memories to the ones you love. Love like she loved. And cherish every memory she forgot.

Big Valley Jamboree

Every year since we've moved to the Camrose area, we have taken on the BVJ. The only difference this year is that Adam, a non country fan, joined us. What I love about this festival is that kids 11&under are free. FREE. Of course we adults have to purchase tickets and food prices there are crazy but we don't have to purchase additional tickets for the kids to join in the fun. It was another great year and we will surely be back next year.

Wasting Time

Over my years, I have learned you cannot change people. You can hope and wish and hint at change, but really it is a futile endeavour. You can choose to get down in the pit with a person or be the person with a rope and wait with patience for them to grab hold. You can be the help and you can be the support but you cannot be the change in anyone but yourself.

You can, however, change how react. You can change how you move forward. You can choose where to put forth your energy. You can have faith that your positive choices will eventually have a positive effect on those around you. But change doesn't happen overnight. You can't hope for change before bed and wake up to find everything as you hope. Just like you can't plant a garden one day and wake up expecting a full harvest the next day.

The garden metaphor is a good one for me. Years ago, when we moved out here, I started my first garden with a very green thumb. I made plenty of mistakes. Knowing I wanted better results I reached out to experienced gardeners. I read gardening books and websites. Each spring, I implemented changes and each year I saw improvements. Had I not made any changes over the years, I would still be dealing with the same frustrating results.

Find a recurring event in your life and evaluate how you react to it. It will be different for everyone. Food, children, spouses...? Is your reaction the same every time? If you react the same every time, why are different results expected? How will you change your reaction to get different results?

Just some food for thought.

New Years Eve

Christmas Eve

Christmas Day

Christmas Day was spent at home. We opened up our family gifts and then hosted Adam's family for Christmas dinner.