The produce section of Market Basket is not the location I had imagined for this conversation with the parent of my teenager’s sweetheart. It felt like the potatoes were watching alongside the shoppers when Marie* unexpectedly shifted the conversation away from the kids’ New Years Eve plans into something more serious. It went something like this:
“Are you doing the pronoun thing?” Marie looked me square in the eyes. It felt like a challenge, but also a plea.
“Yes, we are. He or they pronouns for now while he’s figuring himself out,” I said with a smile. She squinted a bit in incredulity, so I added, “It’s natural for teenagers to need time to sort out their identity.”
It was here that I thought I might get a retort or a bit of rhetoric about how gender identity is just “trendy” or “a mental health crisis”. I will admit that I was bracing myself for a bit of a show down just feet away from the sourdough, and I was a bit on edge because my teenager had recently explained that his datemate’s (isn’t that a cute gender neutral term for the person you’re dating?) parents were not supportive of their child’s gender identity. But while I was hardening my jaw, something surprising happened…instead of squaring her shoulders for an argument, Marie’s gaze dropped to the tender berries in her cart and softened.
“Nicholas* wants us to do the pronoun thing too,” she said, as she glanced back up to meet my expression. I think she was expecting displeasure or judgment or smugness.
I hoped she didn’t see any of those things as I said, “It’s hard, isn’t it? We’ve been trying for a while now, and I still get it wrong sometimes.”
Marie nodded, then added, “Nicholas is going to start talking to someone before we go any further. I just want him to know why. I just want to know why he feels this way.”
“I think that’s a great idea. Mine has been working with a therapist for a few years now. It’s a good way to support Nicholas while he figures this stuff out.” I looked pointedly at my watch, hoping to end our conversation on a positive note.
“One more thing, though,” she said, “can you ask your child to stop giving Nicholas ‘girl things’ while we sort this out?” Her jaw was set again. It was a boundary she wasn’t willing to cross, and I wanted to respect it.
I nodded. “That’s fair. I’ll talk to him tonight. See you at 6:00 when you drop Nicholas off for board games?” I gave a little wave and turned my cart towards the front end.
After checking out with all the sundries for the New Year’s festivities, I found myself thinking about the interaction in the car. Marie’s question kept replaying in my mind, “are you doing the pronoun thing?” While I felt like I needed to armor up to defend my child and my parental choices, what I really needed to do was listen and give this mom some space to process.
When we feel judged, it’s hard to give ourselves the time to listen to our own conscience and process our feelings. Parenting is really hard. Parenting a child grappling with gender identity is really, really hard. Marie didn’t confront me in front of all those apricots to degrade me or my child, but to seek some validation and some grace. I don’t know what will come of it, but I hope it helped to build a little bubble around her that granted some precious space for grace.
*Not their real names. They deserve anonymity.