Chapter Two. He’s Not Like Other Boys.
Sports
Daniel played soccer when he was pretty young. He joined the coed town team with his neighbor friend, Melissa. The two of them had so much fun together and we enjoyed the Sunday afternoons watching and hanging out with our neighbors. I’m really not sure you could call what was happening soccer, but it was definitely a feel-good event for all.
Sadly, when Daniel got a little older the teams were no longer coed, and the games became more competitive. He decided soccer was no longer for him.
Daniel was always pretty game to try new things. So when the opportunity came, he signed up for baseball. It was such a fun night when we all got to go to the school to sign up for the team, pick up his uniform, and get his individual and team pictures taken.
We of course ordered the pictures so we could proudly send them to our relatives. He looked so great in his black and white uniform.
Looking back, that night was probably the highlight of Daniel’s baseball career.
Scott would practice with Daniel, throwing and catching in the driveway, getting him ready for the season to begin. We were all excited to go watch him play.
Going to games turned out to be excruciatingly painful. It’s amazing all the feelings that came up for me at those games. I literally started to have strong feelings toward the other boys, who I didn’t even know!
I didn’t like the competitive ones.
I didn’t like the ones who hit the ball almost every time.
I especially didn’t like the ones who made Daniel look bad.
Kids can be so cruel, and make such hurtful comments. I developed real anger and resentment towards anyone who showed their disappointment in Daniel's performance.
And I most definitely did not like the coach.
I was relieved when Daniel said he wanted to quit.
Even though I knew that in principle that it's good for kids’ character development to complete the things they start; in this case, I was happy to make an exception. Letting Daniel quit was a great relief for all of us!
I have to admit I still had a tape running in my head though…“What would a ‘good mom’ do?” rather than… “What does my son most need?”
Scott kept that baseball picture on his desk for many years after that… Hmm.
Summer Traditions
I love traditions! And I loved that every year we did the exact same thing for our summer vacations. As soon as the kids were out of school we would head to Minnesota and Wisconsin for 2-3 weeks and in August we would go to Denmark to visit my parents and brother’s family.
Scott’s parents lived on a farm in central Minnesota and his sister with her family in Minneapolis. When on the farm there were some things we did every single year.
Grandma would always take the girls on a special outing. It would include Leah and her cousin getting their nails done at a salon at the mall - something Leah never got to do at home - and then out to a really pretty place for lunch. It was a big special event to always look forward to.
During those same times Grandpa and Scott would take Daniel fishing or horseback riding. Somehow Daniel was never quite as excited about those outings as the girls were about theirs.
It never occurred to me that Daniel would have loved to go with us girls. Fishing and horseback riding - what boy wouldn’t have preferred that? I reasoned.
Then there was the BB gun. Scott would line up empty milk jugs on the fence and teach Daniel how to aim and shoot them off.
The last time Daniel was up for shooting the gun, he had been in the barn with Scott practicing. They had graduated from milk jugs to aiming at other things. All of a sudden he came running into the house crying, so distraught.
“Oh my! What in the world happened?! Is anyone hurt?”
Through his tears and sobs Daniel was finally able to say that they had shot a pigeon. This was more than his tender little heart could bear, and all he could think about was the pigeon’s poor mom.
Needless to say, no more guns!
Scott tried hard to make the male bonding fun, adventurous, and special. But it always seemed to be a little bit of a miss.
We would then spend a week with my sister’s family at a cabin in Wisconsin.
On our way to Wisconsin from Minnesota one year, I distinctly remember that Daniel was wearing his favorite polo shirt. It was bright pink. It wasn’t my favorite, but he loved it!
When we stopped at McDonalds at our halfway point I was standing behind the kids as they ordered. The cashier said, “What would you girls like?”
My heart went into my throat. “Oh no! Did he just say that?” I really hoped Daniel hadn’t caught it… “I wish he wouldn’t wear that shirt.”
In Wisconsin the cousins were quite a bit older so the two guy cousins would go play basketball with the dads and Daniel got to go shopping with the girls. He loved that!
The wife of one of my nephews is really fun and beautiful and in some ways the kids saw her as a grown up, real life Barbie. What’s better than that? Daniel formed a very special bond with her and loved her fascination with beautiful things.
On one of the vacations Leah and Daniel got to get fake tattoos with her. Oh my! So extravagant!
Mrs. Pink
We would often try to squeeze in a short visit with our friends Tim and Linda while we were in the Midwest. I had shared an apartment with Linda for five years before Scott and I got married. She was like family to me and we were so happy that Leah and Daniel enjoyed spending time with their (a little bit younger) three kids.
On one of those visits the kids had decided to put on a play for us. They had been in the basement playing for a long time while the rest of us got to have a nice time catching up upstairs.
Then they emerged in full costumes. I have no memory of what the play was about. No memory of what any of the other kids were wearing. But I do remember as if it was yesterday what Daniel had on.
He was wearing a pink dress and a wig. His name in the play was Mrs. Pink. And honestly, he was so pretty. All I could think about was how well he played the role of a girl. And how uncomfortable it made me feel.
Did anyone else notice how pretty he was?
As close a friend as Linda was to me, I still felt embarrassed to mention the feelings that came up inside me. I really wanted it to be no big deal, but I came away afraid of what Linda and Tim might be making up about Daniel, especially since we only see them once a year.
I just wish it wasn’t so obvious that he’s not like the other boys.
The image has been etched in my memory.
Denmark. A Breath of Fresh Air
Going to Denmark at the end of each summer was always a nice change of pace for us.
Daniel fit into Danish culture much better. The gender roles were not so clearly defined and the clothes boys wore were offered in a wider range of choices and included more fun and less “masculine” styles. Daniel loved shopping in Denmark!
Denmark was definitely not stuck in gender-specific toys either. Or, specific boy and girl colors.
We always spent a lot of time riding the trains in Copenhagen, and throughout Denmark. The trains had a fun mascot named Harry, who was featured on posters everywhere. Harry had light lavender fur with bright red hair. You could buy him as a stuffed toy in the public transportation convenience stores.
For a couple years Harry was the only mascot, but after a while a girlfriend named Solvej was introduced. She was green with yellow hair. Somehow it just felt good to me that the colors weren’t the other way around. The kids of course had to have them and loved playing imaginary games with them.
Being in Denmark always gave me great peace of mind. There seemed to be room for a child like Daniel to be himself, without having to be gay.
Every year, we would visit a very close friend who had been like a second mother to me growing up. She had not married until later in life. The man she did marry was a living example to me of a man who did not fit the traditional American way of expressing masculinity.
Jens loved to cross stitch, create beautiful flower arrangements, and could cut and paste just about anything to produce the most beautiful greeting cards. When we went to visit them, the kids were in their glory. There were scraps of paper everywhere and the creativity was flowing, as so many amazing creations were produced!
I would always come away feeling relieved that here was someone, obviously married to a woman, who did not fit the masculine stereotype. It was the proof I needed to know - that you don’t have to be gay - just because you may appear that way to others.
So, I was sure Daniel was NOT gay!
Sometimes I wished we lived in Denmark. It would have been so much easier!
Cross Stitch
When Daniel was seven, he wanted to learn how to cross stitch.
I love any kind of sewing, knitting or craft, so I was happy to show him and get him started on a little project. He loved it and he was really good at it.
We were invited to a big gathering at a friend’s house with several families and some visitors from California. Daniel wanted to bring his cross stitch... Really?
There were going to be other kids there to play with, other boys his age. I suggested that it might be better to leave the cross-stitch at home so he could enjoy spending time with the others. But he really wanted to take it along! I reluctantly let Daniel bring it, hoping that once we got there he would choose to leave his project in the bag and play with the other boys.
After we were there just a short time, my heart sank as I saw Daniel — sitting alone sewing — while the other kids were playing. My mind was full of thoughts about what everyone else must be thinking, and I was really wishing Daniel would be a little more like the others. At least in public.
One of the guests from California was a doctor who worked at a center for patients with AIDS, many of them gay men. At one point during the evening, she pulled me aside and wanted to let me know how encouraged she was to see how we were allowing Daniel to be who he clearly was and letting him express himself the way he wanted.
She pointed out that so many of the men she was working with had grown up in homes where they were shamed for any behavior that was not considered gender appropriate and who they really were was stifled. She explained how the result of that kind of destructive response from parents had now, years later, caused so much deep pain and suffering. She assured me I was doing the right thing and sparing Daniel a lot of pain.
Wow! So now I was feeling pretty good and proud of myself. I heard her words as a confirmation to my own thoughts — that by allowing Daniel to express himself in these ways I was actually preventing him from turning out gay.
How did I hear it that way? Because it was unthinkable that Daniel would actually BE gay. I guess we all hear what I want to hear.
The Earring
When Daniel turned 8 and asked if he could get his ear pierced, just like Leah had when she turned 8, I felt a little uneasy. No other 8-year-old boy at his school had an earring. I knew he would get teased.
Daniel was already getting bullied at school for being different than the other boys, so my heart ached as I thought about what an earring would do.
Isn’t there a place for a parent to protect their child from the cost of not showing up as socially acceptable? This was definitely a recurring question for me. I would certainly want to protect Daniel from unnecessary harm. “Fitting in” had a high value to me. I really did think it was for his sake.
I talked about that with him, imagining together what the other kids’ response would be. We were in agreement about the possibility of getting teased, but Daniel was persistent, so I suggested we start with a magnet earring to see how it would be for him to wear to school.
I remember sending him off to school with that little silver ball magnet attached to his ear, praying that he wouldn’t come home completely crushed. Sometimes it just seemed like Daniel was trying to make life harder for himself.
“How did it go?” I asked when he got off the bus.
“Some kids liked it, and some laughed at me. But I just told them they don’t have to wear it.”
Okay, so that worked… Until Sunday morning when I was in the bathroom getting ready for church. Daniel came and stood in the bathroom door. Wearing his earring.
I turned and looked at him. “Not to church!”
“Why not Mom?”
So, I explained how I thought people at church wouldn’t like it or understand, and that it would be really hard for him.
“Mom, are you afraid for me? Or are you most afraid of what your friends will think of you?”
Ouch!!
Daniel did wear his earring to church, and he did get his ear pierced. And I got to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, exposing my need to fit in, my need to self-protect.
