Tag: baby

Gender…To Assign or Not To Assign…That Shouldn’t Be A Question

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

In the past, I suggested that parents should have a three-day waiting period before they can name their baby. It makes sense to get to know someone before you name them. Now, I have another suggestion, and that is that we eliminate the terms male/female, boy/girl from our vocabulary. What would it be like if someone had a baby and when we asked them the “what did you have?” question they answered “a baby” because after all it’s not a puppy. So, we call it a baby and then refer to it as they or them. What if we did that until the baby grew up and decided what they wanted to be called? Or better yet what if we never needed to be called anything? We were all just people with a name. How empowering would that be? The affirmation of gender identity and expressions…and the respect of all people as unique individuals.

Gender is the first label we give a baby. We want to know what our baby is before it’s even born. We’re so excited about assigning gender that we have gender reveal parties…some of which have caused huge fires and lots of destruction…maybe that’s a sign to stop…but I digress. If we meet someone with children we ask, “What do you have?” Well, they’re children of course. Did I not just say that? But that’s not what people want to know. They want to know the assignments…how many boys and how many girls. What would someone do if we just said we had baby or two children or three adult children?

Gender is a made-up distinction created to categorize people. And to prioritize them. Men are valued more than women, so we need to know who’s most important. We put labels on people to put them in neat little boxes for our own comfort…for our own ease of living or thinking or understanding. For our own valuation and control. And we do it from birth. Hell, we do it before birth with our desire to know our baby’s gender before they’re even born. We act like it’s critical that we be assigned a gender but why? It’s only necessary because we say we must have that label…or because we need to assign value. Because that’s what we’re doing we aren’t assigning gender we’re assigning value and worth.

I think everyone should use the pronouns they/them. Then no one would be misgendered. I have been called “sir” many times. Some of the people at my mother’s nursing home asked her if I was her son. Sometimes I just called he or sir. When I was in high school, we were going on vacation I guess and a flight attendant, (then referred to as a stewardess…see how we can change), told my mom she had a nice-looking son. She was so mad at me. I’m not sure exactly why because I didn’t do anything. I tried to make a joke out of it and said, “At least she said I was nice-looking.” I’m pretty sure the reaction I got was that she should have never let me cut my hair.

I hate being called a man. It’s embarrassing and something more…it’s spirit wounding. It’s humiliating. It feels as though I’ve done something wrong…or that I am something wrong. I’m not sure there’s another way to feel less seen than being misgendered. And why do we need to mention gender all? Why can’t we refer to someone as a person instead of a man or a woman? Why must we assign a gender to everything? There’s no reason to add ma’am or sir to a sentence like “can I help you?” My gender has nothing to do with anything…unless you’re only going to help me if I’m a man, and then you have all kinds of problems.

When I was talking with my wife about being misgendered, she said, “It’s because of your hair.” She’s always helpful. My hair is very short, and I could go shorter. Why am I supposed to have long hair? Long hair is very attractive on some people, but I hate it for me. Certainly, more men are growing their hair long…and I don’t understand…it’s so hot. It’s my personal opinion that people assigned male at birth get all the best hair cuts, all the best clothes…definitely all the comfortable clothes. I’ve always been envious. Women’s clothing is too short and too tight…and shoes with 4 inches heels? Seriously? Fuck no!

When I was growing up, I wasn’t allowed to have short hair. My mom made me keep it long and then got mad at me when it was all knotted. She called it a “rat’s nest.” Thanks for that image. The thing is I didn’t sign up for long hair…she did…although her hair was short so that’s confusing. We lived in Wisconsin during my forced long hair period of my life…really it’s just when I realized I couldn’t have short hair. I had to have long hair and, to make it even worse, girls were not allowed to wear pants to school. How fucked up is that? Apparently, I talked to the principal and convinced him to drop that rule. I don’t actually remember. So, the policy changed but not my mom. She still wouldn’t let me wear pants. Fortunately, in the winter it was freezing cold, so girls wore pants under their skirts to keep their legs warm. I did that too. And then instead of taking the pants off when I got to school, I took off the skirt. That way I got to wear pants too…super clever. It didn’t work so well with dresses. Eventually I got to wear pants and in 7th grade I got a haircut…remember the shag? It sounded better than it looked.

There’s some Bible verse that says a woman’s hair is her crown…or some bullshit used to make sure women know their place. The submissive, subservient female always deferring to a man…always. I was accused of hating men once. Why?  Because I’m a lesbian. That’s some bullshit…some so called “Christian” bullshit. Personally, I’m a Buddhist. Buddhist monks and nuns shave their heads. That’s definitely where I belong. How does gender labeling happen in communities where everyone shaves their heads and wear the same robes?

I heard Glennon Doyle talk about gender once on her podcast. She said she feels her gender is something she wears on the outside. She wears her female gender outwardly but doesn’t feel “female” on the inside. I can totally relate to her. I identify myself as female but by societies standards my gender presentation is more male. I like sweats, tennis shoes, and t shirts. My wife says that my shorts are “sweat shorts” not sure that’s a thing. What they are is comfy cotton shorts, men’s shorts because they are longer and looser. I told my mom that tennis shoes are the new dress shoes. She hated that as much as I love it.

I was criticized growing up for not being the right kind of girl or not being enough of a girl. I got the clear message that I was doing something wrong or lacking in some way. When I wore suits for work, I wished I could get men’s suits because they got all the beautiful suits with matching shirts and ties. You will not now or ever see me in a dress, skirt, or high heels…I wouldn’t even be able to stand up in them. When I was in law school, we had to do this argument in front of a mock appellate court. Our mentor person told us that women had to wear skirts or dresses. Now if you know me, you know I don’t speak up much in a group setting, but I told her no. I told her I wouldn’t and that I could not be given a lower grade just because I wore pants. So, I wore a nice jacket with pants, and I got an A. So there. I had a friend tell me once that I just needed to be dressed like GI Joe and I’d be happy…possibly true, but now it’s the older sweats and flip flops version of GI Jane.

We love our labels and categories. Why is pink for girls and blue for boys? My favorite color happens to be blue…although I do look good in a soft, pastel pink. Who makes these rules and why do we follow them? Several years ago, I was asking my grandson what he wanted for Christmas. Besides a skateboard, he wanted a helmet…a purple helmet. Then he added, “not girl purple, boy purple.” Now for him that meant dark purple not lavender. Where did he get the idea that there are boy colors and girl colors? Why am I steered away from dark colors to pastels because I’ve been assigned to the female gender?

I did my best to be gender neutral in toys for my own children and my grandchildren. I did buy my grandson a Mulan doll because he wanted one desperately. He loved it! So much so, he used it as a hammer, and it broke. Some things are beyond stereotypes.

Why do people get so irate over this discussion? Why should anyone care if I want to use the pronouns, they/them? Aside from not being able to classify people the way we want to, why should you care and why should you get an opinion about my identity? You may disagree with me on tons of things…politics, global warming, racism, poverty, any of hundreds of things. What you do not get to disagree with me on is who I am. You don’t get a fucking say in who I am. You don’t get to tell me that we can agree to disagree…fuck no. I say who I am. You have no say, and I don’t need your opinion.

Now Florida, the state that regulates everything but guns, is passing a law stating that you can only identify yourself by the gender you were assigned at birth. WTF!? So, that’s unconstitutional. You can’t make it illegal for me to call myself by the pronouns I choose or to say I am nonbinary or to tell you I’m a female even if I was assigned male at birth. You don’t get to have laws that codify discrimination. Who knows more about who I am, me or a judge? It’s ridiculous that the question even needs to be asked. You don’t get to tell me how I can identify myself. Sorry Florida.

I think it’s too bad that genitalia can be identified at birth, usually. It would be great if it didn’t develop until we were in our teens or maybe at 18 when you’re legally an adult. If they developed later then a child or a teenager could tell you if they were male or female or nonbinary. Or we could just drop gender labels all together since they’re made up. There would be such freedom without gender labels. Maybe we could allow our gender to be fluid and not lose our freaking minds. Why are we so threatened by this?

If I tell you my name is Bob you don’t get to call me Harry, because that’s not who I am. I tell you who I am. You do not get to tell me. If I say I use the pronouns they/them you do not get to call me she/her because I just told you who I am. You do not get to tell me who I am or how I can identify myself. I tell you.

My sexual orientation or gender identity or gender expression is up to me…only me. I know who I am and if you’re lucky I may allow you to know me. I don’t get to tell people that being straight is a sin and they’re going to burn in hell. Why? Because it’s none of my fucking business. And you have no business in my business. You do not get to debate or disagree with my identity. You do not get to tell me that who I am is wrong. We can disagree about all of our opinions all day long. My identity is not opinion. It’s fact. I identify as a woman, and I am a lesbian. That is not up for debate.

Now let’s be real…our world seems to be in a precarious place…our country is for sure. It’s time to stand up and speak out. If we stand by and do nothing, we are complicit in allowing laws like Florida is passing to become the accepted standard. What about all the children growing up and restricted from expressing their authentic selves? What about being judged and told that who you are is wrong? LGBTQ+ youth are FOUR times more likely to attempt suicide than their peers! How many lives do we need to destroy before we, as a country, pull our heads out of our collective asses and stand up for individuality? Why do we not understand you cannot legislate who people are? I thought republicans were against the government being involved in everything…well back the fuck off.

Our country runs on fear. Fear of “others” whoever that is. You don’t understand why I’m gay or why I’m nonbinary, so you won’t allow it. Make a law. The thing is it’s not up for you to allow or not allow. This country was founded on freedom…the freedom for people to be who they are or who they strive to be. What happened to that attitude. We can not legislate everything that we’re told to be afraid of, like people who are “different” in their expressions of who they are. We’re all different in our own ways.

I have a couple suggestions…why don’t we follow this sage advice, “if you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all.” Wouldn’t that be refreshing? It would be amazing. And how about, “treat others the way you want to be treated.” That’s a rule I can live with. Let’s make those laws. And finally, can we not just be kind and loving. I guarantee that no one will be turned away from heaven for loving people who are gay, or lesbian, bi, nonbinary, trans, drag queens (who are performing artists by the way), or straight…yes, some straight people are hard to love.

Remember that in the end all that matters is how we love people…because love is going to win. It always does.

What’s In A Name?

~ Kai Raines ~ Leave a comment

I remember when I was expecting my first baby…it was all very exciting. Everyone was asking if we had picked a name yet. Naming a human being is an interesting task…an important mission. So, we started looking at names. How do you pick a name from literally every name in the world for this little being you have not even met? No pressure there. And the possible list is a bit much. We didn’t even know if we were having a boy or a girl (more discussion on gender assigning at a later date). I suppose we weren’t picking from every name in the world. We were never big on Boris, Ivan, or Helga. Anyway, it was hard to even know where to start. I bought name books and spent days scouring them for the perfect name. 

Recently, my grandson, and his girlfriend, had a beautiful baby boy. My first question was whether the baby was healthy and the second was what’s his name? He told me they didn’t know yet. I’m way too type A to register “we don’t know yet” comfortably. How do you not know?! You’ve had nine months to decide. You only had two jobs…grow a healthy human and name him. Fifty percent completion rate is not that good…it’s a D. My great-grandson (and yes, I am way too young for that ancient title) deserves better than a D.

Of course, I did not say any of those things to my grandson or his girlfriend…those were just the musings of my mind…”musing” might be too gentle of a word…the roller coaster of my mind…the bumper car…that’s more accurate. I did ask when they were going to decide and my grandson said, “We don’t know. We’re going to get to know him a little and then decide.” When did my grandson become the Buddha or the Yoda? The simple wisdom in that answer did not escape me. Now my question was why doesn’t everyone do that? You give birth and then there’s a three-day waiting period before you can pick a name that child will have for the rest of their lives. That seems reasonable.

When I was pregnant, I spent a lot of time repeating names over and over, trying to see if I would like the name forever. We had a beautiful, healthy baby girl, and named her Jessica. It’s been almost forty years and I still love saying it…and Amy and Ben…can’t have anyone feeling left out. 

When I was born my parents wanted a boy, so the only name they picked was Kenneth, after my dad. That’s not really a pick because they didn’t have to come up with the name. For it to be a “pick” you gotta do the work. My family has a thing about names that begin with the letter K. My sister’s name is Kathy, well Kathleen. We only use the full name for dramatic effect. My parents decided on Karen for me. My two cousins are Kevin and Kelly. I’m not sure of the reason for the attachment to K…but there I was Karen Ann Morrison. 

You would need to live in a box to not have heard of all the bad press the name “Karen” has been getting. My summation is that some “Karen’s” have been complete assholes and managed to get themselves all over social media acting like the privileged fuckers they are. Now you can “be a Karen”… that’s a real thing…and it’s a really bad thing. It is bad to become a verb. WTF?!

The BBC gives this explanation. “‘Karen’ has, in recent years become a widespread meme referencing a specific type of middle-class white woman, who exhibits behaviors that stem from privilege. To give some examples, ‘Karen’ is associated with the kind of person who demands to ‘speak to the manager’ in order to belittle service industry workers, is anti-vaccination, and carries out racist micro aggressions, such as asking to touch a black person’s hair. But a predominant feature of the ‘Karen’ stereotype is that they weaponize their relative privilege against people of color – for example, when making police complaints against black people for minor or even – in numerous cases – fictitious infringements.” Now who wouldn’t want to be associated with that bullshit? Don’t be a “Karen.” But I am one. Thanks parents.

In the last two years, I’ve heard my mom say my name hundreds of times. The majority of the time she wasn’t saying it as much as screaming it…with much hostility. She used my name when she told me she hated my fucking guts. She used my name when she told me she was going to call the police, lie, and tell them I hit her. She used my name when she told me I had always been the bad seed of the family. She used my name when she told me the worst thing she ever did was move to Florida with me. I’ve heard my name a lot…too fucking much really.

My mom doesn’t actually say my name. She screams it, yells it, and spits it at me full of venom and animus. I can feel the hatred when she says it. She spews it at me as if it’s a curse she’s put on me. I have heard the name “Karen” more than I ever wanted to. I dread hearing my name now. I cringe when my mom says it because I never know what’s coming next. I have become so conditioned to the hostility in her voice that when she says it nicely, I don’t believe her.

Names are a strange thing. I’ve been thinking that parents should only be able to give a child a temporary name. You name the baby, after the three-day waiting period, and that name sticks until the child is old enough to pick their own name. What age would that be? I’m not sure. It can’t be too young. We don’t want a slew of Cinderella’s, Snow White’s, Spider-Men, or Thor’s. Someone might grow up and regret that choice…at least it was their choice. There’s power in naming something…power in naming yourself. You picked it, you own it.

I’ve read that the sound that people love to hear most is the sound of their own name. Personally, I’ve lost the enjoyment of hearing other people say my name. I used to love hearing my wife say it in her sweet Texas drawl. Family, friends, acquaintances, I don’t want to hear it at all. So, I have decided to pick my own name. I’m 63 so I should be old enough to pick a reasonable name…P!nk is tempting, but already taken.

When I was little my family called me KayKay. So, I thought maybe Kay. That might work. Then I heard my mom call me that and I understood something…I need a name my mother has never said. When I hear “Karen” I hear it from my mom, regardless of who’s speaking. It’s painful to hear it at times. The hate is all I hear now. I need a name that no one says around her, so she never hears it, so she can’t repeat it. Then I can get rid of “Karen” except with her. She’s the only voice I hear anyway. Then I will no longer be a “Karen.”

So, what do I want my name to be? One of the things about the name “Karen” is that it doesn’t mean anything to me. I wasn’t named after anyone…no best friend, favorite relative, or someone loved and admired by my parents. I’ve been pretty much the only “Karen” I’ve known. Well Karen Carpenter…I might have accepted being named after her. 

I realized that the name I pick has to mean something. It has to mean something to me. Meaning is very important to me. My tattoos were selected because of their meaning. All the jewelry I wear, and even my key chain has special meaning to me. Meaning is a big deal.

So…sticking with the “K” theme, my family seems fond of, I’ve decided on “Kai.” Why “Kai”? I’ll tell you. I like the sound of it, and I love what it means. “Kai” is a gender-neutral name that is Welch in origin and means “keeper of the keys and earth.” In Hawaiian, “Kai” means “ocean” or “sea.” In Japanese, “restoration” and “recovery” are included in the meaning. The ocean is my favorite place on earth, and I am restored when I am there. I am renewed and free in the ocean. I am not in pain in the ocean. I don’t have a disability either…I am restored. 

The Navajo say that “Kai” means “willow tree” whose spiritual properties include “protection” and “healing.” It’s also associated with “love” and “being lovable.” I think we all know love is an important theme to me…I do mention it on occasion. After a lifetime of negative messages, it took a long time to finally believe that I am lovable. Everything I talk about, everything I read about, everything I think about is focused on healing…my own, other peoples, and the worlds. “Divine is the task to ease pain.” I choose a name that means healing, lovable, and ocean. Kai. It’s perfect. It’s me in a name. Kai. It’s my name. It’s MY name. Kai Ann Raines…hmmm…I will not be using my middle name…lol.

Let’s be real…choosing a new name doesn’t necessarily solve anything. It does give me the joy of not being a “Karen” anymore. The name change moves me and creates a change of perspective…I’m not that person, I’m this person. The pain and damage caused by the misuse and weaponization of my name aren’t suddenly gone…although that would be awesome. The name change allows some space and fluidity in my thoughts and perspective. That movement allows me to see myself differently. It allows me to see myself through my-self…my own eyes…my own knowing. I see a bigger picture, not someone else’s narrow or biased view. I can be brand new, like a baby you get to know before you name him. I have gotten to know myself. I know who I am. I am a Kai, not a Karen.

Oh yeah…my great-grandson’s name is Zacary…it’s perfect just like he is. Good job mom and dad. I love that little baby. He reminds me that there is still hope and so much possibility in the world. So, I’m gonna love him the best I can. I want him to grow up feeling swaddled in love. And from that secure place he can see the possibilities and hope as well. I want him to see all he has to offer this world. I’m going to lead with love in all my interactions. I’m going to model love for him, the best I can.

Let’s love generously. Let’s be extravagant in our love…giving much and often…without conditions. Let loving actions take the place of empty words. Because in the end all that matters is how we love people. Love is a verb. That’s a verb I can get behind.