At some point, maybe when the boys got significantly bigger than me, I started to think of the three of them as “my guys,” my husband and my two sons. They thought and acted differently than I did, took up more space, and needed to behave differently in front of their peers. As the only woman in their lives, I considered it my duty to teach them how to act around women and accepted that bathroom humor and insults were part of the language they used among themselves.

They were my world and I loved them deeply. Now I am excluded from their group, not because they want to do “guy” things, but because my youngest says he wants to do “woman” things. He sometimes dresses in ill-fitting and unattractive dresses and says he wants to use the women’s bathroom. He says he has to take hormones so he can do these things. In my family women maintain contact with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, organize family gatherings, and provide care for family members in need. My youngest does not do these things, nor do his father and brother. They do not even answer when I call and text.

I remember loving them, the smell of my children’s heads, joining in their fantasy games, and doing everything I could to be there when they needed me.