I’m Filled with Pride for My Genderfluid Child

This Pride month I celebrate Nico, for challenging norms on the path to discovering who they are.

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash. Image by author.

{Author’s note: Here at I Write Out Loud, I write new essays + share ones from my archive—and examine how they resonate now. Revisiting this essay from 2024 nearly broke my heart. I’ll be talking about how quickly things have devolved during my weekly public podcast on Wednesday, June 10 at 8pm ET. Please join me.}

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When Nico came out as genderfluid, I was filled with pride.

They first came out at 11 years old, about a year into pandemic living. Home schooling and isolation were our norms as Nico progressed from child to tween, and during this transition, a new identity was forming. Then one morning, my child handed me a note and with it, proclaimed a new name and pronouns.

She became they.

Daughter became child.

Annika became Nico.

My child was becoming: genderfluid, yes, but so much more. They were becoming their adolescent self, determined to figure out who they were and how they wanted to show up in this world.

I was becoming, too: a mom of a queer child. I got busy learning a new-to-me vocabulary, providing unconditional love and support, and navigating the world of my child and their ever-evolving gender identity.

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When Nico came out as pansexual, I was filled with pride.

Nico was so young, still only 11 — and a very childlike 11 at that — when they added sexuality to their label exploration. Nico identified as pansexual, bisexual, and a lesbian at different points, fluttering between sexual identities like a little bird seeking a nest that hadn’t quite been assembled yet. I listened to her. We talked about how love is love is love, and that as their mom, my only wish was for their happiness.

So long as their person was good to them and made them happy, it was all good by me.

I also gently stressed there was no rush to choose, either a partner or a sexual orientation. I told them there are things you know about yourself deep down, and there are things you find out through experience and exploration. But I didn’t say too much, because Nico was still a child, contemplating these unchildish questions, and having one’s mom talk about such things is just embarrassing.

Oh Nico, stay a child a few years longer, I thought to myself.

I also inwardly pondered, why are these kids rushing to declare their sexuality, ahead of even a first kiss? It felt so premature. Then I thought about my high school experience, how I knew only one gay person out of 2,500 students, and he was only out because he was so visibility, stereotypically gay, he couldn’t hide it. Kids bullied him mercilessly.

Of course we had other queer kids in my high school. My best friend Lawrence Winnerman was one of them, and he didn’t come out to me until our early 20s. It still breaks my heart to know Lawrence couldn’t come out, even to me, because of the social stigma.

So if Nico and friends chose to come out prematurely — as a show of queer solidarity, or simply because they could — I was all for it. They helped me realize it’s okay to let these conversations start early, with no obligation to stay locked into identities declared as tweens. Discussing the possibilities was an act of liberation for so many, even if these kids didn’t know it yet.

I’m amazed, grateful, and yes, proud of my child and their friends for being so forthright, for feeling so free to consider love and sexual identity, in whatever form it may take for them, whenever they’re ready.

What an incredible coming-of-age shift in such a relatively short time.

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When Nico came out as a neoboy, I was filled with pride.

Neoboy was hard for me — I’ll own that.

I had to consult the Gender Wiki to see what the term meant. I learned neoboy was first coined in 2020 and is defined as:

“…the feeling of being a boy/man outside the gender binary. Neoboy is a non-binary gender identity that is also considered under the mingender and miaspec umbrella. Some neoboys describe their experience as…. feeling like a man and/or connected to masculinity (partly or entirely) but in a “different” way.”

Neoboy was the first (and so far, only) time my child shifted from she and/or they and added he to their pronoun mix.

Nico’s older sister adapted seamlessly; I heard her introduce Nico as “my brother” to friends at their middle school and I’m not gonna lie, it shook me. Using a new pronoun was one thing; hearing a new familial noun was another. Turns out, I had a lot of my identity as a mom tied up in raising sisters. Our children have a way of challenging us and in turn, challenging cultural norms, and my offspring excel at challenges. I’m proud of them both — of Nico for having the courage of their gender convictions, and their sister for her unconditional acceptance. I managed to hold my apprehensions at bay (I hope), but for my kids, neoboy came with an ease and grace I found enviable.

I never looked at my child and saw a he.

I’ve never admitted that before; it feels almost wrong typing it now.

I also never had to use a he pronoun, as Nico’s neoboy status came pronoun-paired as he/they. I used they, and was never forced to confront referring to my child with masculine pronouns.

Still, I held space for Nico to explore it all. If neoboy had stuck, I would’ve learned, adapted, and used he/him pronouns. But I will admit — to you, readers, and to my adult support network — I’m glad it didn’t stick. As proud as I was of my child for researching and sharing this identity, neoboy was hard for me.

I’m not proud of that. I hope my kids couldn’t tell.

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When Nico came out as nonbinary, I was filled with pride.

Nonbinary almost felt like an identity homecoming for me, after witnessing the sexual and masculine identity pivots that proceeded it. It was so similar to genderfluid, only with a stationary base, which seemed more stable for Nico. I’ve got this, I thought, and for the most part, I did. It felt familiar and so I made fewer missteps.

I did accidentally did buy Nico a kawaii t-shirt in genderfluid instead of nonbinary colors, which they graciously accepted, explained, and then declined to wear.

Luckily our hometown is teeming with genderfluid kids, and the t-shirt was cute. We gave it away to a friend.

I’m proud my kids didn’t make fun of me for my flag-color fashion confusion.

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When Nico came out as “I don’t care,” I was filled with pride.

Somewhere along the way, Nico stopped creating art and jewelry in Pride colors. Their identity shifts slowed until eventually, they stopped. These days, she answers to she or they pronouns, and presents as feminine. If I ask questions about gender or pronouns, she dismisses me with an I don’t care before dashing off to play Roblox with friends, or walk to the record store, or literally anything else but have this conversation with her mom.

They say they don’t care. I believe them.

Because at 14 years old, Nico seems more settled and at peace than ever.

I consider their gender journey a foundational part of Nico’s coming of age. I see their return to a feminine presentation as part of their genderfluidity. Their gender exploration has quieted, for now — perhaps for good, or perhaps not. Who knows where Nico’s gender and sexuality path may go next? That’s entirely up to them to figure out. What I do know is, exploring identity helped grow their confidence in ways I could never have imagined when they affixed their first they/them pin to their rainbow outfit.

Those pins have all but disappeared into the kiddo-clutter of our home. But I found an enamel frog pin yesterday, and it seemed like such a good omen for starting Pride month. Nico loved frogs during this era of her life, and it was a real score, finding a frog-in-a-rainbow-Pride-flag pin. Now it seems like a representation of these past three years: an adorable creature with a Pride flag unfurling on its back, inquisitive and hopeful for the future, but still looking back to me as if to say, do you see me?

Yes, little froggy, I see you.

I’m going to keep you someplace safe.

I think one day Nico will see you, too. And they’ll treasure you — and the memories you represent — with a sense of pride, and Pride.

Nico’s frog Pride enamel pin. Photo by author.

This story was originally published on June 5, 2024, as part of the Pink Hair & Pronouns Summer 2024 writing prompt, Pride & Prejudice.

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Thanks for reading.

I’m Dana DuBois, an essayist and GenX word nerd living in the Pacific Northwest—and founder of I Write Out Loud and co-host of The Daily Whatever Show. Through memoir writing, I explore the larger cultural forces shaping relationships, feminism, parenting, media, modern dating, and life in mid-flight. Em-dashes, Oxford commas, and well-placed semi-colons make my heart happy.

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