This is Molly. Anneke's little sister. Up until she entered our lives I was under a bit of a delusion that my cool, feminist mom'ness contributed to raising a tough, butch, non-girly girl. I was deeply proud of this fact and often took credit for having such a unique little girl. I have hairy legs, don't wear make-up, never bought Barbie's and steered clear of most things pink. Well Molly has taught me that I have nothing to do with it. It is clearly nature, not nurture.
Much to her sister's horror, Molly is a princess. If she could cover herself in sparkles and dress like a drag queen every day she would. She is my mother incarnated - anyone who has met my mother will understand.
Despite the four and a half year age difference and the clear differences in gender identity, they love eachother deeply. We moved a couple years ago so that each kid could have their own bedroom. Within two nights they were moving furnature so that they could sleep in the same room, often in the same bed. Anneke even tollerates the pink room to be with her sister. She has covered her side of the room with posters of Sidney Crosby, Mats Sundin and numerous Sports Illustrated cut-outs.
Last September when Anneke and I returned from the Gender Spectrum Families Conference (www.genderspectrumfamily.org) we both learned how important siblings are to the journey of a transgendered child. Anneke came home and asked Molly how she would feel if s/he decided to transition from female to male. Molly just shrugged, and said "It would be fine. You're already a boy - you're just Anneke." We laughed as a family. To Molly it was simple. She spoke of pure acceptance and love. Nothing to her would really change. It was a short conversation. "Can I finish watching Hannah Montanna now?"
"Sure." I said.
Molly is a gift to us all.