By Kelsey Rust

Gender identity has flourished for Gen Z. Children and teenagers are identifying themselves with sexualities that I had never heard of at their age: pansexual, asexual, demisexual, and many more. This movement is one that I can see both in my workplace as an educator and at home as a mother.

I can vividly recall the conversation that led up to my daughter sharing her newly discovered sexuality with me. We were walking on the side of a busy inter-city street toward a nook in the wall that fed into a small neighbourhood stretch where I had parked my car so that I could pick her up from school. 

Prior to this conversation, I had a feeling that she had been discovering different gender and sexual identities from Youtube videos she’d created with animated ‘Gacha’ characters. I began to notice symbols of the LGBTQ+ community as the foreground of her ‘OCs’ (original characters). During our walk, I admitted to seeing those videos and asked why she was making them.  

‘I was afraid you’d be mad at me.’ She began tearing up as she said this. I reassured her that I wasn’t, that there was nothing to be worried about. ‘I’m bisexual,’ she confessed. 

After admitting her identity, we had a long conversation about what that word meant to her and when she had started to feel that way. We talked about the issues she may face with our predominantly Republican family in the future. I was careful not to suggest that she might have been influenced by friends or what she sees online – I needed her to believe that I believed her.

In any case, I wasn’t surprised by this news. I was given clues through the content my daughter was watching online and the sudden sexuality changes I heard about in her friend group. First it was Isabella, who came out as pansexual, and then Racheal, then Corrine* (although she’s still questioning, my daughter told me). In my mind, it was only a matter of time before it was my daughter too. Let me also mention that these girls are all eleven years old. 

I’m an educator in New Mexico, and I’ve also taken note of identity shifts with the high schoolers that I work with. Many of my students have changed their given names to better connect to their identity. One student changed their name twice in one semester. 

I don’t see this movement of sexual experimentation and new identities as harmful. Sometimes, though, I do question whether some of these children reimagine themselves intrinsically or whether external factors play into it. Is this another way adolescents are trying to fit into this ever-complex world? 

My daughter is strikingly aware of others’ identities. She’s always wary of how to term someone she does not know. I have conversations with her where she will carefully articulate someone’s pronouns, ‘They seem like they’re nice. I mean, I don’t know how they identify themselves.’ This level of careful consideration for others never crossed my mind at her age. This level of consideration can only be a good thing.

Every day, I find myself learning from my daughter and my students. I tread softly when labelling my students at work, mentally hitting myself if I slip up and address a whole class as ‘you guys’. I make sure I clearly call a student by their chosen name, not their name on the school roster, and use names instead of pronouns: ‘Cynthia’s desk is next to yours’ instead of ‘HER desk is next to yours’. 

I continue to worry sometimes that my daughter’s sexual identity is due to a cultural phenomenon rather than a personal choice. But even if it changes, all I can do as a supportive parent is believe her here and now when she tells me who she is. 

How do I help navigate a world that I’m not a part of? That I’ve been taught to never talk about, or worse, make fun of? Growing up, I’d watch The Simpsons or Family Guy where they’d poke fun of the tropes of being a ‘she-male’ or ‘dyke’, which is obviously highly offensive. It was only during the Tumblr days that I understood the momentous spectrum of people who were a part of the LGBTQ+ movement, and even then, it was overwhelming. 

Perhaps it’s not my place to help navigate my daughter through this phase in her life, but I do feel a responsibility to protect her. I made it clear that I thought she should only share who she is when she feels like she’s with people and friends who care about her. As an educator in the United States, I’m well aware of the emotional trauma and bullying that can occur for students who are LGBTQ+. I’m also aware of the suicide rates among those students. I worry about the battles my daughter may find herself in. At the end of the day, all I can do is support her.

*All names were changed to protect the privacy of children in this essay.