Learning some things I didn't know about the 'bathroom' issue

I rarely learn anything from Facebook.

Oh, I have been exposed to lots of information about what a wonderful place Sarasota, Florida, is. My longtime friend Christine Miller works for the city's PR department and she does an excellent job.

I'll definitely visit someday.

Except for that, though, most of what people seem to be posting these days is about the presidential campaign and how horrible Hillary Clinton and/or Donald Trump are.

It's not really worth it to argue that particular topic. I can spend hours explaining to someone why Trumpers would be a disaster as president and all I'll get in response is that Hillary is worse. It's like arguing climate change and hearing just "Al Gore is fat" in response.

But last night I saw a wonderful argument from a surprising source. It isn't that I was surprised by her intelligence. She's one of the smartest people I know, but it's the first time I can remember her checking in on an issue on Facebook.


The issue was the latest hot button one for the Religious Right. The battle over which restroom transgendered children should be forced to use at school. It's an issue that the right has demagogued to the max, going on and on about hulking men dressed as women attacking little girls in the ladies room.

Enter the surprising source.

My daughter Pauline, left,
 eight or nine years ago in Beijing with her boss.

"Transgendered people are some of the most vulnerable people in the country- they are routinely beat up, shunned, 'correctively" raped, killed, commit suicide and all for the 'crime' of feeling like they were born in the wrong body.

"Imagine that you were born, an adorable little girl named Amanda. And as you grew up, your mother dressed you in beautiful dresses, put bows in your hair, and you knew, but couldn't quite put the words to it, but you knew that something was terribly wrong. That you should be dressing like your neighbor, a little boy, with his hair cut short.

"And throughout your childhood, you tried to act 'natural,' you remember the horrified look on your parents' faces when you tried to tell them there was something wrong with you. You find solace online with others life you, you see how some of these new friends commit suicide due to the pressure, you think about it everyday- do you keep living a lie?

"Do you accept that you weren't born in the right body and do something? It goes horribly wrong, your parents disown you, you lose everyone you thought you loved you, you run away, you move somewhere new and try to build a new life in your new gender.

"And then one day, you are at Macy's. You finally bought those pants you've been wanting for work. And you need to pee. You've been on hormone therapy for years. All of your friends only know you as 'Gary.' What do you do, Gary? Which bathroom do you go to? Do you risk being beaten again? Do you risk being shunned again? What do you do?

"All the cisgender people you know think transgendered people are pedophiles. The thought of harming another human being as you and those like you have been harmed turns your stomach. You know that their fear of you justifies, in their minds, shunning you, beating you, staring at you, killing you. Please Gary, tell me, what do you do? You just need to pee. Do you risk it?"

My daughter Pauline isn't a millennial. I think she fits into the beginning of what they call Generation Y, but one thing definitely true is that she is an amazing person. I believe she'll be an ambassador or an undersecretary someday, and I have little doubt she would make a wonderful president if it weren't for the native-born clause in the Constitution.

But what's equally wonderful is that she is raising three incredible children and making motherhood every bit the priority her career is.

As I said, I rarely learn anything from Facebook, but hey, my daughter hit me with a word I didn't even know.

Cisgender.

At first I felt goofy, but when I looked it up, I learned it is a word that has been around for less than 20 years.

So I'm not ignorant. Just old.

But not too old to learn.

Thank you, Pauline.