Call me Dee
Every time someone calls me Dee, or Dee Dee, when talking to my little one, I get this joyous flutter in my heart.
Years ago, when I first came out, my friends sung happy birthday to me using my chosen name. It feels so silly to say, but it meant the absolute world to me. I cherish that memory, and think of it often. We’ve all heard that song a thousand times, but that night it was like hearing it for the first time. Because it was finally being sung to me.
This is what being called Dee means now. It doesn’t involve the internal wincing and the not-quite-right feeling that comes with femme gendered language directed at me. And without that, I’m free to be myself and be the best parent I can be.
A lot of people have this perception that trans people are hyper-sensitive and always ready to call you out when you get it wrong. For me, I like to call it out when it’s right, because perhaps sharing what that feels like will help people understand that affirmation is all it takes.
I don’t correct people when they misgender me, nor do I fault them for it; they’ve been told to use sharpened pencils and colour in the lines their whole lives and I’m over here cutting up magazines and gluing down old wrappers to the same picture.
My parent name is Dee, to honour my Mum who we call Jenna Dee. She has always been the grounding light in my life who has shown me all the paths and then said bugger it, make your own and I’ll come too. She is a quiet, steady force and those who are honoured to be loved by her always know that love and feel it deeply.
So when people call me ‘Mum’, I choose to take it as a compliment. And then I think, my baby gets to have a Mum and a Dee, and we all just show up for each other as ourselves.