After a smooth delivery, my first child was born. It turned out to be a big girl of over four kilos who looked around very calmly and curiously. We named her Emma.
Emma was three years old when she first asked when she was going to have a penis. A question she would ask more often, but which I assumed was a phase. I didn’t pay much attention to it, but I did decide she needed to feel good and loved for who she was. Not for what she looked like. And so Emma quickly developed an extra sense for all the clothes that came from the girls’ department. She firmly refused it. It became boys’ clothing and those beautiful blond locks up to her shoulders also had to believe in it.