My greatest anxiety? Menstruation. Not for myself — I know I’ll never have to deal with that monthly visitor. But the thought of my daughters eventually experiencing it terrified me for almost a decade. How could I guide them through this rite of passage when I felt completely unprepared? Sure, we had read the essential American Girl guide, “The Care and Keeping of You,” and they would likely hear about it from friends, right? I thought I could dodge this concern for a few more years — they had just turned ten, after all. Surely, I had some time before I needed to deal with it?
Not quite.
It was a sweltering summer morning near Seattle. I had flown across the country for my fourth intersex support group conference, an event I treasured. It was a chance to connect with others who understood me; we were sisters in shared experience. We embraced the rare and stunning orchid as a symbol of our intersex identities. While our stories were unique, we all shared the bond of being born with physical sex traits that don’t neatly fit into traditional male or female categories.
My chromosomes are XY (typically male), and instead of ovaries, I was born with internal testes and no uterus. Yes, I have a vagina — it’s shorter than most and doesn’t lead anywhere.
Being diagnosed with androgen insensitivity syndrome meant I would never menstruate or conceive children. However, I found my ultimate joy when I adopted my identical twin daughters from an orphanage in Shanghai just days before Christmas nearly two decades ago. These two amazing kids filled my life with happiness, but they also sparked anxiety about being a “real” mother — the kind who knows firsthand how to help her daughter through her first period.
Back at the intersex support group in Seattle, I could finally be my true self, free from the mask I often wore. Early that morning, as I was heading to breakfast with my orchid sisters, my phone rang. It was my partner, Mark.
“So… Mia got her period this morning,” he said.
My immediate reaction? Relief. I wasn’t there to mess anything up.
The irony that it happened while I was at my annual intersex conference wasn’t lost on me.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I went to the store and got her a pack of sanitary pads. I showed her where the instructions were, and then took her to day camp.”
I quickly hung up and called the camp nurse to ensure she was prepared to help Mia. She chuckled as I explained the situation. “Mia came to see me this morning. Your partner bought her slim panty liners, but they were not enough for what she needed. She bled through her shorts. We took care of it, though, and she now knows what to get. Maybe tonight, have Mark take her to the store so she can pick out what she needs.”
I was so thankful for the nurse’s understanding and wisdom. She undoubtedly had personal experience and knew how to explain these changes to young girls. Had I been at home instead of Mark, I likely would have made the same mistake with the panty liners. I had no clue what a 10-year-old girl would really need for her first period, just as inexperienced as my partner.
As time passed, I connected with more intersex individuals. There are many conditions under the intersex umbrella, leading to diverse bodies and identities. Some identify as men, some as women, and some as neither. Some, like me, have been fortunate enough to become parents, whether through adoption, surrogacy, or egg donation. Many choose to keep their intersex status private, and I respect that choice. But for me, living authentically was essential to overcoming my struggles with self-acceptance. I came out publicly a couple of years after my daughters’ first periods, hoping to inspire others in the intersex community.
I’d be lying if I said my fears didn’t shift from periods to worrying about how my public advocacy as an intersex woman might affect my daughters. One evening, Mia left a pile of her 8th-grade assignments on the kitchen table. Among them, I noticed a yellow worksheet where she had written about someone she admired. She had chosen me, stating that I was intersex and brave for speaking out and helping others. I couldn’t help but tear up, realizing my daughter felt empowered to share our story.
The following year, as the girls wrapped up 9th grade, I received an email from one of their health teachers. During a class discussion on LGBTQ+ topics, Mia had raised her hand to clarify the definition of intersex, saying, “You should talk to my mom, she is intersex and an advocate.” The teacher invited me to discuss intersex issues with the health and biology departments the next September. The kids are alright.
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Summary
This article reflects on the journey of a mother navigating her intersex identity while raising her daughters. It highlights the challenges of guiding them through milestones like the first period, emphasizing the importance of community support and open dialogue. Through personal anecdotes, the mother showcases her growth and commitment to authenticity, instilling pride and confidence in her children.