Hays appeals not only to the readers’ morals, but also uses scientific data, religious practices, and historical facts to educate the reader on what it means to be transgender ... This memoir is Hays’ opportunity to tell her daughter – and everyone else in the transgender community – that they aren’t less than, but whole and wonderful and capable, and they should continue to live their lives full of love and hope, versus the fear and shame many out there try to wield ... a brilliant compilation of science, history, gender equality, community, culture, religion, politics, the patriarchy, and unconditional love, weaved into a narrative that is vital to our culture. The story is nothing new. It is a story as old as time, but only now is it being given the awareness it deserves. It’s about people being treated fairly and accepted for who they are, not who society wants them to be. It is about intolerance and fear and support and empathy, but most of all, it’s a story of love and joy.
Availing itself of this form, Hays’s book is at once powerfully intimate and frustratingly pamphlet-like, particularly when the narration becomes impersonal and omniscient, peppered with random references to nonconformity, gender and otherwise, from throughout history ... The book is more moving when Hays trains her powers of observation on the sheer wonder of a child in bloom.
... a jittery, energetic, wise, practical, hopeful book for parents of transgender kids, especially girls, especially those who say who they are when they’re young. Trans readers might find it pedestrian or predictable; cisgender parents of trans kids need it now ... here (as elsewhere) the volume can feel a bit dated. Not only does trans community feel broader than ever, in 2022, but it includes more people who can’t live as cis, being neither men nor women ... Hays’s decision to use pseudonyms and blur her locations, seems prudent, though it robs Hays’s memoir of sensory detail ... What Hays forsakes in description, she makes up for in good advice ... a wonderful 'letter,' a memoir, a parenting book, not just about being a mom, but about discovering how hard institutions try to protect 'the white, straight, cisgender, upwardly mobile able-bodied Christian, American family.' We learn with her (if we did not already know) how other families — that is, most families, not only trans ones — can cherish one another, and seek help, and take care of ourselves.
