“Oh, relax,” he says, ruffling my daughter’s wispy blonde hair. “We’re just playing.” By Lisa Norgren
I am ashamed to admit I believed you were a good man who deserved to be forgiven. By Jo Hall
I want my nine-year-old to carry herself without shame. By Daisy Alpert Florin
I don’t care for any “sexy” clothing on little girls. By Sharon Holbrook
Perhaps by allowing my daughter to experiment with her appearance and create her own reality, I can put the power back in her hands. By Erin Ott
We are forever snarled in each other’s hair, my daughter and I, invested in the consistency of the people we know best and need most. By Leslie Kendall Dye
Maybe she will meet the “right” guy or girl. Maybe she will never be interested in sex.
By Melanie Lopez
Mothers are not static entities. We evolve in this role, as in any other.
By Lauren Apfel
There’s so much against you: the world’s cruel prejudices, its judgment.
By April Vázquez
For black women, wearing our hair in its natural state was—and still is, to some extent—considered defiant.
By Margaret Auguste