I Keep Queer Kids Safe by Helping Parents Grow

Hello! (And for some of you, Hello again!)

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how different Rainbow Roots feels from the version I was preparing to launch last winter, and the more I sit with that difference, the more grateful I am that the project had to stop until this fall.

The mission itself never changed. I still want fewer LGBTQ+ kids feeling unsafe, unwanted, misunderstood, or emotionally stranded in their own homes, and I still believe one of the most effective ways to get there is by working with the adults who love them and sometimes have absolutely no idea what to do next. What changed was my understanding of what that work actually requires from me.

When I first started building Rainbow Roots, I was very focused on being gentle because I knew I wanted parents to feel like they could ask a question here without being embarrassed, shamed, or made to feel stupid for not already knowing the answer. I still care deeply about that. I think adults learn better when they are given room to be honest about what they do not understand, especially when they are already carrying fear, family history, religion, politics, generational expectations, or the very real worry that one wrong move could damage the relationship they have with their child.

But somewhere along the way, I also realized I was sometimes confusing gentleness with overprotection. Then came to the realization that parents can handle honesty, even when it can be brutal.

We are allowed to say that sometimes we screw this up badly. We are allowed to admit that there are moments when we react from our own discomfort instead of actually listening to what our child is trying to tell us. We can look back at something we said six months ago and realize it probably hurt. We can discover that a belief we have carried for years does not hold up very well once the complete opposite of that belief is sitting across from us at the dinner table wearing our kid’s face.

That does not make the conversation hopeless. It makes it real.

I have spent a lot of time over the last several months thinking about the kind of space Rainbow Roots needs to be if it is going to be genuinely useful, and I keep coming back to the same thing: parents deserve a place where they can learn without being humiliated, while also being trusted enough to hear the truth when something needs to change. That is a balance I care about.

I want to talk about LGBTQ+ kids and what safety actually looks like in ordinary family life. I want to talk about neurodivergence and disability in ways that feel practical instead of clinical. I want to talk about school, communication, boundaries, faith, family dynamics, grief, repair, and the strange little moments that end up carrying much more emotional weight than we realize at the time.

I also want to leave room for humor because families are absurd and parenting is humbling in ways nobody really warns you about. Sometimes the best thing you can do after a difficult conversation is learn something, apologize, make a better choice next time, and then laugh about the fact that you apparently needed a seventeen-year-old to explain a concept you were absolutely certain you understood.

That has happened in my house more than I care to admit.

So yes, Rainbow Roots is coming back on October 1, and I am excited about that. I am also coming back with a much clearer sense of how I want to speak here. I am still going to be kind, I’ll be direct when the moment calls for it, and I’m going to swear. Unapologetically.

And I am going to trust that the parents who find this community are capable of learning, changing, repairing, and becoming safer people for the kids they love. That feels much closer to the Rainbow Roots I meant to build in the first place.

Thank you, and don’t forget to take good care of yourself today.