Welp. It’s Week 7 of the NFL and the discourse about male cheerleaders has been making the rounds for a while. Again. I personally don’t understand the negativity. Especially when people say, “I’d never let my kid do that.” Do what, exacty?

So, your little boy wants to be a cheerleader. And? Seriously. What are we doing here? He just wants to do cheer. Nobody died. Nobody lost a constitutional right. The family name will survive. Get the kid some pom-poms.

My youngest actually did cheer for a season or two when they were little, and here is my favorite part of that story: The cheer coaches recruited them. My kid was about seven years old, always dancing to the music on the sidelines, and had already learned some of the cheers just from hanging around. The coaches were basically like, “Why is this child not on our team?” They did not care about gender. They were recruiting ENERGY.

They saw a kid who could perform, had rhythm, knew the cheers, loved the spotlight, and was already halfway into the routine anyway. Honestly, that may be one of the healthiest ways I have ever seen adults affirm a child’s interests. The athletic director didn’t halt the process to conduct a gender analysis and nobody tried to predict who this seven-year-old would become at eighteen. They just looked at the kid and went, “Oh, you clearly want to do this. Let’s fucking go.” And my kid had a blast.

They genuinely loved the performing. Loved the energy. Loved being in front of people. What they did NOT love was practicing being a back base in hundred-degree Sacramento heat. Which was apparently where they finally located a boundary. So they cheered for a while, learned a few new things about themselves, and eventually moved on. They didn’t end up having an identity crisis, and western civilization didn’t collapse. They were just a kid trying something they liked. Imagine that. And somehow adults have managed to turn situations like this into a referendum on masculinity.

People still get deeply weird about boys doing anything coded feminine, especially if there is glitter and sequins involved. A boy wants to dance, cheer, wear something bright, do theater, play with makeup, or enjoy anything that does not fit somebody’s idea of what boys are supposed to like, and suddenly grown adults are acting like somebody needs to convene a congressional hearing. Y’all. It’s just cheerleading. Calm the fuck down.

If a seven-year-old shaking their hips and yelling a cheer threatens your understanding of masculinity, the seven-year-old is probably not the part of this situation that needs examining. And this is where parents can accidentally hand their own anxiety to the kid. We start thinking about what other people might say before the child has even had a chance to enjoy the thing. Will they get teased? Will somebody make a comment? Will Grandpa have an opinion? Will another dad at practice suddenly decide this is somehow his business? Maybe.

People can be ridiculous. But I do not want my child’s first lesson about something they love to be that other people’s discomfort gets veto power. That is where parents have to get very clear. Your job is not to make your kid less interesting so strangers behave better. Your job is to pay attention to whether the environment is safe, whether the adults in charge will protect them, and whether your kid is actually enjoying themselves. Those are useful questions.

“Will this make some grown adult uncomfortable?” is not especially useful. And yes, there may be practical safety things to think about. Ask the coaches how they handle bullying. Pay attention to locker rooms and changing spaces. Listen when your kid tells you something feels off. Know whether the adults running the program will actually step in if another child or parent gets ugly. THAT is parenting. But please do not confuse safety planning with preemptively shrinking your kid. Those are two very different things.

Here is what those cheer coaches understood when my kid was seven that some adults still struggle with: Kids bring you information about themselves all the time. This kid likes performing. This one wants to tackle people on a football field. This one wants tap shoes. This one apparently knows the entire cheer routine despite never having attended a practice. Pay attention to the kid in front of you. You do not need to run every interest through a gender filter before you let them enjoy it.

And, I will tell you something else. My youngest’s cheer experience was actually more welcoming than some of the football spaces my oldest encountered. Make of that what you will.

Sometimes the activity adults assume will be “hard” for a kid is the place where they are celebrated, while the supposedly traditional one is where everybody starts acting weird about who gets to belong. Kids notice that. They notice where adults relax around them. They notice where they are treated like a problem. They notice where they are allowed to be excited. And they learn something about us from what we protect.

So if your little boy wants to be a cheerleader, let him try cheer. If he loves it, fantastic. If he hates it, also useful information. If he does it for two seasons and quits because he is tired of sweating through July? Honestly, relatable.

Childhood is supposed to have room for experimentation. Your kid does not need to know exactly who they are before they are allowed to enjoy being themselves. And if somebody else thinks a boy with pom-poms is a threat to society, that sounds like something they can unpack with another adult – and preferably far, far away from your kid.

That’s all for now. For more, please visit rainbowrootsmedia.com. And don’t forget to take good care of yourself today.