I am a slut.

[patrice]

17. '... live in the real world.' One of my biggest concerns was that, given what I personally know

about "being a slut", which I prefer to characterize as the awesome power of being a woman, I feared losing her to secrecy and fear and entering that whole crazy maze of deflection and avoidance, instead of sharing whatever she chose to share with me and having that experience as a mother of another woman.

What is needed is attentive appropriateness. My worst problem with her was that she wouldn't keep reasonable hours. Part of that was that she did everything and did it all very well, including successful socializing; since everything except "curfew" was working fine, I found no grounds to interfere with her. I'll always remember when she invited me to go to her soon-to-be university for parents' day. She had come through it all: sex, drugs, alcohol, and rock 'n' roll and when she got to university she was not one bit confused. I walked with her on parents' day; she knew exactly where she wanted to go, whom she wanted to talk to, what questions she was ready to ask, how to figure out everything about this new environment . . . . Not all young people are like this, but a significant number more of them could be if we'd let them know that it IS okay.

These are HER traits; I can't take credit for that much, some was me, some was her strong secure-male peaceful father, some my huge family where she lived around her peer cousins and adults like her parents, and some was certain ones of her teachers who encouraged her mind and validated her different -ness.