Our child died from an overdose of OxyContin. NOT from an overdose of pink.
In the last two and a half years, there has been a wide variety of theories, rumors and explanations for our sixteen year-old daughter's death being floated about when people assume that we are out of earshot. The most egregious of these, I have heard all too often and no less than three times in the last week … enough to tip the scale in the favor of tongue-unbiting.
Our child did not die because we let her be a girl, or as some have phrased it, because we “let him pretend to be a girl”. She died because someone knowingly or unknowingly made available to her their prescription medication and she chose to take it, feeling (I suspect) as invincible as every other sixteen year-old does. And I mention this here and now because the next time I hear that some ignorant asshole has been yammering on about shit they don't know shit about, I will not give them the courtesy of leveling this warning shot across the bow.