But, being an athlete, a firefighter, and a cop, I have spent a lot of time in locker rooms and around guys who dish out homophobic slurs like turkey on Thanksgiving. Faggot. Queer. Gay. Homo. Cocksucker. I started to notice the slurs more after I met my future brother-in-law. Then, I had a son who—as he describes himself—only likes girl stuff and wants to be treated like a girl, and those insults started to get under my skin in a new way.

Sometimes I’ll call people out when they use them.

“Bro, I was just joking. You know I was kidding. What’s your problem?”

Those are the responses I get.

Here’s the thing. When you use those words as a way to degrade or get the upper hand on someone, you are implying that to be a man who is gay or effeminate is to be “lesser than.” Now, when I hear those words, I feel like you are calling my son and people like him “lesser than.” I won’t stand for that. Get a dictionary. Learn some new words.

I don’t tell most of the guys who I work with at the police department about my son. It’s none of their business and I don’t trust them with the information. I don’t trust what they might think or say behind my back when they should just say it to my face. I don’t trust them with a kid as kick-ass and special as mine.

My close friends know. And I know that they are my close friends because they don’t give a shit. They don’t care what toys my son likes or how he chooses to dress. They just care that he is happy and healthy and that I’m being a good dad.

I've slipped at times and told some of the other guys in my life.

“Man, how do you deal with that? I couldn't do it. Not in my house,” they've said.

What does all of that mean? You couldn't parent a kid like mine? You’d be his first bully and “make him a man?” To me, that makes you less of a man. Much of the time when I confront such people they immediately begin to backpedal and try to move on. I’m not afraid of this discussion and many don’t choose to argue with me or defend their position.

To me, loving a child who is different, a target and seen as vulnerable is my role as a father and decent human being. He’s just as special to me and loved by me as my oldest son, whose most prized possession is a pocketknife, who plays football, likes fart jokes, and is starting to notice girls.

I’m a father. I signed on for the job with no strings attached, no caveats, no conditions. I can name every Disney Princess and her movie of origin. I've painted my son's nails and rushed to remove it when he was afraid that he would get teased for wearing it. I didn't want to remove it, I wanted to follow him around and stare down anybody who even thought about teasing him. I only removed it because he started to have a panic attack. It was his decision and if he wants to edit himself to feel safer, I’ll do it. Every time. No questions asked.