As we enter June, I find myself reflecting on courage. Not the courage that makes headlines. Not the courage that wears a cape. The courage that wakes up every morning and chooses authenticity. The courage to stand in your truth when the world would rather hand you a script. The courage to question what you’ve been taught, to release what no longer fits, and to become who you were always meant to be. Today, I pause—not to explain, not to justify—but to honor my firstborn son (biologically)! To witness her walking her path with a bravery that humbles me. Transitions are not gentle things. They ask for faith. For resilience. For fire. For becoming. And against every prediction, every judgment, every weight, and every odd stacked against her, she continues to rise into herself. I am proud. Not the loud, performative kind of pride, but the deep, soul-level pride of a mother watching her child choose authenticity over comfort, truth over expectation, and joy over fear. As Pride M...