By Noah Racey

My father taught me how to wear a dress.

Not so much in the traditional way one might imagine wearing a dress, but in a more metaphoric way.

Those who know him wouldn’t be surprised to hear that my father has been many different images of “man” during my life: a learned man of letters, PhD professor; a burly, bearded foreman of a 360-foot seafood processing ship, bellowing orders to his crew; a linen-clad guru, teaching yoga, leading meditations, offering counsel to many people; and at times an elegant creature of ambiguous gender in a flowing dress and a wig – with bling, always with bling, lots of silver rings and bracelets.

In my youth, I had very strong feelings about what my father, any father, was supposed to look and act like; times of conflict and resentment, of being teased by classmates and feeling deep, debilitating shame upon shame when I would abandon him, turning on him to escape my own embarrassment. I saw his lack of consistency as nothing but a weakness, an inability to do something everyone else was doing the correct way.

Now, in this day of brave emotional excavation and examination of gender stereotypes, it’s easier to see the current of strength that has run through his life; strength to trust in his feelings, strength to weather the slights of ignorance and fear. My father’s parade of personas is summed up by an over-arching theme that IT IS ALL A FORM OF DRAG.

Not one of us comes to this party knowing the rules, understanding how it’s supposed to be done. We are all new to this thing, we’re trying on these dresses, these overalls, these costumes of one kind or another to see how they fit, trying on the roles of son, wife, brother, father, mayor, cook, shop-owner. The unspoken conceit that everyone knows how this is supposed to be done — how being a man, being human is supposed to make sense — is such a misleading thing.

When I look at my father, where I once saw an inconsistent, God-sized being, I now see a man who has always endeavored to be his most authentic self, listening to the way life burns within him, picking out a costume that matches and unabashedly wearing it to the best of his ability. I have tried to do that as gracefully as I can.

Happy Father’s Day. And don’t forget your bling!

Noah Racey divides his time between Orcas Island and New York City.