I’m sure some of you have heard by now that an Oregon
man by the name of Thomas Beatie is pregnant.

Although those of you who don’t know about Beatie and his
story might be scratching your heads, let me just say now that, yes, there’s a
catch. Beatie was born biologically female, but underwent sexual reassignment
procedures — including testosterone replacement therapy and chest
reconstruction surgery — many years ago, and is now legally recognized as a
male.

He met and fell in love with his wife, Nancy, in Hawaii,
and she became part of the reason he chose to undergo the procedure, largely
because same-sex marriages are illegal in most of the country.

But after trying to start a family, the couple found out Nancy
was infertile, so Thomas — who retained his female genitalia — temporarily
stopped his hormone therapy, located a sperm donor and recruited a team of
doctors to help him get pregnant. And it worked. His due date is in early July.

I have to give a brother credit for stepping outside the
box. Although let me be the first to acknowledge that the parents are venturing
into uncharted territory, and the kid will definitely have a few rough spots
growing up, stories like Beatie’s should inspire people to challenge
traditional preconceived gender roles.

This past weekend, I did just that. I, a bona fide male,
transformed into a tried-and-true lesbian for almost three days in Palm
Springs at a massive gathering known as Dinah Shore
Weekend, aka the premier nationwide lesbian party event. It was glorious.

My transformation didn’t become official until we got to our
hotel, which was literally crawling with women of all varieties (read: lipstick
to Amazonian). I camped on the floor of a sardine-packed room with 12 amazingly
cool chicks, who were surprised to see me yet immediately and unconditionally
welcoming.

And then the madness began. I never knew lesbians were so
hardcore: naked flip-cup tournaments in the hallway (not even joking), dancing
until the wee hours of the morning, putting French fries in a passed-out bull’s
pockets (best thing ever, Morgan), charging whiskey before noon and sneaking
into the $80 White Party with nothing more than chewing gum and unadulterated
determination.

So let me say to all you ladies, thanks for the memories.
After having so much fun with my sisters this weekend, I wouldn’t think twice
about becoming a lesbian again. And to everyone else out there who hasn’t tried
stepping out of their comfort zones, do it. You won’t be sorry.