I know mine began when I was a little girl. My parents divorced when I was 13-years-old and my sisters and I lived with our mother. Without a man around the house, my mother, grandmother, and aunt taught us to be strong willed and feisty young women that stood up for ourselves and fought to support our family. We carried our own luggage and did our own home repairs.

As soon as I could drive, I chauffeured my little sister around town daily to the dance studio, community groups, and school. I pitched in when my mother had to stay late at work or was too exhausted after a long day to run errands.

So it is no surprise looking back that I took matters into my own hands the day that my little sister’s mobile phone was confiscated by the Middle School Principal. When I pulled the car up to the front of the school, I noticed my sister was crying. I immediately slammed on the breaks and jumped out of the car. She told me that the Principal took it up after the final school bell. She said we would have to pay $50.00 to get it back.

“Like hell we will,” I hissed as I marched into the Principal’s office and demanded he return the mobile phone immediately.

I was only 16-years-old but I was fierce. Well, fierce and stupid.

It’s an explosive combination that served me well during my wife’s transition.