Allow: A Word for 2026

As this new year begins, I’ve been sitting with a word that feels quieter than resolution, but far more sustaining.

My word for 2026 is allow.

For me, this isn’t about stepping back or disengaging. It’s about loosening my grip on how things are supposed to unfold, and choosing instead to meet what’s actually here with curiosity, steadiness, and trust. It’s about letting life show me what it needs, rather than trying to steer it toward a predetermined outcome.

This feels especially important in my work with parents of trans and non-binary kids.

I’m deeply grateful for the ways this work is growing. I’m having meaningful connection calls, collaborating with thoughtful professionals, continuing my own training, and learning constantly from the parents and young people who trust me with their stories. All of that feels energizing and alive. And at the same time, I’m aware of how easy it would be to slip into striving, to measure success by numbers, visibility, or momentum rather than by impact and integrity.

Choosing allow is my way of staying grounded. It’s a reminder that I don’t need to force growth or chase outcomes for this work to matter. When I stay present, responsive, and open, the right conversations tend to find their way to me.

This word matters just as much in my life as a parent.

Loving a trans child has taught me, again and again, that support doesn’t come from control or certainty. It comes from relationship. From paying attention. From being willing to learn in real time. I want to allow my daughter to lead when it comes to her life — her sense of safety, her engagement with the world, her politics, her relationships, her joys and frustrations. My role isn’t to get ahead of her or to manage her process. It’s to walk alongside her with steadiness and care.

Allowing also means staying open to what trans and non-binary people continue to teach me about gender, identity, and humanity more broadly. These conversations don’t just expand my understanding as a coach or a parent. They invite me to reflect on my own assumptions, my own conditioning, and the ways all of us are shaped by the stories we inherit.

There is something profoundly grounding about letting learning be ongoing rather than something we rush to complete.

As we move into this new year, I’m not setting an agenda for who I need to become or how fast things should move. I’m choosing to trust that when I show up with care, openness, and a willingness to listen, the next steps will make themselves known.

Allow feels like an invitation to stay connected to my work, to my child, to this community, and to myself, without needing to grip so tightly.

That feels like exactly the kind of foundation I want for the year ahead.