David Minerva Clover

David Minerva Clover

Bio

David Minerva Clover is a queer and transgender writer, covering everything from parenting to why dinosaurs are awesome. His work has appeared in The Washington Post, New York Mag, The Establishment, and many other places. He lives in beautiful Detroit Michigan with his spouse, one child, and an embarrassment of animals. Check out his blog at Postnuclear Era or follow him on twitter at @dm_clover.

David Minerva Clover Articles

Who's allowed to have kids?

Life At The Intersections: Class, Shame, And Queer Parenting

In today’s world, children may be a financial liability, but that shouldn’t make them a luxury item.

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Nowadays, if I eat more than two slices of pizza in front of anyone other than my wife, things get weird.

It's Only Cute When Skinny Girls Eat Pizza

Thin women can overeat, and it is seen as a quirk, or a one-time indulgence they deserve, or even proof that they aren’t anorexic. Fat women though? We are expected to constantly prove that we’re doing our best to not be fat.

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I love trick-or-treating, and I’m here to preach its gospel.

Trick-Or-Treating Isn't Dangerous — It's Community Building​

I think kids and parents need old school trick-or-treating. I think it has a value far greater than the sum of its candy. I love trick-or-treating!

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For years, I fell into tropes popularized by the romantic comedy genre, without even realizing it. (Image: Thinkstock)

I Hate Romantic Comedies, So Why Do They Matter?

Here’s the thing though, hating romantic comedies, and avoiding them when I could, didn’t stop me from absorbing their all consuming messages about love, sex, and romance.

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Yes, we should be criticizing these straight, cisgender dads. We’ve been far too easy on them for too long.

We're Too Easy On (Straight, Cisgender) Dads

Yes, we should be criticizing these straight, cisgender dads. We’ve been far too easy on them for too long. It’s straight out of the patriarchy playbook.

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It was like a part of myself woke up, but it was a part of myself that I was sure was dirty and wrong; a part of myself that I was sure I could squish down if I just tried hard enough.

I Just Have To Tell Someone About This Weird Thing I Do: On Discovering Masturbation

It was like how you might feel if you thought you were the only person who liked apples. Maybe everyone else just thought apples were for decoration, but you liked to eat them. And then one day you found someone else who also ate apples, and you got really excited about that! And then suddenly, it hit you… What if everybody secretly ate and enjoyed apples, only we were all too afraid to mention it?

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My kid, who turned three the day after Mary the duckling died, wasn’t old enough to get any of it.

Talking To Toddlers About Death And Poultry Is Unnerving

My kid, who turned three the day after Mary the duckling died, wasn’t old enough to get any of it. Yet talking to toddlers about death is part of life.

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I am surprisingly unstressed about the amount of screen time our 1 year old is getting. Image: Thinkstock.

Why I'm Not That Worried About Screen Time

Once upon a time, the only thing to consider was “Does your kid watch too much TV?” But now it seems like nearly everyone can agree that kids these days spend far too much time looking at screens of all sorts.

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He's a baby, not a "man."

Please Stop Calling My Child 'Little Man'

We’re trying to raise him with a lot of options and very few assumptions, but I won’t be mad at you if you call my kid “handsome little boy” or something. It’s fine. People have a hard time talking about babies without gendered labels. Even I have a hard time with it, and I’ve put a kind of ridiculous amount of energy into analyzing this stuff.

However, I do have one favor to ask. Please, for the love of everything that is good in this world, stop calling him “little man.”

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Breastfeeding saved my life.

Breastfeeding Literally Saved My Life

Breastfeeding brought me back. It kept me in my body, forced me to hold my son’s body, and helped me stay connected to the physical reality of everything. What I remember are flashes of joy in the darkness, his tiny hands clenched in determined fists. His feet curled against my soft stomach. The release of the milk starting to flow. My arms wrapped up around him.

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