Dear mom,

What is it like to have a daughter who talks about the negative impact of purity culture? And teaches blow job classes? And makes dumb *hilarious* videos about sex on Instagram? I wouldn't even begin to know, but you do seem to be proud...which is a testament to your openness and curiosity about life.

What I do know is what it's like to have you as a mom. It's fantastic, and I'd like to thank you for a few things. This is of course not an exhaustive list, but a few things I've thought about recently, now that my own daughters are 10.

Mom, thank you for:

1) Getting me a horse when I was 8. You and dad knew it would help me understand the value and reward of working hard and being responsible for something outside of myself. It also kept me out of trouble, which was probably your ultimate plan. Sneaky and smart!

2) Helping me know the suffering of others. I was a small Texas town, middle-class privileged white kid, and you understood the importance of requiring me to read and talk about Grapes of Wrath, The Jungle and Hiroshima. (Classic English teacher move.) I remember feeling uncomfortable and squirmy as we discussed the content in each episode of Roots which was based on Alex Haley's novel. In the 90's you had a t-shirt that said, "Nobody's born a bigot,' which seemed so strange to me then, and is so badass to me now. You modeled for me what it looks like to use your voice and speak up when you witness injustice.

3) Not losing your shit, like ever...even when I tried smoking cigarettes. As I recall, you actually laughed at me. You said nothing demeaning when I fervently told you I wanted to become a model on the "Price is Right" because it looked easy. You didn't even bat an eye when I accidently drove the Honda too fast in first gear on the back roads and blew the transmission.

4) Taking me to see Maya Angelou speak when I was a young, silly 24 year old who didn't understand the impact Ms. Angelou would have on my life and millions of others.

5) Not just allowing, but encouraging me to be exactly who I am. A sex professional, a homebody and a questioner. A daughter who interrogates your very own faith and is still unbelievably grateful that you and your mom's prayer group prayed for me and Devon every Tuesday for decades. Thank you for letting me be me.

6) Not making me read Jane Eyre more than once. I don't care how feminist it is, I hated it.

Mom, I don't know what it is like to be you, but I do know what it is like to be your only daughter. And let me tell you, I am unfathomably lucky.

I love you.

Celeste