At my son’s eighth birthday, my parents handed him a plain pair of gray socks and said one sentence that made the whole backyard go quiet. My little boy tried to smile through it, but I saw his face change. Twenty minutes later, I walked back outside with a folder in my hand, and by the time my brother opened it, nobody at that table was laughing anymore.
My name is Renee El Carver. I’m 34 years old. If you had asked me a week ago what my…