By Won Kim

I'm sure I just opened up a can of worms, but with the recent publicity surrounding the photos of the infant daughter of the "pregnant man," I couldn't pass this up. Not only is this story so multi-faceted in regards to specific hot button issues, but it also made me think about my defined perception of fatherhood.

Unless you're living in the proverbial cave or just came back from a long vacation from a remote place where no such thing like Internet exist, you probably heard of the story about the "pregnant man" Thomas Beatie. Let me give you a quick summary.

Thomas Beatie, 34, is a transgender male who first entered the world as a female named Tracy Langondino. Beatie, who once competed in a Miss Teen USA Pageant while he was a woman, made the decision as an adult to legally become a man. After taking testosterone treatments and surgically removing his breasts, Beatie began life as a man. However, the complexity of this whole story leans on the fact that Beatie decided to retain his female sexual reproductive organs. Later on in his new life as a transgender male, Beatie met his wife Nancy, 46, who already had two daughters from a previous relationship.

Although they wanted children together, Nancy already had a hysterectomy done before they had met. So, in a surprise twist, Beatie underwent artificial insemination, which led to the birth of their daughter in late June. With his appearance on Oprah while pregnant, the news of the baby's birth, and now the release of his photos to People magazine, the publicity storm has become a full-fledged hurricane.

As a dad in the traditional sense of the word, what does this story mean to me? I'll be honest, at first I thought the story was a complete gaffe and a plagiarism of Arnold Schwarzenegger's forgettable movie, Junior. Part of me wondered if a journalist in Oregon got duped and was reporting on a guy who just wanted to get his five minutes of fame. Well, not only did Beatie get his five minutes of fame, but he also kicked the doors of convention.

Beatie is currently a proud parent of a baby girl who he delivered naturally. The only thing he is unable to do is breastfeed, which his wife Nancy is doing after receiving lactation-inducing hormones. If this doesn't partly spin your head, then you've apparently seen it all.

Here's the thing, I don't want to debate issues surrounding the topic of transgender and sex change operations (although, admittedly, it's impossible to completely circumvent around those topics). Obviously, Beatie can not be considered a male in the truest sense of the word (I mean, he gave birth after all), but he is "legally" recognized as a man. And I'm sure his daughter will grow up calling him "father," which the dictionary defines as a "male parent." Still, I don't know him personally, so I'm not necessarily in a place to make broad comments regarding his personal decisions. However, I'm curious to see how this challenges your traditional view of fatherhood.

Beatie wrote an essay a few months back for The Advocate, a gay and lesbian magazine, stating, "Our situation ultimately will ask everyone to embrace the gamut of human possibility and to define for themselves what is normal." He also added that "Wanting to have a biological child is neither a male nor female desire, but a human desire."

I agree that I've always wanted kids, but never did I ever want to actually birth a child. I also had a desire to be a dad, but was under the idea that the difference between being a dad and a mom was based firmly on the fact that both have unique and distinguishable roles. Sure, you can blur the lines of who reads the bedtime stories, carries out the discipline or gives the bird and the bees talk. But can you blur the lines of who actually does the child birthing--which, last time I checked is the natural role of the mother? Or, how do you blur the lines of what differentiates a mother and a father in its most primitive form, when that which needs to be blurred defines who you are as a male and a female?

In a way, the fact that Beatie's baby was a daughter assuaged some of my curiosity and worries. The conversations will still be a bit difficult as the daughter grows up in the most non-traditional sense of a family, but imagine if the child was a boy? How do you answer the child if he wonders why the most discerning feature that categorizes a man is missing (or in Beatie's case, was never present) from his dad?

I don't question Beatie's ability to care for his child, nor do I question his ability to do "dad" things with his daughter or other children if they so desire to try again. Whether it's taking his child to the movies or playing tennis or swimming or baking cookies or vacationing, I'm sure Beatie and his wife will foster a familial environment. However, when it comes to defining Beatie as a "dad," it's hard to overlook the two fundamental commonalities that dads have shared for ages upon ages: manhood and fatherhood.

Trust me, I'm not trying to cause dads all over the Internet to thump their chests and make man-grunts in unison. But if we are to "embrace the gamut of human possibility and to define for [our]selves what is normal," as Beatie encouraged in his essay, well, I'm one that believes defining normal isn't always left to the choice of scientific innovation or reconstructive surgery or even human preference. Sure, this particular story is an anomaly of an anomaly, but with advancements in science and the movement to "embrace the gamut of human possibility," I wonder if in our rush to see the possibilities before us, we've actually forgotten to embrace humanity in its truest form?