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

"We are counting it as a win. We left early, but it was still a huge win." Image: Thinkstock

I Took My 1 Year Old To A Punk Music Festival. Here's What I Learned

There’s just no getting around it, and other than one half-hour spell where he sat with a good friend of ours while both of his moms took a swim, one of us had to be with him the entire weekend. And let’s be honest, because I’m “boob mom” and he was nursing even more than normal, it could never really be divided 50/50. All of that was fine, but it was often just fine, and there’s just no denying that it was a very different trip than it would have been without a kid.

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Think about it.

On Silence As A Tool For Queer Families

People see a baby and immediately imagine that the kid must have a mother and a father, who are probably married, who made that baby with good ol’ fashioned P-in-V sexual intercourse, most likely in the missionary position.

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It only reinforced and strengthened my belief that women and other people who can become pregnant have a fundamental right to decide what happens to their body.

Pregnancy Made Me More  Pro-Choice

Something had clicked in my head. Suddenly I didn't give a shit when life began or whether or not a fetus counts as a “baby.” I was overwhelmed by the new-found knowledge that pregnancy is unfairly invasive in every single way.

If you believe in bodily autonomy and consent, folks should get to consent (or not) to the process of gestation. Full stop. No caveats.

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When you hold travel up on some kind of pedestal, you sound classist as hell. Image: Joshua Earle/Unsplash.

Your Obsession With Travel Sure Feels Classist To Me

I don’t get out much — and it’s not because I don’t have a sense of adventure or don’t care about learning about the larger world: It’s because I’m broke.

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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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None of us follows any one parenting philosophy to a T; we’re all making split-second decisions about what is and isn’t dangerous.

Why We Practice Just-Keep-Them-Out-Of-The-ER Parenting

None of us follows any one parenting philosophy to a T; we’re all making split-second decisions about what is and isn’t dangerous.

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Representation for LGBTQ families matters!

Representation For LGBTQ Families Still Has A Long Way To Go

The reality is the shift is happening slowly; for queer kids, and kids of queer parents, it might be too slow. Representation for LGBTQ families matters!

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Yule is a promise: winter sucks, but spring will come again.

Centering Yule During A Month Full Of Christmas

After the solstice, the light very slowly begins to return, and every day is a little longer. Yule is a promise: winter sucks, but spring will come again.

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The whole concept of salaries for stay-at-home moms reveals both the classism in parenting culture and what we really think about poor people.

The Problem With Calculating Salaries For Stay-At-Home Moms

The whole concept of salaries for stay-at-home moms reveals both the classism in parenting culture and what we really think about poor people.

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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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