A Father’s Day resistance movement is brewing out on social media. It’s not new, but I’ve been watching it grow on my social feeds, more this year than ever.

In the past few days, some men have noted that our yearly fathers fest serves only to remind them they have no children. Others, male and female, have remarked that the hoopla serves only to trigger memories of fathers they never knew, who abused or abandoned them, who have died. Many within the LGBTQ+ community have expressed the distaste fathers day serves, promoting toxic masculinity.

A good reason to #EndFathersDay: It’s a gendered holiday which promotes choosing violent and sexist vocabulary and singling out those who don't have fathers or identify as male or as a father. Although I’m a dad, I think it’s time to put an end to Father’s Day.

When I was a kid, I always saw myself throwing a Frisbee with my future children. But when I came out at USC in 1992, gay parenting was still in the closet. My fathering prospects seemed dim, until I met my other half. His easygoing style hinted at papa potential too.

Nine years later we trudged through mounds of paperwork and a home study so we could adopt. Our newborn immediately became the center of our lives: two middle-aged white guys with our darker-skinned daughter. We looked like Cam, Mitch and Lily on “Modern Family."

Once my little girl started nursery school, she presented us with felt pumpkins, turkey lookalikes and pipe cleaner hearts, something for every non-religious holiday, and I joyfully hung them all on the refrigerator. But when Mother’s Day rolled around, I panicked. My child has many different mothers: a godmother, two grandmothers, a birth mother. But no mom, because she has two dads.

A week before the May mommy celebrations me and my partner were approached by the preschool director. She suggested a plan: “We were thinking you could receive the tissue flowers. Your partner would get the baseball collage on Father’s Day.”

I frowned. For all the mothering I do, being labeled the matriarch was an inelegant solution. And it didn’t work. My confused daughter left her handmade papery carnations on the kitchen counter, uncertain of their rightful owner.

I know we aren’t alone in this conundrum. Recent census data indicates only 19% of homes are composed of traditional moms, dads and kids. More than 11 million residences with kids are headed by a single person or a same-sex couple. These families too have to be fumbling through one of the parents’ holidays.

There is an alternative: The All-Inclusive Parents’ Day. Signed into law by President Clinton, the occasion is observed on the fourth Sunday of July. Think of how Lincoln’s birthday and Washington’s birthday gave way to Presidents Day. Anna Jarvis, the founder of Mother’s Day, included every parental type when she wrote of a day, “for sons and daughters to honor their mothers and fathers.”

As a son, I’ll have to remember a new date and send two remembrances (flowers for mom, socks for pop). But after grappling with my gayness, adopting a baby and making sacrifices as a father every day, letting go of gendered holidays could be the easiest act yet. Not just for me, but every parent and child.

As a two-dad family, you’d think Father’s Day would be like Christmas, but it can be a logistical minefield. Who spoils who? Who gets the lie in? Who gets taken out for dinner? I’m hoping all this changes by the time the my kid gets old enough to be taking their ageing daddies out on the town.

I know we aren’t alone in this conundrum, so as another Father's Day comes and goes, let's remember the children who have a difficult time with this day. Let us begin to rethink parental roles and begin to understand the hurt many feel on Father's Day.

If we want to sincerely adopt an all inclusive Pride Month to it's fullest potential, we need to heal those wounds which many fathers left by not accepting us at our most vulnerable time. The best way is casting out Father's Day and bringing in All-Inclusive Parents' Day.

Won't you sign?