the kid is alright

(I originally wrote this post a couple weeks ago and it has been sitting in my drafts- I recently read the article about the local Michigan doctor choosing not to provide care for an infant born to lesbian parents. Her choice is exactly why I originally wrote the post. I won't sit quietly and watch this happen. I am also so thankful that my husband would never refuse a patient based on their family's personal life choices. The challenge for me is that there are countless patients who belong to families who are far from perfect- who make personal decisions that she is unaware of and yet she still provides care to those children... When you draw a line in the sand about a certain conviction while still providing care to a whole other subgroup of imperfect people your stance feels much more like the pharisees and much less like Jesus. My advice- though no one is asking- if you're providing a public health service- treat people because they're people in need of healthcare... not because you agree with their way of living...)


my story

I was born in September of 1982. My father was a pastor and my mother stayed home with me. My parents didn't argue- we did family things. It was bliss. I was loved.

In 1991 my parents brought me into the living room to share with me that they would be getting a divorce. Tears ran down my little cheeks as I asked, "But why?"

The divorce was painful, as divorces are. I stayed with my dad and my mom lived across the country. I missed her.

In 1993 I noticed my mom had a wedding ring on her finger- my little 11 year old mind was excited about dresses and weddings and all things princess. My mom announced that she was getting married- to a woman. My first reaction- great! I hadn't heard of words like lesbian or gay or heterosexual. That summer my best friend had planned to make the trip across the country to stay with me. When she found out that my mom was a lesbian she decided not to come. I will never forget that feeling: the rejection, the sadness, the confusion. And that was the day I became ashamed of my mother.

My mom is my best friend. I love her beyond words. She is my encourager, my supporter, the one to whom I confide- she is exactly what I would hope in a mother. The early years following the divorce were painful because I missed her so dearly.

If you can remember the 90's then you can remember the fear of AIDS, the rejection of homosexuals, and the secrets that families had to keep. My mom was on the front lines of those coming out to their families.

My mother took me to volunteer in St. Paul, MN to the world AIDS quilt exhibit. I remember watching her cry after her dear friend passed from AIDS. I didn't understand what it all meant- but I knew she was passionate about it- and all her friends were so good to me.

Outside of the gay and lesbian community I swung back into shame. Friends dropped words like faggot and gay and my heart would sink. I remember when my mom gave me a check to pay for summer camp I tried to rip off the other name so my camp leader wouldn't know there were two women on my mom's checking account. After the rejection of my friend I decided I wouldn't tell anyone about my mom- and since she lived across the country it wasn't too hard. However, when I would spend all summer with her my secret required a lot more effort.

It wasn't until the end of 8th grade that I finally decided to tell some friends- and their reactions weren't so painful. Then in high school I moved in with my mom and so if you were my friend- you knew. Some of my friends chose not to stay the night or maybe some kids chose not to be my friend- those things hurt, but fortunately I had many other friends who accepted my family into their homes.

The reason I decided to write this little post is to draw attention to something that some might not think about. My mom is a lesbian- it is who she is- and you may have differing opinions politically or theologically- but she is a person who deserves respect. So when you are talking with your friends or posting articles or arguing about the rights of gays and lesbians- remember that people you are talking about are mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, daughters, and sons- and even grandmothers! And I love my mother so deeply- and so when you say hurtful things about lesbians it cuts into the depth of my heart. When you reject gay and lesbian couples - you're rejecting their children as well. There are numerous occasions where my mother's choice was reject and the consequence was that I was rejected as well.  I can't change the minds of those who said hurtful things when I was a child- but I wish I could teach them to speak respectfully. Although sometimes even respectful speaking followed by rejection - like in the case of the local physician- is a reminder of how far we have to go...

The other reason I wanted to write this blog post is to release the shame that I have carried for so many years. My mother is a lesbian and her name is Adonica and her partner is Kathryn. And I love them. They are good to one another- kind to their friends- respectful of the earth- and they love me, David, and the kids well. And if you live in Portland, you should get to know them- it would be worth the effort. :)

Anyway- I am the kid- one of the products of the 90's- who quietly walked through the storm- and this kid is alright.