By: Rob Watson
Last September, actor Rupert Everett shocked those of us in the gay dad world when he declared to a British paper, ” “I can’t think of anything worse than being brought up by two gay dads.”
Wow. It had only been six years previous when Rupert and I shared several car rides from the bay area to upper lake county. I listened intently as he told me of his early life, his struggles in Hollywood, and those irritating meetings with Madonna.
Ok, ok, ok. So Rupert was not ACTUALLY in the car with me. His voice was. And it was coming out of the car stereo from the book on tape where he was reading his autobiography.
I did not initially have a crush on Rupert. Years ago when I watched him in the movie Another Country, I was barely out about my sexuality. I did not feel attraction for him but rather identified with his character. Both of us though, it seemed, were VERY much enamored of a young Cary Elwes..
I do not really know Rupert Everett. I can say I know of him, and his hanging around in West Hollywood and the gay scene there. But, I don’t know him, not a thing about him, really.
This I do know, and I can say this with absolute certainty. My ignorance of him is NOTHING compared to his ignorance of me. I am well assured that he is quite unaware of my existence, let alone my personality, skills, talents, manner and ability to love.
Yet, with complete and total unawareness of me on the planet, and of many others who do what I do, he feels competent to tell a reporter that there could be “nothing worse” than gay dads.
I do not claim to be perfect in my life and in the things I do… but I can tell you that the one area that I am most focused to be the best I can be, is parenthood. I have been told by many that I am a “great Dad” and I accept those words because I aspire to be that.
Both my sons were born to practicing drug addicts. My eldest son was born six weeks before his due date, weighed four pounds and had heroin in his system. My partner and I needed to alter the nipples on his bottles so that he got exactly 16oz in each feeding so that his brain would develop properly.
My younger son, who we got at a year old, had never had a bath in his life. His mother had only wiped him down with diaper wipes. It was not her fault, she was doing the best she could. She shook so much from the drugs she feared that if she attempted to bathe him in water, she would drown him.
Do I think I am the “worst” alternative? No.
Like anyone else, Mr. Everett has a right to his opinion. I am not sure why that opinion should be given any more merit than if it had come from any other person with anti-gay bias. Because he presumably knows how to make love to a man, he is held up in the public and the media as if he should be an expert on all gay people. He is not.
I confess, when I saw Mr. Everett in My Best Friend’s Wedding, … my heart fluttered. I really fell for his charisma, his wit, his charm. I did want to know him personally.
The reality is, I don’t know him personally, and he does not know me.
After his comments last September, as far as I am concerned, it is just fine for it to stay that way.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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