By: Brandy Black
Recently my daughter asked me if she has a daddy. I have played this conversation out many times in my head. When she was just a few days old I was already worrying about how I could make sure that she didn’t feel inadequate because she has two moms. I even went to hear a panel of teens with gay parents put on by COLAGE so that I could be ready with all the right answers for the tough questions. I got pretty depressed at that panel. Although inspiring to see those sweet, articulate little adults before me telling their stories, it pained me to hear that not the other kids but the parents ostracized some of them. They explained that most kids in school these days don’t really see the issue but that some of the old-school parents aren’t so thrilled. Do they think their children are going to catch gay from a kid who has homosexual parents? I have never really understood why anyone would follow that logic. My parents are straight. My wife’s parents are straight. Most of my gay friends have straight parents. I’m pretty sure my daughter will turn out straight. People are sometimes surprised to hear me say that, as though it’s offensive that I would assume my daughter be anything other than gay. I don’t care what gender my daughter chooses for her partner, as long as she is happy, taken care of, and loved like no other. All I could ever hope for is that she feel true love, love that inspires her and dances her through life. If she is lucky enough to be given that gift, she won’t care what color, creed, gender they are; she will recognize their heart. It’s funny to me that humans can write these beautiful stories like Romeo and Juliet and we all cry because we understand the desire to love, something that no one teaches you –you feel it, it comes from a place so deep that no one can ever take the feeling away from you –yet when it happens in real life, if it is not understood by many, it is treated like an aberration.
So, when I prepared myself for those words “Do I have a daddy?” to come out of my daughter’s mouth, it wasn’t a shame that broke my heart, but more a fear of lack of support. I have spent three long years wrapping my head around what it means to be a gay mom, to know that my child will likely face adversity in her lifetime because of who her parents are to each other. I have learned that my daughter is strong, possibly stronger than I will ever be, and she is proud of her mom and mama and she is loved. When she asks a question like “Where is my daddy?” she just wants to understand. She doesn’t need my baggage. OurIndigochildren are ahead of the game, they will probably teach us a little something about the backwards ways in which we look at things. My daughter is not me and I shouldn’t burden her with my worries that may never come to fruition.
So I said, plain and simple, “You have a mom and a mama.”
and she said
“I don’t have a daddy.”
and I said
“Yep, you’re right.”
That was the end of that conversation. I know one day the conversation will grow, but for now she is content and so am I.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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