By Bernadette Hoover, Reporter
Today, the idea of gay parenting is no novelty.
We see examples of this on mainstream media in shows like Modern Family, The Fosters, and Glee. Even if people haven’t had the experience of meeting gay parents or haven’t known any personally, it is safe to say that they have been introduced to the idea by TV shows they’ve seen or stories they’ve read.
Gay parenting in the media has made it easier for people to see gay parents as no different than straight parents.
My parental situation is unique, to say the least. I have two moms and two dads. My moms are together and my dads were together but recently got divorced. I also have a brother and a sister who are twins, and a dog named Oliver.
I am frequently asked the following questions.
How have you coped all these years with being straight in an entirely gay household?
Have you had to deal with bullying?
My all time favorite? Why aren’t you gay like your parents? This question is always followed by several seconds of silence while I allow them to ponder that question and their own ignorance.
After all, gay parents typically do not give their kids “gay lessons.”
I remember one time during freshman year, a student thought she saw me looking upset in the den and walked over to console me. Before I got a chance to confirm that I was all right, she gave me an awkward side hug and asked me if I had gotten into a fight with my mom and dad.
Although there wasn’t anything wrong, I felt the need to explain my family dynamic to her. I watched as her expression went from that of a mother deer tending to her young… all the way to a the expression a mother deer might wear when watching her young get hit by a car.
My comforter excused herself and left me to wonder what I did wrong.
It wasn’t until months later when I was alone in my room thinking about life that I finally realized my error.
I had shared information about my family that she wasn’t ready to accept.
Knowing that I will always have to be careful about how I present my family to the world makes me feel a mixture between sadness and anger.
Sadness, because I now get the feeling that in order to protect myself from getting emotionally hurt by silent prejudice, I should not talk about my family, ever.
Anger, because I just can’t understand why people get physically uncomfortable when they find out I have gay parents. Why is it such a big deal to them? Gay parents love and support their child just like any other loving family would.
Why doesn’t their love count?
I know people who grow up gay in a straight household have many different stories to tell. I know we share a range of views about whether our upbringing was positive or negative.
And I shouldn’t have to experience severe bullying — just because I’m a straight girl in a family with gay parents.
The most difficult thing is having to defend myself, verbally, against good Samaritans in the hallways and elsewhere who just want to “fix me” — because they think my having gay parents is a sin. It’s become a predictable interaction. It begins with someone “forgiving” me for the sins of my parents. It usually ends with someone telling me it isn’t my fault that my parents are gay. It usually ends with their assurance, finally, that God doesn’t hate me — just my family.
My aunt once took my siblings and me to a new church that had just opened up in her neighborhood. Marriage was the topic on the day we went, and the minister was going on and on about how marriage is supposed to take place between a man and a woman.
No exceptions.
I remember my aunt squeezing my hand from behind the pew, reassuring me that my anger was valid.
The service ended, and we kids were escorted to a dimly lit room, covered wall-to-wall with murals depicting Adam and Eve. An angry looking bald man got up from a chair and immediately began referring to a book I had never seen before.
I noticed that I was the only one without a book, so I raised my hand and requested one. The man looked at me and said, “I’ll let you borrow a book, but first you have to tell what you learned during the service today?”
I didn’t know what to say to him.
The entire service was about how my whole family was sin, and about how God had disowned my family. I felt the need to defend myself, so I told the class how I truly felt about the service and why.
Then I sat back down, and patiently waited for the inevitable lecture.
The man sauntered over to me, bent down, and in a low voice explained to me how much God loves me.
According to him, I might have a chance of going to heaven if I changed my ways now while I was still young. I didn’t say anything then, but I told myself that if God didn’t want my parents in heaven, then I didn’t want to go to heaven.
Back then, I wasn’t sure about my spirituality. I didn’t know whether to believe in a God or not, but that day defined my experience of religion by answering the question of whether or not we are all God’s children, like the Bible says.
If God believes that marriage should only be between a man and a woman, then why would God create gay people?
As a joke?
No one seems to know the answer to this question, or at least, no answer that makes sense to me.
Overall, the experience of growing up with two sets of gay parents has been a positive one. My family, just like any other family, has our good times and our bad times, and that is proof to me that there can be unconditional love between gay parents and their children.
It also proves to me that love is always equal — and that love always wins.
