In which I am out to my grandmother....

I've been living out for almost five and a half years.

I came out first to my immediate family, including my ex-husband, which led to our divorce. I came out to my close friends.

But I didn't come out to my grandmother.

Part of the reason for this was a request by my father that I shouldn't have honored. But that was only part of it. I was also afraid to come out to her.

My grandmother and I were once very close. When I was in high school and through part of college, I lived with my dad and my brother; my mom had primary custody of my other brother and my sister. It was a hard period of my life, and I wouldn't have gotten through it without my grandmother's love and support. She was an oasis in the windswept desert of my life. I respect her and her role in my life. I was afraid that if I came out to her, the one person whose opinion I respected more than just about anything in my life would turn her back on me. That I would lose her.

So I didn't tell her.

I didn't see her often when I was living in the same state, and then I moved four states away back to Florida and our relationship faded somewhat. We both kept in touch, but it wasn't like it was before.

And I didn't tell her.

When I started dating Bo, my relationship with my dad became very strained. As that relationship faded, it was easy to not tell Grammy because I didn't see her and didn't really talk to her. By this time, everyone else in the family knew, so I assumed she did, too. And it just was what it was.

My grandmother recently went through cancer. It was bad for a while. She's finished her treatments and is doing better now. I called her before her last surgery, and we reconnected a bit. I've talked to her a couple of times since then, and she's sounded better each time.

The last time I spoke with her, she told me she wanted me to bring the kids to visit. She's only seen them once since I moved back to Florida. And though it may sound a bit dark, I don't know how much longer she'll be around. She needs to see her great-grandchildren. At least once more. And I can't take that trip without my wife. I won't pretend that I'm not remarried or that the kids don't have two moms. I have to live authentically for myself, for my kids, for my wife.

So I wrote my grandmother a letter and came out to her. I told her that I'm married and that I'm happy.

And I waited.

I was sure that if I got any response at all, it would be a heartbreaking letter disowning me, damning me to hell. I was sure I'd lose her.

I didn't.

She sent me a birthday note that said:

You are still my granddaughter and I still love you. I have to trust that you are happy. Don't leave God out of your life.

That in itself was enough for me. She didn't hate me. She didn't disown me. She accepts that, no matter what she thinks or feels about homosexuality, I am happy.

But was was so much more poignant for me was that the envelope was addressed to my married name.

October 2015
Photo by A. Harris Photography

She made the conscious choice to write the married last name of her lesbian granddaughter on the envelope.

She didn't have to. She could have written my previously-married name or my maiden name or have left a last name off entirely. But she didn't. She wrote my name.

She validated my wife's role in my life and validated a marriage she may not believe should even be legal.

I was so afraid of how she would react when I came out to her. And I know that it's likely she isn't a-ok about it. I know it's likely she may never be "okay" about it. It may always be a source of tension between us.

But she accepts it.

And that's enough for me.

Check your privilege. Then use it.

Last week I had the privilege of speaking with a friend of mine about politics for her podcast on SpareMin.* Before our talk, Abi told me she didn't really have an agenda for the conversation. She was really leaving it open to anything having to do with politics or my post-election life.

Image source

That's a really broad topic.

As the conversation progressed, we talked about how to make a difference from where you are and what it means to be an ally. And that's what I want to address here today.

There are people I know who claim to be allies in this fight. They share memes on Facebook and make rainbow profile pictures and talk about how they're advocates for LGBTQ rights and want to fight for people like me, for families like mine.

But so much of the time, these people are allies because they want people to see them being allies. They want people to know they're allies. It becomes much less about advocacy and ally-ship, and much more about the appearance of advocacy and ally-ship.

There are people who come from a place of privilege (white cishet folks, for example) who are protesting and talking about protests the way tourists talk about cities. They want others to see them as allies and they want the experience of being known as allies.

That's not what people need.

As a lesbian, I am a minority, and under the Trump administration, my rights are under threat. My safety is under threat. While I once walked down the street with my wife and children worried that I might get side eye, now I fear that someone will physically put their hands on my wife or on me. Or even worse, on the kids. There have been moments since the election that I literally fear for my long-term safety in this country. Because the election of Donald Trump normalized and legitimized hatred and bigotry in this country.

And there are people I know who claim that they understand that fear when they don't. There are people I know who say they know how I feel. That they have experienced the same kind of hatred I have experienced. That they are in fear, as well.

But they aren't.

How can they be?

The vast majority of cishet folks have no idea what it's like to be hated because of who they are and who they love. They have no idea what it's like to be questioned when they say they are attracted to someone. To be asked, "Are you sure?" or "How do you know?" or to be told that your soul will burn for all of eternity because of your genetics. By people who are supposed to love you.

But everything happening in this country lately is changing people, and making them think that because they disagree with this or that policy, they're the same as the people whose lives are in danger because of those policies.

They're tourists. Not allies.

Here's the thing. Unless you actually experience the issue addressed, you can't claim to know what it's like.

You may have similar (but different) experiences. For example, I have experienced hatred because I am gay. This is similar (but very different) from the experiences of people of color who experience hatred because of their ethnicities or skin colors. But because I am white, I cannot know what it means to be a person of color in this country and in this social climate. I can empathize. I can be angry and react. But I can't know.

That's why it is so important for allies to understand how to be allies.

As a white woman, the most important thing I can do to be an ally for others is to share their stories. I have privilege as a white woman that others do not have. And instead of trying to stand on my sexuality as a way to say "I know how you feel," it's so much more important for me to use my privilege to extend their voices. To give them a voice where they do not have one. To share their stories so they are heard.

So often, when I want to be an ally on Facebook or Twitter, the best and most important thing I can do is share articles and tweets and status updates from people who are actually experiencing the issue.

If I want to bring attention to the Black Lives Matter movement, how can I possible speak about race in this country with any kind of credibility or authority? But what I can do is to amplify the voices of people who do have authority and credibility. I can use my privilege as a white woman to give voice to women, men, and children who are overlooked and ignored.

People listen to me because I'm white. So why wouldn't I use that privilege for good?

The same is true for people who want to be LGBTQ allies.

It's not about rainbows on Facebook or sharing memes or going to parades and throwing glitter. Because all that is show. It doesn't change anything in this country, and it doesn't mean you understand what it means to be gay in today's society.

You can't pretend you don't have privilege. So don't. Instead, use it for good. Lift up the voices of others with your volume. Amplify their voices so theirs stories can be heard.

Use the power you are granted because of who you are to share what others need to get the rights they deserve.

Check your privilege.

Then use it.

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*For more important conversations on SpareMin, check out Abi's profile.

Should we be scared?

One of the things that has been concerning to me since the election (really, since the campaign, but before Election Day, there was still hope....) is that I am a gay woman married to a gay woman and we have two children.*

And I live in a very red area of the nation.

Image source

Immediately following the election, there were so, so, so many reports of violence against so many people following the election, and the queer community is among those who have been targeted. Despite Trump's efforts to bridge the gap between his campaign and the queer community with a half-hearted wave of a rainbow flag on a stage, he's not exactly a friend to those who identify as anything other than cis and straight (and white and male, but that's for another post).

And people's overt reactions to the queer community following the election are a pretty damning statement of what it means to live in "Trump's America."

Because here's the thing. It doesn't matter whether Trump does what he said he would do during his campaign (though evidence is mounting that he will). Because the fact that he built his campaign on the promises he did means that he collected a gaggle of like-minded followers who are reveling in the fact that "they won" and are strutting their pride on the streets all over this country.

No matter what happens in the Oval Office or in Congress or in the Supreme Court, the fact remains that there are millions of people who voted for this man because of his campaign. They wanted him to win.

So what does that mean for my family? For me?

I am out. I have been for about five years. My wife is out. I don't shy away from the word "gay" around our kids and we explain that it doesn't matter if you love someone who identifies as male or female or who is androgynous (or any other variation of gender).

But there are people around us who are getting more bold about disagreeing with a "lifestyle" like mine. Or the fact that there are immigrants who live in this country. Or that not everyone is a Christian. Vocally. About taking action (even violently) to protest what they believe to be wrong.

And people are getting hurt.

And the government is not stepping in as it should. In fact, quite the opposite in some cases, like in Ohio.

That makes me afraid. The people who are supposed to be protecting Americans and American residents are taking legislative action to instead discriminate against Americans and, in fact, take actions leading to grave harm.

Did you know that the Affordable Care Act is in the process of being repealed? (My wife and I currently have health insurance through the marketplace, and we both have pre-existing conditions. She is a cancer survivor, and I have fibromyalgia.)

With everything going on in this country in the last couple of months, with all of the hirings and firings, with all of the legislative changes and bold violent acts of hate, I can't help but worry for the safety of my family and myself.

We are on the outside in "Trump's America." We don't fit into the narrow mold he has created for what America looks like.

And I shudder to think what is going to happen in the future as he, his administration, and the people who voted for him begin working toward creating that America.

Trump talked about "draining the swamp."

But what he didn't tell you was that before he did, he'd be populating it with alligators.

So all I can do is protect my family. And I will fight every day from where I am (this blog, social media, among my family and friends) to let anyone and everyone know that

this is not okay.

Trump's words and actions are not okay. The election was not okay. The actions of the American people under Trump's name are not okay. And it is my right and duty as an American citizen to fight for my rights.

I may be scared. But I will never stop.




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*Puck and Tink are from my first marriage (to a man), but Bo and I raise the kids when we have timesharing (Florida's term for visitation) with them, and she is their mom as much as I am.

I'm out for those who can't be

I haven't been blogging lately (obviously). I haven't been doing much of anything.

The end of September and beginning of October was difficult for me. Because depression lies. Even though I had an editorial calendar to help prompt me to blog when I didn't want to, I just couldn't get myself in front of the computer. Because depression lies.

But I'm coming out of a dark personal storm, which coincides with coming out on the other side of Hurricane Matthew* and on National Coming Out Day.

Oh, yeah. And we're moving at the end of the month. So that's fun.

I try to write about National Coming Out Day each year for a lot of reasons. Yes, I've been out for a while, but it's important for me to keeping coming out because there are a lot of people who can't. They might lose their jobs. Or their homes. Or their lives.

This blog is a safe space.

Yes, our nation has marriage equality. Yes, there have been improvements in anti-discrimination and efforts to improve equality for queer** folks.

But it is still dangerous to be queer in a lot of places. And even in places you'd think it would be safe, like Orlando, being queer can be dangerous.

It doesn't surprise me that there are people who are fearful of being out. Truly.

Because they can't, I will. I will be out and an advocate. I will be vocal about fighting for equality and protection for others (including myself). I will give voice to the voiceless and let them know that there are people fighting their corner, even when they can't.

I'm an out lesbian.

Happy National Coming Out Day.




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*We live in central Florida, so we did get hit with some of the weather; we were safe and didn't have any damage.
**My use of the term "queer" is intended to encompass all LGBTQIA orientations.

On Father's Day

I used to value Father's Day.

I was pretty close with my dad, especially after I moved back to Illinois from Florida, and during the divorce. We spoke on the phone a few times a week, and I prided myself on showing my appreciation to him every year in June. One of the last Father's Days I spent with my dad, I surprised him with a round of golf for the two of us and my younger brother. I like golf, so it was a good morning.

When I moved back to Florida, things changed. Well... I should be more specific. I started dating Bo, and things changed. I told him the nature of our relationship was up to him, and now we haven't spoken in I don't know how long. My father has clearly made a choice based on his religious beliefs about homosexuality.

The good news is that there are aspects in which Father's Day still has value to me.

I have an amazing father-in-law.

My father-in-law looking dapper on our wedding day
October 2015

He embraces me as a daughter (no qualifiers). In fact, it was less than 12 hours after I met Bo that he friended me on Facebook, and there was no going back after that. He loves me and I love him, and when I think of Father's Day, he is the one who comes to mind.

My father-in-law is a good man. He loves his family and would do whatever he could for any of them. There are no strings attached to his love. He has never once told me, "I love you, but I don't agree with your lifestyle." He just loves me for who I am.

I have lost my father by blood by his own choice, which has caused me to also lose the rest of my family on that side. But I have gained so much more in a family by choice.

I think I came out ahead in that.

If I had been a son....

When I came out to my dad (about three years ago), one of the things he said to me was that he would not have taken the news as well if it had come from one of my brothers.

I didn't say anything at the time, but since then I think about that statement from time to time.

My dad was raised in a highly patriarchal, conservative Christian family. And when I came out to him, he was raising his stepdaughters in the same environment. So, in giving him the benefit of the doubt, I can try and justify to myself that what he meant by that comment had to do with pride of sons and carrying on the family name and all that kind of thing.

But I know it's not true.

What really emerged in that comment from my father was a testament to this dramatic disparity in the perceptions of same-sex relationships in our society, most notably brought on by the gross glamorized sexualization of lesbians thanks to the porn industry.

Society has made lesbians sexy. Guys want to watch lesbians or "turn them" or join in or whatever, making lesbianism more acceptable than male homosexuality.

It was more okay for my dad that I cam out versus either of my brothers because lesbians are hot and gay guys are gross.

Straight, white, cis male privilege at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.

What it comes down to is that, in our society, straight cis males have determined the "norm" for what is sexually acceptable. Since these men are sexually aroused by women (and more so by women with other women), lesbians are hot. But because these men are not only not aroused but often disgusted by gay men, the result is that homosexual males are not acceptable in society. Gay guys are gross, according to the heteronormative perspective.

So in that one comment, which my dad really intended as a twisted way of showing his support for me coming out to him (read: "I'm not disowning you. But things would be different if you were a boy"), the whole of society was encapsulated.

I was more acceptable because I am a woman. Well, because I am a sexualized object.

It's infuriating, really, to know that the only basis for this acceptance is the sexualization of lesbians for the gratification of straight men. It has nothing to do with who I am as a lesbian, or the desire for equality in society. Instead, it's just that society says lesbians are hot. I, as a sexual object, am acceptable.

But the moment you focus on the humanity of lesbians, we're back to it being sinful and unacceptable. And since men can't objectify other men's bodies the way they do women's bodies, gay men are unacceptable under all circumstances.

And, unfortunately, as long as we live in a society in which women are continually sexualized and objectified, this won't change. It's not about the people who happen to be lesbians, it's about the bodies and what they do with other (female) bodies in their intimate relationships.

Because if I had been a son, I probably would have been disowned in that first conversation.

My story is true for me

Source

I have been called a liar.

I have shared my coming out story to people, and been told it can't possibly be true. That I must be leaving something out or skewing it to make myself look better.Or that I knew all along and was a liar because I married Monty anyway.

But whatever anyone says, my story is true for me.

And it is that truth that I tell.

Now, I'm not saying "my story is true for me" in a way that says I've deluded myself into thinking that the story I tell is true even though it's not. What I mean is that regardless of what people think, assumptions they make, or how they react to what I tell them, my story is true. And for me, that's enough. My story is true for me.

When I made the decision to come out and divorce Monty, there were people who claimed that I knew all along that I am gay. There were people who said I'd married Monty just to get kids, or to get money from him, or whatever else they thought about me. That I'd planned what happened for a long time before I made it happen. But that's not true.

This came up again recently when I was participating in a conversation on Facebook. I shared my story and a stranger decided, based on the limited story I told in the conversation thread, that I was a liar. This person didn't believe that I really had no idea that I was gay until I realized it and came out.

But I didn't.

Here's the thing. My dad is a Baptist. A fundamental independent Baptist. So, growing up, being gay just wasn't really an option. My mom was always more open-minded and progressive, but we never talked about it. And, being raised Baptist, the expectation was that I would grow up, marry a good, Baptist man, and have babies. That was it. It never occurred to me that I might be gay because it never occurred to anyone in my life that there was anything other than being straight for Christians.

Looking back, I can see now that I have always been a lesbian. There were things in my life that I now see as indications of my sexual orientation that I didn't recognize at the time. Some of the things were small. For example, I didn't have a favorite male actor; when friends would talk about male actors they thought were attractive, I'd let others answer before me and pick a name they said. But in those moments, I didn't see those signs for what they were.

Now, of course, I look back and admonish myself for my blindness. How could I have not known? But I didn't.

Eventually, my life changed and was not so restrictive. And it was in this context that the edges of my mind crept toward the center, and I realized that the reason I always felt "wrong" was because I was a lesbian who'd just had a second child with a man I was married to.

That was a hard conversation.

I can't imagine how Monty felt at the time. I know how he reacted, but that was just the inadequate expression of his feelings. Things were very bad between us for quite a while when I came out and told him I wanted a divorce.

Things are better now. We're friends. He even went to my wedding!

No matter how many times I tell this story and am judged for elements that are perceived to be invented, my story is true. This is really and truly how it happened. No matter what anyone else says, this is and always will be the truth. And regardless of what they say, my story is true for me.

The case for "they" as a singular pronoun

Source

Throughout my education, "they" was always a plural pronoun. My literature teacher seemed to relish pointing out subject-verb agreement in our homework and essays. In fact, she corrected us verbally, as well, over the course of class discussion.

Language was binary.

But life is not.

On Monday, I read an outstanding post from Casey over at Life with Roozle about coming out as genderqueer. She says:

I'm taking up space in this in between, in this neither and both and everything I've always been and everything I want to be. Even though it's terrifying. Even though it changes nothing. Even though it changes everything. That's how language works. It's just language. 

Language is everything. Language defines us even when we don't want it to.

Yes, Casey. Yes, it does. I can't imagine how hard it was for them to write that post, but I'm so, so glad they did.

The problem with language (right now) is that it is molded by people who can sometimes be closed-minded and traditional. They have a very specific perspective of what the world is, and they use language to perpetuate it. When that worldview is binary (particularly in gender constructs), language becomes binary, as well.

He.

She.

And they is relegated to a plural pronoun.

But humanity changes and evolves and develops. Language, by its very nature as an expression of humanity, must change, as well. If society is no longer strictly binary, why is language?

I wholeheartedly support the use of "they" as a gender-neutral singular pronoun. Casey, and others, already prefer they/them/their over gender-specific pronouns. So it makes sense that society accepts this reclamation of language to fit the needs of human expression.

I know that Puck and Tink will likely learn in school that "they" is a plural pronoun and should be used as such. Okay. But when they get home and tell me that, I will let them know that in our non-binary society, some people prefer to be referred to as "they" because not everyone identifies as strictly male or strictly female.

There are shades of purple in our pink-and-blue humanness.



What are your thoughts on "they" as a gender-neutral singular pronoun? Why?

Still here. Still queer. Getting used to it.

Source

Today is National Coming Out Day. And after almost four years, I'm still coming out.

Though now it's in much more subtle ways, and far less vocal on my part. It's a look of surprise or a double-take from a passing stranger when I'm out in public and take my wife's hand.

It's the I'm-being-polite "Oh. Okay." from friends I rarely talk to when they finally get in touch and hear that I'm in a relationship with a woman.

It's the reminders that happen occasionally from my wife that when people stare, it is she that draws the attention because she doesn't fit what so many people in society think women should be, and if she weren't at my side, people would assume I'm straight.

It used to bother me. As a newly-out lesbian, I wanted to be rid of the straight part of my old life. I am a lesbian, and I wanted people to know it. So I bought some shirts from HRC, cut my hair in a pixie cut, and changed my Facebook profile picture to one of me at a drag show with friends.

Since then, I've let my hair grow back out to chin-length. I still have a shirt from HRC that I wear sometimes. And my profile picture is a beautiful shot from my wedding with Bo. (I wore a dress.) So, if I'm not with my wife, most people probably assume I'm straight.

But it doesn't bother me anymore. I don't care what people I don't know think of me. The people I care about know who I really am, and that's good enough for me. My wife knows who I am, and that's all I need. The munchkins know they have two moms, and they're happy in their life with us.

I think there will eventually be a day in society in which it truly doesn't matter if you're gay, straight, queer, trans, or anything else. You will just be you. Kids won't need to come out to their parents; they'll just bring home someone for their parents to meet.

But until then, I'll keep coming out, and keep not caring that it surprises people.

On marriage licenses and equality

Bo and I picked up our marriage license this morning in preparation for our wedding in about three weeks.

We didn't have any problems getting the license, and were congratulated by two staff members. In fact, the woman who helped us was even apologetic that the license says "groom," and said we could cross it out if we wanted to.*

And I couldn't help but thinking that I'm glad we don't live in Kentucky, where Kim Davis made the decision that her personal beliefs gave her justification to willfully defy a ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court and refuse to issue marriage licenses in order to prevent from "participating" in the sin that is same-sex marriage.

I haven't blogged about Kim Davis. I've shared articles on Facebook here and there, and talked about it quite a bit with Bo. But I've been sort of avoiding talking about it here until more news came out. I thought it would be settled by now and I'd be able to write about it with a better understanding of the overall situation.

In case you don't know what's been going on, here are the highlights:

• Kim Davis, a circuit clerk in Rowan County, Kentucky, is a born-again Christian (she was saved four years ago) in a conservative denomination that condemns homosexuality and same-sex marriage.
• Following the ruling by the Supreme Court, Davis made the decision to not issue marriage licenses because her name is on the application (as the clerk), and she believes that her name on the licenses makes her party to gay marriage and culpable in these people's sins.
• Despite Davis's efforts to legally allow this ban through her claim that issuing the licenses discriminates against her religious practices, all of her appeals failed, leading SCOTUS to issue a one-line ruling upholding the previous ruling that said she must issue licenses.
• When she continued to refuse, including instructing her deputy clerks that they were also not permitted to issue licenses, she was held in contempt of court. The judge told her that she would not be jailed if she would allow the deputy clerks to issue licenses in her stead, which she refused.
• She has been jailed for contempt of court. The judge told the deputy clerks that they could either issue licenses or join her in jail. Five of the six (the one hold-out being her son) agreed to issue licenses.
• Kim Davis is still in jail, and has attempted to file a new appeal.

Image source

There are a lot of factors in this case. On one hand, Kim Davis has a sincerely held belief that by issuing marriage licenses to queer couples, she is not only condoning the sin/behavior, but is equal part in it because her name is on the form. She is signing off on the marriage. I can see how she interprets that as her acceptance of same-sex marriage as an institution in the United States. Her signature makes the union legal in the county, so her signature says, "Yes, these two individuals are married."

That's one of the things she has a problem with. If her name/signature wasn't on the form, I believe she would still have refused to issue licenses, but that's a separate issue.

However, she's overreaching quite a bit. Not only did she take it too far by refusing to allow the deputy clerks to issue licenses, thereby putting their jobs in jeopardy (not to mention risking jail time), but she is also taking it too far by claiming that issuing licenses to same-sex couples (which, let's be honest, is the main component of her position as an elected official) constitutes religious discrimination.

I fail to see how issuing licenses with your name on them discriminates against you as a religious individual. So did the court.

Because, when you really look at the situation, you have to remember that the founding fathers established a concept called "separation of church and state," for this very reason. Allowing government officials, like county clerks, to make decisions and enact policies based on their individual religious beliefs and practices is dangerously close to sanctioning a state church. (Kind of the whole reason people left England to begin with, yanno?)

When she goes to work, she is no longer a private citizen. She is an elected official. Her religious beliefs don't matter because she wasn't elected and is not employed by the church or even by Christians. She is beholden to the law, when she took an oath** as an elected official, she swore to uphold the law and the Constitution, which now includes marriage equality in the nation. She can't just not follow certain laws because she doesn't like them or agree with them. Our nation doesn't work that way.

And, just as importantly, legalities of her duties aside, her rights only extend as far as someone else's. When she refused to issue marriage licenses, she violated the rights of the couples who were refused. And she can't do that, either.

One of the many problems with this situation is that, as an elected official, she can't just be fired. There's a whole process to remove her from office through impeachment. But she is finally being held accountable for her failure to do her job. And I hope that Rowan County (and Kentucky) continue to follow through with that.

Of course, the conservatives are having a field day now that she's in jail. She's become a martyr for the cause, with her husband even comparing her to the Biblical figures of Silas and Paul who were imprisoned for their adherence to their beliefs.

No. No.

She's not a martyr. She's not a conservative Christian hero. She's a small-minded woman who let her personal feelings and beliefs justify breaking hte law and is now being called to account for it.

Mark 12:17, y'all.

She may be a Christian, and may believe that she must ultimately answer to her god. But even Jesus recognized and accepted that there are laws and expectations set up on earth that Christians must adhere to. You can't claim god as a justification for breaking the law and defying a court ruling.

She's learning that the hard way. It's too bad that most of her fans won't really get the lesson, anyway.




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*Bo said she doesn't care that it says groom. All she cares about is that it's legal for us to get married.

**The teachings of her denomination encourages members not to take oaths for this very reason, actually. When the oath conflicts with religious beliefs, it causes this kind of dilemma.

Why I'm going to be Mrs. Bo

When a man and woman get married, the assumption is that the wife will take her husband's last name. There are variations, of course. Some women keep their maiden names for various reasons (professional, children from a previous relationship) or the couple will hyphenate. However, in today's society, it is still a very rare thing for the husband to take the wife's name.

Non-hetero marriages are different. When two women or two men get married, both last names are up for grabs. They may hyphenate or keep their respective names (especially if they are not out at work, for example). However, the conversation has to happen in order for the couple to decide what they are going to do.

Bo and I had a quick conversation about it and discovered we were both on the same page. I am taking her last name. And there are several reasons for it.

When Monty and I divorced, I kept my married name. The kids were young, and it made more sense to me at the time to have the same last name they do. In addition, I didn't want to have my father's last name, and moving to something different would have been unnecessarily complicated. So I kept my married name.

Because of that, when Bo and I got engaged our choices were for both of us to keep our respective names, for her to take the last name of my ex-husband, or for me to take her last name. Neither of us wanted to hyphenate, partly because of the length of her last name.

I didn't want to keep our respective last names. One of the joys of being able to legally get married in the U.S. is to legally pronounce that relationship to the world, including with a name change. I can legally take the name of my wife as an outward sign of our love and devotion. Why wouldn't I do that?

So that left us with one of us taking the other's last name. Bo wasn't comfortable taking my last name because it's not my maiden name. (For some reason, she doesn't want to share my ex-husband's last name. Who would have guessed....) I agreed with her, and realized that I didn't really want it, either.

Yes, it's the kids' last name, but the kids are comfortable in the idea that not everyone in their family has the same last name they do. They understand that family is as much love and desire as it is name and blood. So it doesn't bother me at all anymore to have a different last name than theirs.

In addition, my current last name is representative of something that isn't me anymore. It's from a very different time in my life, It's appropriate that my new last name will be much more who I am.

I'll have to practice signing the new name.

It is so ordered.

So, this morning...

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...because...

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Though it may have been kicking and screaming, the United States has been brought to the right side of history. Here's what transpired between yesterday and today:

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It looks so much prettier now, don't you think? And more like the United States of America.

Here is the decision for those who would like to read it. According to the decision:

No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization's oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right. 

The judgement of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit is reversed. 

It is so ordered.

Good job, SCOTUS.

My father chose to stand against homosexuality rather than loving his daughter unconditionally.

This post was supposed to go up yesterday. But it's a hard post to write, so I finished it yesterday and posted it today.

About a year ago, I had a conversation with my dad about my sexuality. He knew I was gay, but was choosing to sort of ignore it since I wasn't dating anyone. When I started dating Bo, I talked to him about it, reminding him that this is a fundamental part of who I am. That he can't ignore it because I'm in a relationship.

I told him that I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so I would let him decide how to proceed with our father-daughter relationship. He told me he didn't want to lose me or the munchkins, but kept reaffirming his belief that "Biblically, it's wrong."

And I backed off.

Over the past year, we haven't really talked. He called on my birthday (though we didn't really chat) and each of the munchkins' birthdays. I texted him a couple of times and got minimal responses. Overall, it was clear to me that he had made his decision.

He decided that it was more important for him to stand against homosexuality according to his church's interpretation of the Bible than to love his daughter unconditionally.

I wasn't surprised, but it was still hard.

On his birthday, which was toward the end of February, I sent him a text that said, simply, "Happy Birthday." He thanked me and asked how work was going.* I didn't respond for lots of reasons. Mostly because it irritated me greatly that the one question he asked had no emotional link. He didn't ask how I am, how his grandchildren are, how life is going, or anything like that. He asked how work is going. So I didn't respond.

On Sunday, I got another text from him saying "Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit."

For those who don't know, this expression is a family tradition on the first of every month. You tell people "Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit," and if they say it back, it means you won't have an argument with that person for that month. It's always been a fun little family thing we do, trying to be the first to say it to others.

I didn't respond to this text, either.

I believe in my heart that the only reason he texted me was because I sent him the birthday text. He assumed that because I texted him on his birthday, he can pretend that everything is fine between us, and that we can go back to the way things were before.

We can't.

I know that my dad will not change his opinion of me. He believes I've chosen this lifestyle and that it's wrong. He believes that my choice to be gay is similar to his other kids choosing to live with their boy/girlfriends out of wedlock. He has shown over the past year that he is not willing to make any effort to maintain contact or have a real relationship with me and the munchkins.

As a result, I have decided that it's finally time to break away from the uncertainty of my relationship with my father, and to walk away.

This decision is about me, not him.

For too long, I've kept hoping that he'd come around or change his mind or be different, and that we could have a real relationship. And that he could have a real relationship with the munchkins.

But I know he won't. He believes what he believes, and nothing is going to change that.

And I don't want that kind of person in my life or around my kids.

I don't want them to have a relationship with a man who believes their mom is going to hell because of something beyond her control. Because of his narrow-minded beliefs. Because it's easier for him to believe that than to think for himself and stand for love and equality and justice and peace.

He would rather stand against homosexuality than love me unconditionally.

That's his decision. But it's not okay with me.

So in the next few weeks I will be taking the time to have a long conversation with him about it, and to finally, and with finality, break ties with him in order to move on with my life in a healthy, happy way.

He is my father, and I love him as my father, but I can't continue to have someone in my life who isn't willing to make any kind of effort to be in my life, even for the sake of the munchkins.

It's a hard decision, and it will be hard for a long time. But I believe it is the best decision, and it's been made.






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*I could write an entire post about how, for my father, this was not him "reaching out," but simply his way of being able to convince himself that he did try to talk to me. But that would be better for another time.

Passing as straight

December 2014

Earlier in my relationship with Bo, we went to get breakfast at a cute little diner one Sunday. It was next to a non-denominational Christian church, and it was clear from the atmosphere that it was a regular stop for many of the church folks. That being said, there was no indication that the restaurant should have been considered a "Christian" restaurant. Throughout our meal, we made an important discovery.

Our waitress was not actually waiting on us.

It started out as a normal meal, for the most part.* She took our order, not making eye contact with either of us. She seemed rushed and as though she was flustered. We decided at the time that it was probably due to the large number of customers that were there at the time, and she seemed to be one of only a couple of servers in the restaurant that morning. She was just busy, right?

However, as the meal progressed, we noticed other things. It took a long time to get our meal. Despite the fact that she was buzzing around to other tables checking on customers, she never once checked on us to see if we needed anything (including refills on our drinks). When we were finished eating, the manager cleared our table and dealt with our check. We could clearly see that the waitress was still on her shift, but the manager had taken over our table by that point.

It was weird.

Afterward, Bo and I discussed it, and we came to the uneasy conclusion that the waitress was not comfortable waiting on us because of our relationship.

Yes, we were in a relationship, but she had no way of knowing that. We weren't holding hands or making out over our breakfasts. We could have just as easily been two friends or cousins or sisters who went out to breakfast together.

She assumed our relationship, then changed her behavior toward us based on that assumption.

During the course of the discussion about it, Bo indicated that it was probably an assumption that came from Bo's appearance more than the dynamic of the two of us together. Bo has short hair and wears clothes that some consider masculine. She told me that when people give us sideways glances, trying to determine if we're together, it's most likely that they're looking at her.

She said, "You pass as straight."

I suppose she's right. I typically keep my hair a bit longer (chin length, at least), and wear clothing that is generally identifiable as feminine. I'm not a "girly girl," but definitely on the feminine side of the spectrum.**

I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I suppose it's beneficial to be able to "pass" as straight in general society. I don't get stares when I'm in public, and there's little awkwardness from people who are uncomfortable around the queer community.

On the other hand, I am not ashamed of who I am, so I don't feel the need to hide any part of that. There is part of me that wants people to look at me and identify me as a lesbian because that's how I identify myself. I don't try to hide that part of me because I feel no need to.

Of course, in an ideal world, it wouldn't matter. People would mind their own business instead of judging others based on who they love and with whom they share their beds.

I mean, if people spent half as much time advocating for the marginalized in society as they do shaking their fists at The Gays, our society would be a whole helluva lot better. But that's a post for another day.






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*In looking at the experience in retrospect, it's clear now that there were more indications of the waitress's feelings about us than we noticed at the time. As this post is retrospective, it will address those indications.

**Because gender is a spectrum, not binary. That's just how it works.

Love wins!

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On January 6, 2015, it became legal for same-sex couples to marry in the state of Florida. (Hooray!) There have still been some complications, but it is legal, and Orlando welcomes marriage equality.

This is wonderful news. Florida is finally on the right side of history,

On January 11, 2015, Bo asked me to marry her, and I said yes.

We love each other fiercely, and as cheesy as it sounds, I truly believe that she is my other half. I can't imagine sharing my life with anyone else the way I have shared it with her.

So we're going to get married.

We haven't set a date yet, but we have some ideas of what we'd like to do for our wedding, as well as when. Right now we're just in the beginning-est planning stages, thinking about the wedding in more abstract terms, especially because of some significant career changes that are happening later this year (more on that in the next couple of days).

In the meantime, we're enjoying the excitement and anticipation of this new adventure in our life together, and sending lots of thank you messages to friends and family.

It's going to be a good year.

On Leelah Alcorn

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There's a very sad story circulating this week about the death of transgender teen Leelah Alcorn.

Leelah, who was born male, was struck by a tractor-trailer on Interstate 71 in Ohio. Days later, a suicide note appeared on Leelah's Tumblr, which explained her desire to transition, the lack of support, and her desperation because of the situation, which led to her decision to commit suicide.

There has been a lot of discussion about this story already. It may be easy to place blame on Leelah's parents for their lack of support, particularly when it led to such a tragic end. And while I most certainly don't condone that kind of lack of support, neither can I judge them for doing what they thought was best at the time. That's what I do as a parent.

Besides, there is a bigger issue at work here (well, two issues that I want to discuss) than whether or not Leelah's parents should have behaved differently.

The first and most important thing is that we have to do better. There are teens and adults all over this country that die because of who they are. Some take their own lives, like Leelah, because of how others react to them. Others, like Matthew Shephard, are killed because of other people's perceptions of who they are.

There are people dying every day because of small-minded, judgmental people who won't see past their own opinions to offer the support that's needed in these situations.

And we have to do better. We can't let society continue to kill people for being who they are. For wanting to live authentically.

The other issue I want to discuss is the media coverage of Leelah's death.

I am so glad that Leelah's story is being told, and that it's starting and continuing important conversations about what it means to be queer* in today's society. But how many other teenagers and adults have similar stories that haven't been told? How many families bury their trans children using their birth gender and name instead of how they identified? How many families turn their backs when people come out, leaving family members homeless and alone? How many people just like Leelah have no voice in our society?

We have to do better.

With Puck and Tink, I frequently remind them that I just want them to be happy, and to be the people they are on the inside as well as on the outside. I want them to be comfortable in how they identify, and will always do whatever I can to help them live authentically every day.

Because, as a society, we have to do better. As individuals, we have to do better. As parents and siblings and children and friends, we have to do better.

And it has to start right this minute before we lose another precious life.






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*I have chosen to use the word queer in this post as an inclusive term in regards to the LGBTQ community.

I clicked "unfriend"

I unfriended someone on Facebook this week.

It is the spouse of a friend. I know this person, but not very well, and since I live in another state, our interactions are limited to Facebook.

This person has very different religious, political, and social views than I do. In and of itself, that's not a problem. I don't read the links and status updates that stand against what I believe in. I'm capable of doing that on Facebook.

But then, this person saw a link that I posted about a prominent businessman who came out as gay recently. The person shared the link from my Facebook wall, adding a status that something to the effect that this businessman's coming out is purely a publicity stunt for the company.

I can't control how this person feels about this businessman. Or about homosexuality. I don't care what this person says on Facebook. But I do care that this person took something from my wall, which, knowing me, was meant as a positive thing, then used it to spread a message of paranoid intolerance. And because it was shared from my wall, my name is now linked to that post.

That's what made me angry about this incident. Say what you want on your wall. That's fine. But don't get me involved by linking my name to yours when it comes to those opinions.

So I unfriended this person. We never speak, and I don't read this person's Facebook wall as it is, so for me, it's not that big of a leap. But it's the meaning behind the action that led me to do it.

Some time ago, I made the decision that I would not attend my father's church anymore in the event that I visited the family. My logic is that by attending services--and participating--I am accepting what it taught, and condoning the behavior that goes on within that denomination. And I won't do that.

I feel the same way about this incident. By ignoring the fact that this person co-opted a post I intended to be celebratory in this way, I feel complicit in what was said about the businessperson. That it's okay that this person said that. And it's not okay to me.

I have learned that in order for me to live authentically, it's important for me to not surround myself with people who are toxic to me. That's not to say that I don't have people in my life who disagree with me or what I believe and stand for. I don't mean it like that at all. But there are people I know, and my relationship with them goes beyond disagreement and into toxicity. It could be that these people are angry about their beliefs, or that what they believe is damaging to me in some way, or that my relationship with them is filled with too much drama to be productive. Regardless of why, these people are not good for me, and just as I strive to make healthy food choices to take care of myself and exercise to take care of myself, it's important for me to take care of my mental and emotional (and spiritual) health by allowing myself to let go of toxic people instead of clinging to them out of some misguided sense of obligation.

So I unfriended this person.

I don't know whether or not there will be fallout from this with my friend (unfriended person's spouse). But I also know that this spouse believes the same things and has the same mentality as the person I unfriended, so maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing.

I don't know yet what will happen. But just as I know this person will stand by what was said, I stand by what I did.

Still out....

Today is National Coming Out Day.

I have been out since early 2012, unashamed of who I am and how I live my life. I am a lesbian, and I am living authentically, raising my children to live authentically.

But coming out is still important.

The LGBTQ community has gotten a lot of great news lately. More than half of the states in our country have marriage equality, giving this basic right to a significant percentage of the population. More and more, people are not afraid to live authentically, and when they come out, they are met with support and love by friends and family members.

But coming out is still important.

Because there are still many states--including my own home state of Florida--that do not allow same-sex marriage. There are people who have decided that they're own prejudices should determine the rights of others where they live. And they need to know we're not going away just because they don't like us. We are here and deserve rights and we aren't afraid of who we are.

And coming out is still important.

Because there are people--particularly teenagers--who can't come out because they would be disowned or kicked out of their homes or risk being physically assaulted by people who are supposed to love and support them in all things.

I have been extremely lucky. I wasn't disowned by my family,* and have found incredible support and love from friends and Bo and her family. But I know that there are so many who aren't as fortunate as I have been.

So because they have no voices, I will be their voice. I will speak for them and fight for them and show them that there is love and support in this world. It is not all ugly and intolerant. There are 35 states that are working to prove that.

Coming out is still important, and always will be.






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*There are those who have distanced themselves from me since I came out and since Bo and I started dating, but it was done quietly.

Why conceptual gayness is different from practical gayness

When I came out to people, they were largely supportive. In fact, people I thought might disown me or turn their backs on me didn't. Some people were confused and sad and angry, but they seemed to accept it.

And then I started dating, and things shifted.

What was once a non-issue became an issue. People who had once been comfortable discussion marriage equality and LGBTQ rights with me were suddenly nervous about the topics, or were much harder to get in touch with.

A couple of friends seemed to drift away entirely, and this has prompted me to think about conceptual gayness and practical gayness.

For the purposes of this post, "conceptual gayness" refers to someone being gay but not in a relationship. For the purposes of this post, "practical gayness" refers to someone who is gay and in a relationship.

There can be a bit of a shock when someone comes out as gay, even if they are not already in a relationship. Saying you're gay is a shift in thinking for family and friends, but it's manageable. It's just something you are.

But when you make that shift to practical gayness, and show that not only are you gay, but you have every intention of living a "gay lifestyle," people can no longer ignore the fact that you're gay or pretend you're still straight and single. You are really gay.

It's a strange shift because, to me, there was no shift. I was the same person I always was. The only difference was that I was in a happy, healthy relationship. When I said I was gay the first time, I meant it, after all.

And still, conceptual gayness and practical gayness makes things different, I guess.

Is this what people mean when they say they're not opposed to gays as long as they don't "flaunt it"? I have heard people (I know) say, "What you do in the privacy of your home is your business, but don't throw it in my face." Does the public declaration of my relationship constitute flaunting my sexuality?*

Here's the thing: I'm not in the closet anymore. And it irritates me that those in my life who claimed to be supportive of that are now balking at the fact that I closed the closet door behind me.

I haven't changed. I'm still Puck and Tink's mom. I'm still a writer. I'm still mildly addicted to coffee.

I'm just me in a relationship with an amazing, beautiful, wonderful woman whom I love very much. I am gay in the conceptual and practical sense.

And it shouldn't be any different.






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*Let's pretend we don't see teenage (straight) couples climbing all over each other and making out in public, oblivious to the world around them. Because that's different from me holding my girlfriend's hand in public.

Florida speaks out for marriage equality

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There's movement in the efforts for marriage equality all over the country, including my (now) home state of Florida.

In August of this year, a federal judge declared Florida's 2008 marriage amendment unconstitutional. However, there was a 30-day stay put on the ruling to allow for appeals. On September 5th, Attorney General Pam Bondi asked the judge not to lift the stay on the ruling, saying that the decision should be made by the U.S. Supreme Court. She has since filed an appeal on behalf of a court clerk and two Rick Scott employees to overturn the recent ruling in favor of marriage equality. Bondi's position is that the decision should be made by the voters and not by the courts, arguing that the 2008 amendment speaks for Florida's residents.

Rick Scott decided not to prevent the appeal. As far as I know, there has not been a date set to hear the argument at the Eleventh Circuit Court.

This is major progress, and it's good.

However, there is part of me that thinks motions and briefs and appeals and whatever else will be filed and filed to delay at least until the middle of November because Bondi (and Scott) are up for re-election.*

Marriage equality is important to me. It's frustrating to me to think that the state I love and call home has legislation that tells me I'm not allowed to marry someone I love. That my family is less than for something out of my control.

I don't know what's going to happen in Florida, or when. But I hope Florida will stand on the right side of history.






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*Which could be a very good thing, depending on who wins the elections.