Voice = Evolution.

You know what sucks about being gay? - Being edited. I know that I should look at my life against a backdrop of my historically oppressed social location and be grateful. But, with marriage headed for the Supreme Court at the same time children are hanging themselves in their closets; it's just no longer acceptable to allow our voices to be edited.
I've read that while in some ways being the child of a same sex couple can be a burden because of the possibility of bullying; I've also read that another by product is a feeling of being special. That's nice and in some ways, and I can relate to that. My experience is limited: I was the only child of a loving couple, the child of a widow, the step child and step sibling, a child in a single-parent divorcée, and finally, one of many step children in a kind of Brady Bunch sort of thing. I've never however, been the child of a same sex couple. I imagine however, that it's kind of like what we go through as lesbians. I've often felt my culture is more a blessing to me than a burden. Taking the good out of what can be a burden, is powerful.
So, truth be known, I love being gay. I love the discomfort I had to face when my heart didn't mirror what I saw on tv; I love the past angst that made me who I am; I love my wife; I even love our rainbow towel set. What I don't love is when I get edited out of life because of I'm gay.
Not too long ago, my wife and I were on a Delta Airlines plane on our honeymoon when we heard the pilot announce his congratulations to another honeymooning couple. The whole cabin smiled and clapped as that couple smiled and was served champagne. My wife, a rather demonstrative woman new to what I'd call the "gay" life, enthusiastically called the stewardess over to share our circumstances as well. Turns out, we weren't even the only ones to do that. Before the stewardess even got over to us, two other couples were being publicly congratulated and served my favorite drink - sweet champagne with strawberries. But here I was, cringing as the love of my life was leaning over to wave at the happy couples while summoning the stewardess to come faster over to us.
The stewardess tried to feign a smile and said she's see what she could do. Now, I love my wife and would defend her to my death, but it's a shame that in a situation like this what should be a euphoric time span of our lives can get interrupted with all kinds of feelings, like embarrassment or even anger. Of course, the stewardess returned with some excuse about how they couldn't announce our engagement due to their "reluctance be too political". I think they eventually did offer us a couple of complimentary glasses of some very cheap, dry sparkling wine, but the moment had certainly passed.
Too political? No fair! It's only political when they stop joyous announcements like that and blame us for "ruining marriage".
This again happened recently to me in a way that ticked me off.
I'm not a reality tv watcher or anything but apparently Kim Kardashian recently had some kind of encounter with her sister about co-Breastfeeding. My wife and I happened to be big advocates on the subject, so when the Long Island Newsday called my friend Donna Kimick, IBC Lacation Consultant for a statement on the subject, she suggested my name as a further source for the article's resources.
Co-Breastfeeding is geographically and historically common, but fairly rare in the United States. However, why would lesbian parents be more apt to perform this locally rare activity? More breasts perhaps? This reporter, Jenny Berger, took my statement about how I'd induced lactation for our first born which my wife birthed, and how my wife was able to sustain our second while I recouped from an emergency C section. She thanked me for my contribution, and I walked away - feeling a little special. The article looked good and fair and short and sweet, and I felt good that our unique experience might enliven a discussion on the topic. I felt good, that is, until the article I saw got chopped!
I got edited out entirely. At first, I thought there must have just been a spacing issue. In hindsight though Donna pointed out that it may have been considered by some to be too "political" for Long Island's Newsday. It's bad enough that we can't even vacation certain places, and that I still have to struggle with labels and pronouns sometimes with students or having to decide if it's safer to just tell this cab driver that "Yes, my husband is home waiting for me". But when I am living my life and someone else edits me to save their status quo? I want to vomit. This is how we wound up here. There's nothing fair about saving the peace of mind of the ignorant, insecure, and bigoted who might be bothered by a lesbian's tit. What I want to know is how we are to gain our independence if we are dismissed and silenced by complacency? This editing is not political. It's oppressive. Even little things can make big ripples but they have to be thrown out there in the first place, ya know what I mean?

"Daddy"

 ...comes flying out of my 3 year old boy's mouth this year like a dirty word he must have picked up on the street.  My wife and I joke that we don't know where he "picks up that kind of language" but the sting for me goes deeper than our fleeting sarcasm reveals.  Of course, it's directed at me - the bigger, bulkier but-not-so-much-butchier one I guess with the insecurity chip on her shoulders.  Why am I the "Daddy"?  I'm the one who does the dishes.  I'm the one who gets flowers on Valentine's Day.  It was such a catharsis in my life the day my wife asked me to marry her with a beautiful diamond engagement ring complete with a rainbow of precious stones around the band.  She gave me back something that day I didn't realize I'd lost - my sexuality - and boy do I fill the part!  I'm the one who wants to stay up all night when we fight if we have to in order to "talk things out."  I'm the milder disciplinarian. They ask me when they want lollipops for breakfast, and they occasionally get it!  My wife?  She's the breadwinner.  She makes the big decisions.  It's Ema who charts the family's course through this world.  So why does he look up and curiously decide to call me "Daddy"?  She probably wouldn't mind.  This just goes against the narrative of us that I'd designed.

I'm calm though.  I'm a New York City public high school teacher - I can handle anything!  I ignore it.  I ignore it the second time - the third - the fourth. We call this "Planned ignoring".  Anyone know how to make God laugh?  The first day I survive.  The second is when I start losing some sleep.  By the third, I'm consulting Facebook lesbian mommies and our MTM group (Modern Tribal Momas) for advice.  Has anybody experienced this before?  Has everybody survived? What are the causes?  What are the cures?  I don't get too far.  God blessed this lesbian couple quickly ahead of all our friends with not one but two ...boys.  Here I am yet again adrift in a sea of uncharted waters.  This is not unlike my whole adolescence!

One night, it dawns on me to explore his reading library that we began back when we had the luxury of such time and idealism in college.  I'm all too quick to pass up "Heather Has Two Mommies" falsely dismissing it due to the stereotypically butchie carpenter mom and feeling averse to bring linked with that association.  My insecurity already steers me away from the other mother's role of "Doctor".  I find another title in our diversity collection: "Do I have a Daddy?" and wind up in a pinch reading that to my son.  While his eyes were wide with interest and we read together with wild presence we were both disappointed by that mother 's loose retort to her son's inquiry about why Daddy just left them. The only wisdom that mom had to offer my son and I was that she "didn't know" but that she loved him and that was all that mattered blah, blah, blah...

It turns out that a mixture of i-g-n-o-r-e, another look at (and nightly ritual read) of "Heather Has Two Mommies", and some genuine one-on-one chats have thankfully nudged this "Daddy" stage into a phase of the past.  I'm not sure that I went about this the proper way, and there is plenty to be said about the need for some quality children's literature on this subject, but I can tell you that I am "Mom" again. This was compounded just the other day when a song about moms was being sung on television.  I snuggled up around him and he leaned back against me in such a way that I felt we'd successfully settled the issue, and he's been waking me up with a special smile and a "Good morning Mom" that is truly the best part of my waking up!  Each time he says the word "Mom" now it seems to be with renewed conviction.  I know the subject will once again arise in our lives and as they get older they'll demand deeper and deeper explanations of all sorts of issues, but for now I feel pride in the fact that I've dealt with our first direct same-sex parenting issue and survived to tell the tale.  Thank God I managed to navigate this one with my natural genitals in tacked.  Who knows what could be threatened next time!