This one, from Andrew Sullivan, came to me via Tori, a friend from my college days.
What is it with right wing conservatives and their gay kids (or grandkids)? There's Dick and Mary. There's Jesse Helms and his gay grandaughter. Now, we find that one of the major backers of Georgia's proposed constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage has a gay daughter.
There's one bright spot to this one, however. This lesbian daughter publicly rejects her mother's bigotry. In doing so, she paints a picture of just what "compassionate conservatism" looks like in W's America.
I am the daughter of Sadie Fields, president of the Christian Coalition of Georgia. I was appalled by the column my mother wrote justifying her bigotry, and I feel compelled to respond ("Can't let the few hurt society as a whole," @issue, Oct. 25).
The first time there was a definitive split between my mother and me, I was in the seventh grade. My best friend's name was Lisa. She was Jewish. Concerned about what our pastor had stated about Jews in the afterlife, I went to my mother and asked her if Lisa was going to burn in hell. My mother's response, "If she does not accept the Lord Jesus then yes, she will go to hell." Right there, she lost me. I have disagreed with her ever since.
I was 24 years old when my mother, through a series of mishaps, found out I was gay. My mother came over to where I worked, screaming, and told me I was "dead" to the family. She called me "sick," "crazy" and "of the devil." She said that I would never see my family again.
For more than five years after that day, I heard nothing from my family. No birthday cards, no invitations to Christmas or Thanksgiving events. It wasn't just the loss of my immediate family that was difficult, but the loss of my extended family as well. Since my mother refused to be in the same room with me, it forced my aunts and uncles to choose sides. I have not been to a family reunion in more than a decade.
There you have it, folks. The "family values" of those who would preach to the rest of us about what family should be, laid bare.
But Tess Fields goes on to show just why same sex couples and their families needs the rights and protections currently granted to married heterosexual couples.
When my partner, Trisha, and I decided to have a child, we were not unlike most couples making this decision. We considered whether or not we were emotionally and financially ready. We considered the ways that it would change our lives and our relationship with each other.
…The only thing unusual about our pregnancy was the critical necessity of a lawyer.
Given my mother's abject hostility toward gay and lesbian people, in the process of my pregnancy we had to spend thousands of dollars protecting ourselves from her potential interference. In spite of the fact that she has never, in more than a decade, visited me, and has written numerous articles comparing me to pedophiles and people who have sex with animals, according to the law, my mother has more rights to our child than Trisha.
What if I died during the birth? What if something happened to me before the lawyers could get the adoption finalized? These were the kinds of fears that our family had to face, and we felt robbed. Expecting a child should be a wonderful moment in a couple's life. Pregnancy, in and of itself, can be challenging, but the greater excitement of a baby on the way seems to balance these fears for most people. My family, however, had to be concerned about my mother's extremism, and what legal grounds she had if she decided to try and take Trisha's child. And then we had to prepare, meticulously, if that threat were ever realized.
A friend once told me that becoming a parent does two things: It teaches you to love in a whole new way, and it teaches you to fear in a whole new way. It was not until I became pregnant that I understood completely what she meant.
I lived through something similar when we became parents. We, too, needed a lawyer, and we also had to consider our families' reactions. It was particularly a concern when we went to visit my family in Georgia over the holidays last year. You see, my parents are as religious (and about as anti-gay) as Field's monther. In fact, I have every confidence that they will vote in favor of the proposed constitutional amendment in Georgia. (I haven't confirmed this with them, because I frankly just don't want to know.)
Before going to visit them, my partner and I agreed that at no time would our son be left alone in their presence. I wasn't too concerned that they might somehow try to take him away from us, but I had to be at least somewhat concerned because the reality was that they could and in Georgia we would face an uphill battle in protecting our parenthood; a battle we might not be sure to win.
Tess Fields' friend was right. Becoming a parent does teach you to love in a whole new way. I discovered a capacity to love that I didn't know I had before. It does also teach you to fear in a new way. The thought of losing my son...well, it's something I don't even have words for, except to say that I would be beyond devastated. And I remember all too well what happened to Sharon Bottoms in Virginia.
I'll wrap up this post with Tess Fields' words, which I want to echo.
For those of you voting no on Amendment One, thank you for standing up for families like mine. Thank you for making the world a safer place for our son. Thank you for helping ensure that he receives good health care. Regardless of what happens to me, he will continue to grow safely in the arms of his loving mother and grandparents. Thank you for not allowing a form of religious extremism that leaves families shattered and broken to be written into law, becoming a way of life for all.
If you're in Georgia, vote "no" on 1.
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