Nearly every year, for the past thirty years, Frances Goldin has gone to New York City Pride holding a sign that reads, “I adore my lesbian daughters. Keep them safe.” (x)
“Since the beginning of the parade, I’ve been going and waving my sign,” Goldin said. “It sort of hit a nerve with people, particularly those whose parents rejected them. The response to the sign is always so great — it urges me to keep going.”
“Everybody would come running up to her and cry, kiss her, and say, ‘Would you call my mother?’ or ‘Would you be my mother?’” her daughter, Sally, explained.
“She’d take down names and addresses and write letters to these kids’ mothers!”
When asked about all the young LGBT parade-goers who have begged her to speak to their own mothers, Goldin replied, “I think I changed a few people’s minds and I’m glad about that. Everyone should support their gay and lesbian children, they’re missing a lot in life if they don’t.”
The story of Nan Goldin and New York goes back to 1977 when, diploma in hand, she landed in the vibrant, cosmopolitan atmosphere of the American megacity. Drugs, rock n’ roll, punks, drag queens, run-down neighborhoods, friends and lovers struck down by AIDS—all these can be found in her intimate series The Ballad of Sexual Dependency