lesbian parents

As I’ve mentioned before, I was raised in a strict Christian household. It was full of love, but it was also a house that didn’t like Ellen DeGeneres or Rosie O'Donnell simply because they were gay. A house that would turn off the tv when the lesbian episodes of Friends were on (while I ran to the tv in my room and pressed “mute” to see it). One that would roll their eyes at the idea of gay marriage. Parents that meant well and just went by what they were taught, wanting us to grow up with something to believe. I remember sobbing in high school, thinking they would absolutely kill me. Things slowly started changing when I was 16+.

My Mom was the one who asked if I was gay. She was my biggest supporter, my secret keeper, and the one I told everything to. My Dad? He went from not wanting me to come out, to protect me, to telling everyone he knows if they ask if I’m “dating any new guys” - because that’s simply who I am. In his words “why hide it? Who cares?”. My Mom came to me about Carol on her own, wanting to watch it to see the love story. When gay marriage was legalized, I called my Mom sobbing. She was sobbing with me, after yelling “YES! THANK GOD” in front of all of her friends.

After being raised to hate who I was, not even allowing it to be an option - to now, my Mother texting me just now saying “Do you have any more Human Rights Campaign stickers like you have on your car? I want one on mine”

Change is a beautiful thing. Believe in it and believe in people.

THAT’S parenting.

When you have a child, you’re not signing up for them to be an exact copy of you, you don’t sign up for them to be straight, cisgender, a certain religion, you sign up to bring another human into the world and raise them as their own person, and the minute you make a decision to have a child, you have signed up for them not to be straight, not to be cis, not to have a certain religion. You can’t attach terms and conditions to a human being, and as a parent, your child being gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, transgender, non binary and so many more identities, should not be used as an excuse to make their life hell, to remind them all the time that they’re not what you signed up for. If you do that, you are not a good parent. You can tell yourself you are, you can tell your child you are, but really you’re a monster. When you have a child, you sign up to accept, love and support them for them.

7

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.”

Gay people are often asked whether they think their children are more likely to be gay than the children of straight people. And gay people often answer that most gay people have straight parents. That usually stumps the questioner, but it doesn’t really answer the question.

I didn’t know, when I was six years old, that there were women who marry women. At the age of thirteen, the idea of my being gay was just unavailable to me. I accepted my lack of enthusiasm for the prospect of dating boys as another sign of being immature and a hopeless nerd. If my mother had been a lesbian, I would have known I had that option, too—that even a working class Italian could be a Dyke.


So, when people ask me whether I think my lesbianism makes it more likely that my daughter will be gay, I just say—“Yes, thank the Goddess.”


[…] To her, being a lesbian means being strong, being smart, running fast, climbing over fences, and riding a bike with no hands.

—  Rose Romano, “La Famiglia—Straight or Gay” from We Are Everywhere: Writings By & About Lesbian Parents (1988).

friendly reminder to parents that it is okay to learn new things from your child, especially if they identify within the LGBTQ+ community. because chances are, there are going to be things that they’ll know that you may not. it doesn’t make you stupid, it makes you an understanding and open-minded parent.

6

Coming out is scary just like battling You Know Who. But once you’ve done it, you can say you’ve faced Voldemort.


I’m hella potterhead since I was five years old so I chose Harry Potter to help me say that I’m hella gay too.
(idea) (her/she)

{instagram

TO QUEER PEOPLE WHO ARE ABUSED PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, VERBALLY, ETC, BY THEIR PARENTS.

It’s not your fault, you don’t deserve this sort of pain as for any discriminated queer person. Your parents are supposed to love and support you as they have since they day you came into this world. You are forever beautiful and protected by this community. There will always be people you can communicate with to give you advice on what to do, I’m sorry your parents treat you this way. You matter as much as anyone else, your health matters and your happiness. Your identity is forever valid. Take care of yourself.

(Please add anything if I missed something. I feel like this isn’t enough I’m saying.)

MY MOTHER ASKED ME TO STOP WRITING ABOUT HER
 
  1
 
  When my best friend was a child,
  her mother used The Game of Life
  as a metaphor to explain sexuality.
 
  “You can have two pink guys
  or two blue guys, you know,”
she explained.
 
  My best friend is so straight,
  she doesn’t even masturbate.
 
  Still, she always knew that even
  if she wasn’t, even if someday she ended up
  shotgun to another pink piece,
 
  she would remain loved and supported.
 
  She wouldn’t have to ask for forgiveness.
  Of all the things she was taught to apologize for,
  love has never been one of them.
 
  2
 
  My mother doesn’t bring up my sexuality
  anymore. I think she is tired of arguing.
 
  She is sick of reading about her faults
  in my poetry. She hates my selective memory;
  how I only remember the sharp things,
  the slammed doors, the heavy whiskey.
 
  “I used to sing to you before bed
  every night,”
she reminds me icily.
  “but you must’ve forgotten that story.”
 
  Last week, she silently folded up her old flannels
  and placed them at the foot of my bed.
 
  I know this is probably just a coincidence,
  not a peace treaty or an attempt to understand me.
 
  But for my own well-being,
  I have to take this as a sign she is trying,
 
  even if it isn’t.
—  MY MOTHER ASKED ME TO STOP WRITING ABOUT HER, by Blythe Baird.
@ parents of lgbt+ kids

Having homophobic and/or transphobic parents can actually destroy someone on the inside. It is a soul destroying feeling when those closest to you, the people you grew up with or still are growing up with, won’t accept who you are, or even disown you for simply being who you are.

When I came out as a lesbian my mum didn’t even look at me for a month, let alone talk to me. She told me that lesbians disgust her and she didn’t want a gay daughter. My dad kept telling me repeatedly that I was confused, telling me it was a choice and calling me “dyke” in the process. My grandmother told me I was going to hell, I was damaged, unnatural, dirty, sinful, and still calls it an “unsettling phase”.

Every individual experience is different, but because of the clear message I got off my dad when I was 9 years old and he told me “never come home and tell me you’re gay” I buried my sexuality for years, dated boys, kissed boys, would have gone a lot further with them if I had ever been in a position to do so, sometimes even hoped to end up in that position because I was so desperate to be “normal” even though the thought of doing anything with a boy disgusted me, which in turn filled me with even more self hatred, didn’t tell anyone when I was harassed online by a man twice my age when I was only 13 because I thought it was the least I deserved after having such “unnatural” thoughts. I grew to have so much internalised homophobia due to the fear I had of being gay because my dad had said that to me when I was only 9 years of age. I faked crush after crush on boys, staring at their Facebook profiles willing myself to feel something, anything, yet looking at a random girl in the street and feeling a fire burn inside me, yet still not accepting it, burying it and blocking it out.

I blocked it out as best as possible, talking about boys and acting as straight as possible, especially around my friends, until I was almost 16, when I saw a lesbian couple kiss on BBC television on at 8pm programme, and in that moment, I knew that was what I wanted, I knew that I couldn’t spend my life being something I’m just not, pretending every day of my life. I knew in that moment that I was gay, I knew that I wanted a girlfriend, I knew that I wanted a wife, and for the first time the idea of marriage seemed appealing, and I felt at peace and like I truly knew myself.

So a couple of months later, I told my friends, which took more courage than I knew I had. After that went well, I felt confident enough to tell my parents, encouraged by the good experience of coming out to my friends.

I was a mess when I told my mum. Although I felt confident enough to do it, I was still terrified and shaking and it was the most nerve racking moment of my life. I didn’t mean for it to happen how it did, and I could have told her in a better way, but in that moment I felt I had to, it was the right time for me. After I told her, I went to my room where I sent her a text, which I’m not going to quote entirely because it’s too personal, but it explained everything, I told her the journey of discovering my sexuality, I told her I loved her, I explained my fears, my feelings, my experiences, everything. In response I received a text saying: “I can’t pretend I’m happy about this. I’m not at all, but I love you regardless.” Although I had wanted a proper conversation, I accepted that she was shocked and took the text as acceptance of me. However, later that day, I went downstairs and saw her for the first time since I told her. She was crying and wouldn’t look at me. When I went downstairs, she went upstairs. I tried not to be upset, understanding her shock and giving her time. After a week of not spending more than a minute in a room with her, and not having her look at me once, I decided to try again, so I said to her “we need to talk about this” but she walked away from me. I tried texting so she wouldn’t have to directly talk, but she ignored everything I sent her.

Throughout the month, nothing changed, I was constantly ignored by her, and when she told my dad without consulting me, he just told me I was confused, and shouted at me for upsetting everyone, telling me I was messing up my GCSEs because of my confusion and immature phase, when the only thing endangering my grades was their prejudice and discrimination against their own daughter. As the month progressed, with still no change in either of them, I felt more and more worthless, my internalised homophobia reared its head once more, more prominent than ever, and I considered all sorts of things that I don’t even want to go into, I even looked at conversion therapy at one point because I felt like such a failure and a disappointment to my family, and my grandmother was the worst, calling me damaged and an unnatural sinner constantly.

The day my mum spoke to me again I was so shocked I could barely reply. She acted as though the last month hadn’t even happened, and went on like that for a week, blocking out what had happened, never once mentioning it, evidently hoping that it had all gone away or that her ignoring me had made me bury it again so it couldn’t tarnish our family and I could just live an unhappy life. At the end of that week, I mentioned it. I said “it’s not a phase” and she still wouldn’t talk, which is when I started to show my anger. This is when she told me that lesbians disgust her, spewing the typical hate about hell and morality and sin. Not being able to take it anymore, I locked myself in the bathroom, sat in the bathtub and properly cried for the first time in months. All my emotions came flooding out, and I would say that day was the saddest and most hopeless I’d ever felt. I felt utterly rejected, outcast, like I could never belong, like a disappointment, and a failure as a daughter, as a person.

During an argument with my dad, he called me a dyke, declaring I was damaged and that something had obviously gone drastically wrong during my development to “turn me”.

Those few months I felt so sad, lonely, isolated, rejected, hopeless and crushed. The two most important people in my life practically disowned me, and it took all the fight and courage I had to keep going, to keep pushing on, and I’m glad I did, because I love myself and have never been prouder of who I am, and things are better now, not completely, but they’re better, even though I can’t talk openly, even though I still feel insecure, even though I still tense up every time I so much as approach the subject around my parents, things are better.

All this occurred before and during my GCSE exams, when I should have been studying. My results are due at the end of this month, and I’ve accepted that I’m not going to have done very well, and I tell myself that it’s through no fault of my own. Through everything that was happening, I still found time to study. I tried my hardest but when the people closest to you seem to hate you for being you, it’s kind of hard to concentrate and focus on anything other than the constant throbbing ache inside when you know your parents, the people who made you, the people who raised you, the people who always told you they loved you, don’t accept you.

So parents of LGBTQA+ children and teenagers, please please accept your child. If you weren’t prepared for the possibility of your child not being straight and/or cis, then you shouldn’t have had a child. Simple as that. Your child’s sexuality and gender are just as natural as they hair colour and eye colour. Please, please, please love your children, accept them, support them. Everything I went through could have been avoided had my parents done so. And the scary thing is I was lucky. Some people are thrown out, completely disowned, attacked, some people are even killed. I count myself lucky, and that’s sad. It’s sad that I count myself lucky for being unaccepted by my parents, because some people could tell stories that would make you sick about their coming out, that would make your skin crawl, but this is my story, and I’m sharing it in the hope that it will help young LGBTQA+ individuals, but also in the hope that it will help parents. Please love your children. Accept them. Support them. Tell them you love them. Make them feel accepted. Make them feel supported. Because you could lose them. Far too many young people take their own lives because their parents don’t accept them, simply because of who they want to love.

Love is love, and love is the most important thing.

if you are bisexual with bad parents, the ocean is your mom now.

if you are trans with bad parents, the sky is your dad now.

if you are ace with bad parents, the moon is your mom now.

if you are gay with bad parents, the sun is your dad now.

if you are lesbian with bad parents, the beach is your mom now.

if you are nonbinary with bad parents, the stars are your parents now.

if you are intersex with bad parents, the the forest is your dad now.

if you are otherwise queer with bad parents, the earth is your mom now.

them’s the rules, folks.

🌈 TO THE QUEER TEENS WHO CAN’T EXPRESS THEIR GENDER THE WAY THEY WANT BECAUSE OF THEIR PARENTS, ETC.

I know it’s tough (and I understand). Most parents will either think you’re too young or are being “influenced.” And it’ll feel like an eternity until you’re out of their household. But you can still identify as however even if you’re not able to present your gender a certain way yet. Remember that one day, you will get what you want. For now, remember that your are 100% valid and beautiful and you have the support of the community by your side. Stay safe. 🏳️‍🌈