Once their letters of reference are secured and their home study paperwork is complete, straight and gay would-be adoptive parents face one of the most stressful events of their adoption home study—the dreaded visit or series of visits by a social worker to their home. This is a high-stakes event. This social worker has the power to advance your dreams or stop them dead. Don’t be placated by anyone who tells you, “Relax. Just be yourself.” When has that ever worked for anyone? Here are some suggestions.
By the time your social worker arrives at your doors, she has poured over your home study application and developed her positive or negative preconceptions of you. The instant you answer the door, your attire either reinforces or neutralizes these positive and negative preconceptions—so dress with care.
|Prospective Parents||Suggested Attire|
|Married Straights||You have your social worker’s seal of approval in the bag, unless you blow it. Just imagine you are dressing for a casual dinner with friends. Husbands, pull out your polo shirts with your Ivy League logos. It’s a nice way to telegraph that your child will eventually be granted legacy admission status at Harvard. Wives, avoid skirts showing too much upper thigh. This sets off the social worker’s Britney Spears maternal alarm.|
|Single Straights||Look really well put together, even if you need to call in help. Make sure the home is well decorated and there’s something more in the fridge besides Rocky Road. Social workers will be looking for signals that you have food disorder issues and don’t have your shit together and that’s the reason you’re not married.|
|Gay Males||Strive for an I’m-too-focused-on-becoming-a-parent-to-worry-about-my-appearance look. Avoid tight jeans, muscle shirts, Italian suits, expensive cologne, or flawlessly gelled hair. Look like you wouldn’t mind playing in a playground sandbox, even though you wonder if rats run through it at night and whether birds do their business over it during the day. Yuk!||Lesbians||Femme it up a little (even if you’re not usually inclined to), but not so much that it looks like an act. While some social workers are raging liberals secretly rooting for you, others will share society’s concern that you’ll deny your daughter her birthright to express herself in pinkness, frills and Barbie dolls.|
|Prospective Parents||Staging Suggestions|
|Gay Men|| You are all too familiar with the concept of staging. Your people invented it. Remember when you pretended to be straight in high school? Then when you had your own apartment, you alternated between your gay or straight decor, depending on whether your friends or your family were coming to visit?
Regardless of your income bracket, your home undoubtedly looks magnificent. What you need to do is anti-staging. This involves removing select pieces of fine art and antiques from walls and shelves and placing them into a storage unit so that your home doesn’t look too perfect (too gay) to be welcoming to a small child. Tuck away your artsy coffee table books. Take down the nude male oil painting that has looked down on you seductively for the last ten years. Trash the adult videos (it’s time for Disney DVDs anyway).
|Straight Men and Women||Make sure your priorities are clear. If you’ve been using the second bedroom as a home office, clear it all out and make it look like all it’s missing is the crib and a baby to go in it. If this room has been your entertainment center where you watch football games and Netflix movies on a 60-inch plasma or play Grand Theft Auto into the wee hours to calm your work anxieties, rip the brackets out of the wall, repair the plaster, and repaint in a friendly gender-neutral pastel that says, “We can’t wait to welcome any child the world sees fit to give us.”|
|Lesbians||You need to do something about your second bedroom, too. Your teetering, overloaded bookshelves are filled with hardcover editions of female writers past and present. There are the historical ones who couldn’t face their lesbianism and (since antidepressants weren’t invented) committed suicide; writers who became feminists and then discovered, “Hey, I’m really a lesbian after all”; lesbian mystery writers just in it for the money; and writers you’re sure will prove to be lesbians. And while you’re at it, box up your fifty-volume journal documenting every insult society has dealt you and move it to the circular storage unit.|
|Category||Relationship Dynamic||Suggested Push Present|
|Lesbians who can’t face the pain of having the baby themselves||These lesbians want the joy of a family without the physical pain. They have to pay.||Something extravagant based on their income level.|
|Lesbians too old to have the baby themselves||This is your last chance in life to experience this wonderful event, so you better deliver when she delivers.||Put everything in your partner and unborn child’s name. Show them you care.|
|Lesbians who fought over who would have the baby and lost.||Lesbians in this category need to prove they don’t hold a bitter grudge against the birth mother. A push present says, “I accept your gift of a child, and I am ready to love this child as my own.”||You may think twice about having a child after you’ve seen what your partner has just gone through. Cough it up big time. A trip to Europe or the Caribbean. Make it special.|
| Lesbians Who Rejects All Gender Stereotypes||It’s all about equity in everything from finances to household duties to the bedroom. A push present would only disrupt the delicate equilibrium. They already know they’ll share equally in all post-push child care duties and expenses.||None.|
© 2009 by Carrie Smith and Cynthia Swain. All rights reserved.
This is the time of year when children around the world anticipate the arrival of their patron saint, Santa Claus. On playgrounds, at play dates, and in playgroups, Santa is their single obsession. Children, like adults, love to demonstrate their extensive knowledge on subjects dear to their heart, and so…
They share their personal Santa experiences:
I heard him on my roof last year…
He loved the chocolate macaroons we left for him, but he didn’t drink the milk…
He gave me exactly what I asked for…
They claim to have deep biographical knowledge about Santa:
He’s 321 years old…
He has 78 elves…
He was born in this place called Lapland…
He’s been giving gifts for centuries…
He has magic dust that comes out of his scalp like dandruff…
And once in a while, in their effort to claim preferred status, things turn ugly:
Santa doesn’t like gay families. If he finds out your parents are gay, he stops coming to your house.
Have you done your Santa education so your child can refute the meanies and offer up their own share of Santa facts? If not, here’s what they need to know.
Santa does likes gay families.
While Santa himself is not gay (Mrs. Clause is not his other beard), he is the ultimate gay-friendly being. After all, he has established his own remote northern village where he lives with an entire community of elves. And everyone knows about elves. They’re hundreds of years old, still act like children, never age, and love Christmas kitsch. They gotta be gay, and Santa would be nothing without them.
Santa always brings presents to children with gay parents.
In fact, Santa has been known to deposit a few extra packages for children with gay parents. This is because Santa knows some of these children get teased at school, omitted from party lists, and overlooked by grandparents who aren’t very grand when it comes to getting past the gay issue.
Santa loves really good Christmas trees, which many gay people have.
Also, Santa doesn’t want to miss the spectacular Christmas tree displays of gay men with vast vintage glass blown ornament collections. Santa loves a well-executed tree. And he appreciates the efforts of rugged, back-to-the-land lesbians who march out to the forest and chop down their own Christmas trees. From his sleigh, he is drawn down to their homes by the aromatic pine scent of their freshly cut trees.
Santa knows gay people have a lot of holiday spirit and he appreciates this.
Santa knows that many gay parents never felt the joy of Christmas as children. They were too busy being miserable, suicidal, and ashamed of who they were. And they never felt the joy of Christmas as adults either, because every holiday brought them home to the same people who tortured them as children and now asked them, “When are you going to get married?” Now that they have children themselves, these gay parents are reliving their childhood along with their children, so they always make Christmas a really big deal. On Christmas Eve, they leave out the tastiest cookies, the coldest milk, and the nicest notes.
Santa does NOT like gay haters.
He has been known to leave them coal or sticks. When he does leave them presents, it’s only in the hope that they will discover the true meaning of Christmas and stop being so mean.
© 2008 by Carrie Smith. All rights reserved.
It has been a wild ride since I last wrote anything substantive. The boys are upstairs watching a movie and I am in the living room trying to think all of what is running through my mind as I am cooking a turkey. We were at my parents for Thanksgiving but I cannot live without leftovers and soup and Turkey pot pies so the boys and I are having our own dinner today.So, we finalized Bryce’s adoption in May and that was all said and done. I launched into the summer with 2 kids and new central air conditioning. Well the installers screwed up the installation and as a result that unbeknownst to us there was Mold growing and proliferating through the house.
We were all pretty sick through May, June but we had no idea why.My mother’s health continued to deteriorate and still does to present. The kids lost their Nano (another grandfather from my “Chosen” family and were hit pretty hard with that. All I have been able to do id navigate water with them that is uncharted. However, the preparation was worth it and they are doing ok with it and appear to be doing ok with my mother’s continued state of decline. This holiday led her to the ICU and her checking out against medical orders to be with the kids. It is her life and she needs to choose to live it how she sees fit and all I can do is be a support to her and transition my kids through it.The mold situation continued to escalate and when we returned home from our July vacation we closed up the house and switched on the central air. Little did we know that we were living in a toxic environment cause by the negligence of others.
We all became ill. Ben with terrible persistent nose bleeds Bryce and I with upper respiratory issues accompanied by rashes, conjunctivitis and breathing issues. It was not until the 28th of July that I discovered the mold.After consultation with specialists and others, I packed up the kids and left my home not knowing if I would or when we would return. We left first for Wisconsin for a family fishing holiday. It was spectacular. We enjoyed the time together and we all healed. We were all better within hours of leaving the house. This proved we could not come home. Upon our return we moved in with the wonderful man I was dating and proceeded to try to normalize life. It was great for the kids but most assuredly a disaster for our relationship. I discovered my true parental instinct and was running constantly to keep the boys in their normal routine. I poured my life savings into this house and sit on the brink of financial disaster but we made it home in October.
The house not completely ready and torn apart, we lived absent heat and furniture. However, the boys were happy. I was just anxious, waiting for the next bomb to drop. The economic situation did not help with mass layoffs at my company and more to come. All the while my only focus is and was the kids. Like a bear I am, ensuring their safety to my own detriment and their happiness is paramount.I discovered that my life is complete with those kids and that you realize what you are made of when you are in hot water (attribution to Eleanor Roosevelt).
I realized that a home is filled with more than furnishings and other things. Despite the tears over lost stuffed animals and other things we have returned to a tonic state. Despite repeated trips to Children’s Hospital in Boston and scary moments like the thought there was a cardiac effect on Bryce as a result of the mold and the creeping doubt about if you are doing the right thing, parental instinct is an amazing thing. Remarkably, we are all fine, the house is getting somewhat restored and I have learned that even I do have to throw out all the old (which I basically did) I can begin a new and my kids will be fine as long as I am fine, or at least never let them see you sweat!!!
Ben is now almost half done with first grade and he is a remarkable and loving little boy and I am very proud of him as a person. I respect my son. Bryce is growing in leaps and bounds on a dialy basis and his personality has emerged in full force along with all of the things about a three year old that makes me cry for a martini and a night off. Christmas is fast approaching and so is the new year which I hope is better than this one, but this is the year that I became a dad again so that far outweighs all the tragedy that befell us.
I also know I can make it through, alone if necessary and the boys and I will be fine. I would rather not proceed that way but as much as I strive for balance there are times that there is no balance and life is weighted totally to the children and that is the way it is….so someone out there has to understand that what few precious moments we get alone as parents, whoever we share those precious moments with should or has to realize just how special those moments are.
The election is only days away. Imagine for a moment that Barack has won the Whitehouse. (It’s okay. Hope doesn’t jinx him. Only voter fraud can do that.) What’s next?
• The Republican Party is in shambles.
• The Electoral College map has shifted historically.
• Neo-Conservative foreign policy ends abruptly.
• Theo-Conservative rhetoric is relegated to angry, bitter direct mail fundraising newsletters and mega-church sermons to the already converted.
• Pocketbook Republicans check their fund statements on an hourly basis and take anti-depressants.
• And the rest of us cheer for the first time in years.
And what happens to Dick Cheney when he says goodbye to the Beltway?
Does he go to Afghanistan and crawl into one of Osama’s abandoned caves and admit defeat? That would make many of us cheer even louder. But more likely, he refuses to give up. Maybe he even launches a grassroots effort to rebuild the party he destroyed by focusing on the Next Great Hope, a future generation of potential Republican voters—his grandchild. And maybe all the other conservative republican grandparents follow his lead.
Mary might not object to this given her loyalty to father and GOP, but if you were Mary, think of what you might be saying as Dick came over to spend time with his grandson. Think of what you may need to say to your own parents who look to your child as the future of their political dreams.
“Dad, please don’t rant about democrats today. We don’t want to cut you off. We’re tired of spending hours correcting your misinformation whenever he comes home from seeing you.”
“You are NOT to play Guantanamo with him anymore. He’s taught all the other boys at school how to round up terrorists, and several parents have complained. Go back to cowboys and Indians, if you have to play a politically incorrect game.”
“Quit talking to him about second Amendment rights. And don’t even think about giving him a shooting lesson. We don’t believe in guns, and you know very well what happened the last time you fired at close range.”
“Tell me exactly what the two of you do today, and don’t lie. He came home and searched the entire house for weapons of mass destruction.”
“If you want to help with homework, stick to adding and subtracting. Please don’t give a crash course in trickle down economics and tax-and-spend policy.”
“I don’t think you should play Battleship.”
“If you can’t stick to the rules, don’t play Monopoly either. There’s nothing in the rules about credit default swaps.”
“If I ever catch you waterboarding one of our daughter’s American Girl Dolls again, you’ll be banned from future visits.”
“Quit sending him home with Log Cabin Republican fliers. I’m not interested.”
“No, she will not be going to the polls with you to vote. She will be coming with me and pulling the lever for MY candidate.”
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. But let’s hope that’s the problem we have instead of four more years of the Cheney legacy.
© 2008 by Carrie Smith. All rights reserved.
In Parts I, II, and III, you discovered that your children are second language learners when it comes to the rich idiomatic language of your gay culture. Have you begun your child’s Gay Language immersion yet? If not, don’t delay too much longer. Admittedly there are no workbooks at Barnes & Noble. There is no after-school Gay Language Program. And so far there are no gay language tutors out there. You’ll have to do it yourself. But if you don’t, you could pay a price.
Let’s review a favorite gay expression with literary roots, and explore the potential consequences of not teaching this expression to your children at an early age.
Friend of Dorothy
Child-friendly definition • another gay person
Synonym • a member of the tribe (See child-friendly definition)
Sample sentence • “Do you think our neighbor two doors down is a friend of Dorothy?”
Most gay people—except the very closeted, self-loathing, over-compensating, deeply in denial types (not the typical profile of a gay parent)—enjoy speculating about the sexual orientation of others using our will-honed gaydar (see child-friendly definition). It gives us a little thrill to spot one of our own kind—even if the one we’ve spotted hasn’t yet spotted him or herself.
And just because we become parents doesn’t mean we give up this little pleasure in life. Thus, one evening at the dinner table, you may find yourself saying to your partner, “I wonder if our neighbor two doors down is a friend of Dorothy.”
If you have not previously introduced this Gay Language idiom to your child, he or she may interrupt your conversation to ask, “Who’s Dorothy?” and you, wanting to deflect their curiosity, may say, “Oh, just an old friend of mine.”
Mistake! Not only have you bypassed a language teaching opportunity but you have also left your child with a misconception that could result in grave consequences. Remember, a child’s mental hard drive has a lot more storage space for trivial information than yours does. Your child will remember your passing interest in Dorothy and the neighbor long after you have moved on. He or she is also motivated by a deep desire to please you and come to the dinner table with valuable information to contribute to your adult conversations. The next time your child sees this neighbor, he or she may say, “My daddy (or mommy) wants to know if you are a friend of Dorothy.”
If your original speculation about the neighbor was correct, then there’s probably not much harm done. In fact, you might even make a new friend in the neighborhood.
If the neighbor isn’t gay and also doesn’t know Gay Language, then you have also dodged a bullet and your child may come to the dinner table and report, “By the way, Daddy (Mommy), that neighbor two doors down says he doesn’t know any Dorothy.”
If, however, the neighbor is straight and he’s more versed in Gay Language than your own child, then you may get a knock on your door. “You people are unbelievable,” he may say. “You send your children over to ask if I’m one of you? I’m no idiot. I know what friend of Dorothy means. You people shouldn’t be allowed to be parents!”
In this situation, there’s only one thing to do. Look at the neighbor and say, “Excuse me, but there’s been a terrible misunderstanding here. Dorothy is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and the other day I saw you in the grocery store parking lot talking to her—or at least I thought I did. Look, I can’t help it if my friend has the same name as a character Judy Garland once played. You know, not everyone with the name Dorothy is gay. Talk about being offended!” and shut the door immediately.
Then admit to your child that you lied–which is a very bad thing to do–and begin Gay Language instruction immediately.
© 2008 by Carrie Smith. All rights reserved.
It’s hard for gay parents to imagine that straight parents could possibly envy them. And yet, strangely enough, they sometimes do. At some point during your many encounters in the Mostly Straight World, you’ll be with a straight couple—having dinner, drinking a glass of wine while your collective children play or fight in the next room—and one or both of the parents will let down their guard and utter comments like this:
You two seem so in sync with each other. What’s that like?
It must be so nice to share the childcare equally.
I need a wife, too. God, everyone should have a wife.
We don’t even like the same foods.
She wants to have a conversation. I want to watch the playoffs. I bet that doesn’t happen to you.
I’m always the one who has to do the night feedings.
Why doesn’t she get out and get a job like both of you.
I bet you two have deep conversations. We never talk.
She wants to dissect every little thing. I bet two guys don’t do that.
I’m so sick of seeing chick flicks. Gay guys get to watch sports all the time.
You can wear each others clothes and have twice the wardrobe.
When you hear comments like these, you are experiencing the surprisingly prevalent concept of gay relationship envy. Believe it or not, some straight couples actually wish they had what you have—or what they think you have. You may be tempted to point out that you don’t like the same foods either, and it would never occur to you to share your clothes just because you could, and you’ve never been a fan of any sport. But this really isn’t about you. Don’t go into your complex relationship roles. Just smile and change the subject quickly, before the deep unspoken core of their envy bubbles to the surface and you hear information you would rather not know:
I bet it’s nice sometimes not to have a penis in bed with you.
She holds it like it’s a bird that going to break.
He wants it all the time. I could be dead asleep. I could have the flu. We could be shopping in Walmart. It doesn’t matter. Why does it work all the time for them? Why are they always ready?
She never wants it.
Comments like these are your cue to look at your watch and say, “Oh my God, it’s so late.” Get out fast.
© 2008 by Carrie Smith. All rights reserved.
We’ve been hearing a lot about hockey moms now that one of them is running for the second highest political office of the U.S. government.
In fact, hockey moms across the country are waking up to the realization that they have unique qualifications to be movers and shakers in our great democracy. Non-hockey moms are finding their way to the nearest Modell’s in search of hockey sticks and mouth guards and signing their son and daughters onto any teams that will have them. These parents want to be hockey moms, too, and serve their country in positions of leadership. All this time they were thinking that the mandatory credentials were out of their reach: an Ivy League law degree and years of door-to-door canvassing as a community organizer.
You, too, may be asking yourself, “Can I become a hockey mom and serve my country? Do I have what it takes to run for high political office?? Gay and lesbian parents in particular probably wonder about
their qualifications. Lesbian moms may be concerned because the only current hockey mom role model has big hair, impossibly high heels, and winks as if she’s trying to pick up a senator– something no lesbian mom would ever be caught doing, even if there were a cute female senator to wink at. And gay fathers may be wondering if the word “mom” in hockey mom automatically disqualifies them from participation even though many of them would feel right at home on spike heels and wouldn’t think twice about unleashing a well-timed wink to win a debate.
Who knows? Before you count yourself out, take the Hockey Mom Qualifications Test. It’s easy, it’s fun, and it’s free. Score more yes’s than no’s and you could be on your way to your first campaign fundraising event. Remember, a good political coach can help you with the hair, the heels, and your wink aversion.
_____ I think it’s doggone fun watching a zamboni do its thing.
_____ The sound of stainless steel blades scraping ice is poetry to me.
_____ I own a nice roomy SUV so I can pick up other players, stow their sticks, and make it to tournaments in a blizzard if I have to.
_____ I believe the sport of hockey is great training for a future in the military, and all our boys ought to be thinking about service to their country given the growing crop of terrorists on the loose in the Middle East.
_____ I love Harrison Ford–he is a real man’s man—and I can’t wait for my son to get a scar on his face, too.
_____ We don’t do enough in this country to encourage our children to be all that they can be. We need to be out there screaming at them to play harder and win, win, win. If they can’t win a hockey game, how will they compete against the Chinese?
_____ Underneath my perky exterior, I have unresolved anger issues and have always longed for an excuse to scream at other adults in my shrill voice.
_____ I feel a patriotic surge of adrenaline when a hockey puck spins through the air like a nucular missile heading for Iran.
_____ I am part of the great middle class, and if my child can get a free ride to college on a scholarship, I don’t care about a few ACL tears along the way.
_____ I think abortion is murder, but I have no problem telling my child to get out there and kill the other team.
_____ I have attended a church where we spoke in tongues, and speaking in tongues is sort of what hockey moms sound like when their team is losing so I will have a leg up.
_____ I can utter four consecutive incomprehensible sentences. Hockey moms do this all the time.
_____ I once competed in a beauty competition. Hockey moms like to compare their beauty pageant experiences so I will fit right in.
_____ I own at least one gun, and I love to shoot it. I won’t flinch when a hockey puck comes flying in my direction, although I might whip out my six shooter and nail it in midair.
_____ I have nothing against someone conceiving a child outside of wedlock as long as they don’t abort it. (Gay parents, you have a real edge here.)
_____ I respect gay people’s right to make choices, but I don’t think gays should get married and become hockey moms. (Ooops! This one might pose a problem for gay parents.)
_____ I love to discuss how much I hate the government when it gets in my way. This will help me when the other team coaches get in our team’s way.
_____ I do not believe that global warming is caused by humans, but we better do something about it before it impacts the sport of ice hockey.
© 2008 by Carrie Smith. All rights reserved.
Every year, the multicultural committees of countless schools around our nation toil September through April to plan, promote, and execute a successful celebration of ethnic pride and diversity. Indian parents bake puri. Hispanic parents make rice and beans. Japanese parents prepare California rolls. Italian parents serve pasta. African American parents fry chicken. And the Anglo parents eat well for once.
Sadly, the formula is getting a little tired. So here’s a modest gay parent’s proposal to spice up the celebration. This year, convince your school to hold a “No Culture Left Behind” multi-culti extravaganza presided over by families of African, Indian, Hispanic, Asian, Euro trash and–new this year—gay parents.
Let the Irish step dance, the Argentines tango, and the African Americans sing the blues while the gay parents lovingly portray the rich cultural heritage of the closet and those who march out of it.
The closet has been such a priceless incubator and proud legacy. Through the years in this wonderfully free democracy we call the United States, gay people have developed our secret language, best exemplified by our clever use of reverse pronouns to convince people we were really straight and shouldn’t be beaten within an inch of our lives. And how about those charming little phrases we coined from our all-time favorite gay movie Wizard of Oz, like “Friends of Dorothy”? These loving expressions allowed us to name names in our secret code and not be fired from our jobs. And the most powerful of all gifts from the closet—gay people moved in droves to find safety in numbers in big cities like New York and San Francisco before the family found out and threw us out anyway.
But there is so much more to gay culture. On June 28, 1969, the most beautiful women in our community began a movement that may eventually border up the closet for good. Our very own New York City drag queens in their highest heels, frilliest dresses and Hollywood makeup barricaded the doors of the Stonewall Inn and fought back the police, who had made great sport of raiding bars and reeling us into jail. From then on, gay people had to choose where they should position themselves relative to the closet.
So, just as we remember the horrors of slavery and the joys of the Black experience, we believe this inclusive school fete should celebrate everyone in the proximity of the closet—the ones who are out, still sort of in, hiding behind the door, concealed among the dresses and suits, and of course the few crumpled into a corner with the dust balls and abandoned shoes, whimpering “What’ll I do now? What’ll I do now?”
Here’s what you should do at this new and improved multi-culti festival: Get some big corrugated cardboard appliance boxes and packing tape, and construct a makeshift closet for all the school parents and children. When you walk in, you must pretend not to be gay. No exaggerated mannerisms allowed and no uttering the word fabulous or mentioning a gay icon like Barbra, Cher, Melissa, Rosie or Ellen. When you walk out, be as gay as you want—see what it’s like to release your inner gayness in the comfort of all this support. Later on, we won’t ask and we won’t tell.
You’ll also want to set up a food booth so your school’s many straight parents can savor the extraordinary foods of gay oppression. There is no gayer (or more kid-pleasing) food than “pigs in a blanket.” Have your children create colorful posters noting that the “blanket” is the closet we hide in and the “pig” our succulent inner spirit alive with flavor. And no lesbian celebration should be without tofu burgers, the ultimate imposter food. We lesbians may step out in bright lipstick, high heels and hooker outfits that pass for corporate attire these days, but it’s all just pretend. We’re still the same old folkie, lefty lesbians inside.
Music and dance have a way of bringing us all together. Who hasn’t been charmed by ethnic belly dancing, tango and classical Indian dance forms? But what about disco? Grab a ladder, put up the silver disco ball, play YMCA from the Village People, and watch everyone’s spirits soar. Next up, Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive—a teachable moment for all of us, gay or straight, who have suffered through 30 years of vicious, mindless right-wing Republican attacks and bad government and still managed to summon the inner strength to go on. Finish off the dancing with a song of today, like Katy Perry’s I Kissed a Girl and watch all the ten-year-olds sing along. Let’s face it; everyone wants to kiss a girl at least one.
No multicultural celebration is complete without crafts. Plan a gay crafts table where children can make their own pink triangle button, the symbol used to separate homosexuals from all the others marked for extermination in German concentration camps. On second thought, maybe that’s too much of a downer. So supply some markers and let them color the festive symbol of ethnic and social diversity—the rainbow. Let every parent understand once and for all that our fine country is going multi-culti by 2050 and we’d all better be ready for it.
So join your school’s multicultural committee right now and start planning your school’s best festival ever. You’ll bond as never before with the straight parents as they walk in and out of the closet with you. Pin a rainbow flag on their shirts. Help them experience their inner gayness. Come on, everyone has a little.
© 2008 by Carrie Smith. All rights reserved.
As gay parents, we educate our straight neighbors on a daily basis. Our kids need to be teachers too – and this is considered a good thing by some or a bad thing by others.
Carrie Smith alerts us to the inevitable moment, “when you least expect it, a stranger will pat your child’s head and say, ‘Your mom and dad must be so proud of you!’. Carrie warns that – unless you’ve prepared your child – she won’t know what to say.
This seasoned mom offers gay parent/child coaching tips for encounters like this, including:
- Review the many types of family structures found around the world and the many avenues to parenthood
- Model for your child how to respectfully correct a less-evolved adult: “Actually, I don’t have a mom and dad, Mrs. Smith. I have two dads—Daddy Ed and Daddy Gordon. Would you like me to introduce you to them?”
Along with the hilarious:
- …be prepared for him or her to enlighten every less-evolved adult they encounter at the top of their lungs: “I have a donor – not a dad. And he got 1584 on his SATs! What did you get on your SATs?”
Read all of Carrie’s blog, and become more evolved.