When I tell the story of growing up, it is the story of the mothers who raised me and the lesbian communities in which I was held and tended. When I tell these stories, I am speaking the roots of me. This history is constitutive of who I am.
But. When I sit around the table in the evening enjoying a meal and company, when I do my laundry and hang my clothes to dry, when I take long walks, when I heal from losing a friend; I am not reveling, cleaning, stretching, or hurting because my family is gay. I am living a life that is full because I am alive, and awake. These experiences are also the roots of me.
I believe that our gay families, just like all of our histories, impact the people that we are in daily, meaningful ways. However, I do not yet know how.
So this is where I begin.
I know this:
Being a person means carrying history that shapes who we are in the world.
My personal story is not enough. Our voices together are the answer of ‘how’.