Blogging for LGBT Families Day – My Own Post

I thought the most appropriate post for me to write in honor of Blogging for LGBT Families Day would be about my reasons for organizing this event. In the event announcement, I said I wanted to raise awareness of LGBT families, to show how current prejudices and laws impact us, and to make people more comfortable interacting with and discussing LGBT families.

That’s a mouthful. It sums up, however, as this: I want us to share our stories. With each other. With the world. We are stronger as a community than as individuals, yet it is our individual stories that can put human faces on abstract concepts like “gay rights” or the infamous “homosexual agenda.”

I purposely didn’t define this event to be specific to lesbian moms, or even LGBT parents. The concept of “family” is so varied that I wanted people to define it for themselves. I’m happy to see contributors are doing so. (My own blog focuses on lesbian moms because that’s the only perspective from which I feel I can write with authority.)

There’s always the risk of restriction in an event like this. If today is Blogging for LGBT Families Day, what happens the other 364? Witness the many corporations that happily put up posters for Black History Month, Women’s History Month, or the like, and yet have policies and/or environments that remain intolerant. I thought the benefits outweighed the risk, however, since there are already so many people blogging about LGBT families. We’re not going to stop tomorrow.

I want people to get out of this event whatever they choose. Some may make contact with other LGBT families. Others may gain insight into the diversity within and beyond the LGBT community, and think differently about issues of race, disability, social class, and religion. Some may even read these posts who would not otherwise read LGBT-family blogs, and discover themselves rethinking prejudices and political positions.

My underlying reason for organizing this event, though? My son. He’s almost three and doesn’t yet know his family is “different.” He doesn’t know prejudice, or why the two women who together created and care for him can’t marry. It’s unrealistic in 2006 to imagine he’ll never have to learn this. I’m going to do my best, however, to make sure he doesn’t need to know it for long. As a mother, I can do no less.