Family Voices XIII

Here’s this week’s post in my Family Voices series. COLAGE (Children of Lesbians and Gays Everywhere) member Sara tells us about her blended family, the influence of Ellen, and why it’s important for children of LGBT parents to remember that it’s okay not to be perfect. She also relates one of the best coming out stories I’ve heard in a while. . . .

Tell us a little about the family in which you grew up. Who was in it? Anything particular you’d like to share about yourselves?

My name is Sara Elizabeth Berger, otherwise known as Pumpkin, Mean Bean, and Sugar-Booger by my moms and dad. Yeah, that’s right . . . moms . . . PLURAL. Although for those who are reading, this is probably not a hard concept to grasp for obvious reasons. However, growing up in a small conservative town in North Dakota, I didn’t have what one might call an “easy” time explaining this to people. Then again, I’ll admit my family is just a tad bit complex. I grew up in two houses, my moms’ and my dad’s, with a plethora of siblings and more than my fair share of furry critters. My biological mom, Vickie, and her partner, Sherri, blended a family together after they both found themselves in the midst of divorce. My mom, who had been previously married before meeting my dad, brought Andy (my older half brother) and myself to Sherri’s old four-floor home in northern Mandan when she and my dad divorced; I was only six months old at the time. Sherri had been living in the old house for a few months with her three kids, Steven, Sara Lynn, and Joy after getting a divorce with her husband (which ironically enough happened to be my dad’s best friend). Mom and Sherri were not out at the time, neither to the community (due to custody reasons) or even to themselves; they struggled years before they were able to integrate their sexual “orientation” into their religious views. However, because I was so young, none of the “behind the scenes” struggles ever entered into my mind. As I grew up, I never questioned the fact that I had two houses and my friends didn’t, or that I had two moms and a dad when my friends only had one of each; in fact, I thought it was pretty dang cool to have two of just about everything.

As mentioned before, I had two of each sibling, too, all of whom were many years older than me. Stephen, who was 12 at the time of our “family fusing”, and Andy, who was eight years my senior, I considered from the beginning to be my brothers. Sara Lynn and Joy, 10 and eight years older than me respectively, were without a doubt my sisters. When I think about it now, however, I’m almost positive they didn’t see our situation in the same light as I did. Because they were so much older than me at the time, and didn’t literally “grow into” our queer family like I did, they probably viewed me more as the cute little girl they babysat once a week or the annoying “tweeny-bopper” who spied on them when their high school girlfriends and boyfriends came over. With the exception of my biological half brother who I had always been close to, I think it wasn’t until I was in high school when Sherri’s kids had “grown-up” lives of their own did they really start to consider me a sibling, an aunt to their own children, and someone they could call from states away to talk about problems. I think it was also the fact that I had grown up into the situation that allowed me to become the passionate queer activist that I am—I really got to know my moms (collectively) and their LGBTQ friends more than my siblings, and in the end, it has honestly made all the difference.

What has been the most challenging thing you’ve faced as the child of (an) LGBT parent(s)? How did you handle it?

Although I’ve faced plenty of challenges during my life as a “queerspawn” thus far, especially in relation to school classmates and teachers, by far the hardest challenge I’ve had to overcome was one between my dad and me. Dad and I have always had a good and fun relationship, but we have never been what I would call “close”. As my moms and I became more and more out, dad became more and more uncomfortable, concerned that I was being brainwashed and manipulated into being a spokesperson and political tool for my moms’ agendas. He never understood that all of my advocacy was my decision and my own doing. The last straw came when I had been featured in the main front page article of the town’s tribune, my sixteen-year old smiling face plastered dead center, my hands holding a “Decline to Sign the ND Marriage Amendment” poster for all to see. I was thrilled when I saw it, knowing that a lot of people were going to see and read what I was fighting for.

However, dad was everything but thrilled. As word began to circulate, he became embarrassed and beyond furious, and that night, he gave me a call. He literally screamed, “Sara, you’re so confused right now. You don’t have two moms, you have one! You do not love Sherri because she is not real family. You’re embarrassing your family, so cut this out! Don’t let them brainwash you! Think of me, your only other parent. Think of God, Sara!” I was so shocked, but not entirely speechless just yet. Without thinking, and without hesitation, I said, “No, dad, you’re the one who is confused. Sherri is just as much of a parent as you and mom have been to me—she provides for me and takes care of me. She loves me just as much as you. And how dare you tell me who I can or cannot love, dad.” He repeated that I was confused and that he wanted to pick me up that instant, and I told him to “shut up”, and I hung up the phone, sobbing uncontrollably. He tried calling back several times that night, but after Sherri finally answered, telling him that he was severing his relationship with me by not listening to me, he stopped calling. It’s kind of like the saying that says “it takes a great deal of courage to stand up against one’s enemies, but even more courage to stand up to the people that you love”. And that is sooooo true! I was so upset because one, dad had never ever talked to me like that before—never called me confused or even yelled at me.

Second, I was appalled and hurt that he was trying to make me choose between three people that I loved and treated equally. It was the worst feeling in the world having to verbally choose something like that. And it stayed this way for three weeks because we stopped talking—no phone calls, e-mails, or weekly visits. I felt guilty and emotionally exhausted, especially when he finally called to tell me that he had just found out he had stage four colon cancer. But you know, life really works in mysterious ways. We were all devastated knowing that he had cancer, but even through such dark times, light shines through: my dad got a wake-up call. After the operation to get the softball-sized tumor removed, dad invited both my moms and I into the hospital room. They gave him a card and he gave them one, telling them to read it out loud. In it read, “I’ve decided to bury the hatchet on all of this ‘gay’ business. Life is too short, and what really matters is that the three of us raised an amazing young woman together.” The best part about the whole visit was that when we left, he gave both mom and Sherri a hug, which was the first time I had seen him hug either of them in my whole life.

What, if anything, did your parent(s) do to help you understand their sexual orientation or gender identity, or to help you deal with any issues this raised at school or elsewhere? Any resources (groups, books, movies, Web sites, etc.) you found particularly helpful? Anything you wish your parents had done differently in terms of the above?

Because I completely grew up within a queer family, when mom and Sherri came out to me in 4th grade, I really was not at all surprised, even though I hadn’t yet been exposed to/understood that stigma and hatred that came with such a label as “lesbian”. In fact, I had an incident when I was only six years old that gave them the opportunity to tell me about their sexuality. We were watching the Ellen Degeneres sitcom, the episode where Ellen’s character comes out in the airport terminal. As a kid, I loved watching the show (though I understood zero percent of the humor), and when she said into the microphone that she was gay, a little mini lightbulb went on in my little mini kindergarten head. Though I had no clue as to what “gay” meant, I understood the concept of it being between, for example, two women. I turned my head, remembering now how uncomfortable my moms looked on the couch during the scene, and innocently asked, “Mom, are you gay?” Sherri started choking on her Pepsi, and my Mom gawked at me, which I apparently found funny because I remember laughing at this. Collecting herself, mom calmly replied, “Well, sugar, what if I was?” That confused me, and I shook my head, dismissing what was at the time a non-issue for me. However, when they did finally come out to me, my moms did provide me full access to their, at the time, “secret LGBTQ library” in the basement, and I made good use of it. I read books that dismantled the biblical “clobber passages”, and I read and re-red a book called “Brain Sex” which explained numerous theories of prenatal sexuality formation (it was also this book that started my love of and interest in the brain, inevitably leading me to now major in Cognitive and Behavioral Neuroscience).

However, I think what most helped me understand their identity was that fact that both before and after they “came out”, they never hid their affection from any of the kids when in the house. Kisses and hugs were always around; the words to explain them were the only thing missing. In fact, if I were to have them change anything about the ways in which they helped me deal with issues or understand concepts would be that I wish they would have come out to me sooner as a child.

How does having an LGBT parent affect you in your adult life? Or how has the experience of having an LGBT parent shifted in adulthood? What are the ways that having an LGBT parent has made you into who you are today?

I think having lesbian moms has been the biggest gift I could have ever asked for in life. I mean that. I always tell people that I had the privilege of growing up in a conservative place with a liberal, queer family because all of the struggles and hard times (as well as minor victories) made me who I am today. I think that because I understand a little more of what it’s like to be undermined, ignored, hated, feared, and misunderstood, that I in turn have more compassion for those of different racial, religious, and socioeconomic backgrounds (although I will never compare my struggle to theirs’) whose experiences are at times full of these things as well. My moms have taught me to look at people with wonder, not judgment, and they taught me to believe in myself even when no one else does, which is probably why I have such high self-expectations and self-esteem.

However, my reflection on my experiences as a queerspawn has definitely changed as I’ve gotten older; I guess I’m a less naïve, more critical, and a lot more educated when it comes to queer issues now. Having been exposed to the literature and theory on queer subjectivity in college (I’m minoring in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies), I tend to look at my life differently than before, as one that is unique, nonbinary, and intersected with other social aspects. Although I’m still an advocate, I am for different reasons now—more for myself than my moms, and more for other children than myself.

What advice would you most like to pass on to other children of LGBT parents? To the parents themselves?

As for advice I’d pass on to other children who have parents of a different (or undefined) sexual orientation/gender identity, I’d say, above all things, be truthful with yourself and others. What I mean by this is that all too often, many queerspawn tend to cover up family problems (like arguments or separations) or strive to be the perfect student or child (as in over-achieving in school or pretending to be happy when they’re not) in order to both protect their parents/family, as well as prove to society that their family is just like everyone else. Well, in my opinion, doing such things only inevitably backfires at a larger level. When we don’t tell what really goes on in our families, we make them out to be something that they’re not. In reality, disagreements happen in all families. In reality, queer families aren’t and shouldn’t have to be perfect—there is abuse and sadness and arguments in our families, too. In addition, I don’t think that we should have to “prove to be just like any other family” because the truth of the matter is, our families are different, from each other and “normal” families; we don’t have to be the same, and by trying to fit into heteronormative ideals of what constitutes a family, we only strengthen heteronormativity AND in turn, we strengthen homophobia. So, be open and honest about everything, especially with your parents. In the end, we have nothing to hide.

Why did you choose to become involved with COLAGE?

I chose to become involved with COLAGE because I think it’s a great resource and support group for children growing up in queer families. I wish I would have known about it sooner so that I could have used it as something to turn to in times of trial when I was younger and in high school.

How else, if at all, are you involved in your community or in LGBT activism/politics?

At age 14, I testified before the state legislature on a safe schools bill that would add sexual orientation to the list of specific things, such as race, gender, and religion, protected in school from harassment. At age 16, I attended a press conference and rally with a campaign called Decline to Sign, which was trying to stop the North Dakota Marriage Amendment from being put on the voting ballot. My moms and I created Bismarck’s first Gay Pride, which has been going on strong since I was a junior in high school; I was involved in the planning and decoration of it, as well as in the meetings for the sponsoring organization, Dakota Out Right. I’ve participated in COLAGE’s workshops at the Minnesota Rainbow Families conference, and I’ve also contributed to Family Voices and their Just for Us publication. I’ve served on the scholarship committee for PFUND, and I’m an active member in PFLAG, touring colleges and high schools with/for PFLAG to talk about my experiences as a queerspawn. I am also a member of Queer Union at Macalester College (2nd consecutive year), and I lead panel discussions about queer family dynamics and intersectionalities during Coming Out Week. Currently, I’m on the Women, Gender, and Sexuality steering committee at school, and I’m planning on writing for Rainbow Rumpus, an online magazine made for queerspawn in different stages of their lives. This, to me, is only the beginning. The best is yet to come!

Please share a favorite memory of being a COLAGEr or having an LGBT parent.

My favorite memory that I have about being a queerspawn is when I actually came out to my moms. The night that they told me they were lesbians, they took me out for TCBY and then up to our favorite hilltop overlooking the river. Because the whole event seemed like such a big deal to me, I had the notion that everyone, gay or straight, was supposed to “come out” to their families. In 6th grade, I developed my first crush on a boy, and excited, I wanted to “come out” that I wasn’t a lesbian. So, on a Friday night, I begged mom and Sherri to take me to TCBY after supper. They didn’t really want to go all the way to Bismarck just to get a treat, but after a bit of prodding, they complied, and before I knew it, we were sitting at a TCBY table, eating white chocolate mousse and watching cars go by. When I finished mine, I quickly threw the cup away, and returned, trying to collect my 12-year-old self. “Um, guys,” I began, “I wanted to come here because I have something to tell you.” They both looked at me, confusion and concern diffusing into their expressions. “I’m not gay.” They frowned, looked at each other, and my mom said, “What?” Getting annoyed, I said a little too loudly, “I’m not gay, I’m not a lesbian . . . I like boys.” Some people from the booth over looked at me, laughing. Mom and Sherri stopped, pausing to think, and amused with my misunderstood yet heartwarming confession, began to laugh. A LOT. Pretty soon, the three of us were bent over, my moms’ frozen yogurt falling to the floor. Even though we looked like idiots, it is by far the best memory that I think only a queerspawn could have.