I admit, I am nothing special

I have made an important decision. I intend to teach my children that I am nothing special. Of course, I shall encourage them to think that I am superwoman, and the impossible standard to which all their future relationships will fail to measure up. But I shall also tell them that the fact that I am gay is absolutely nothing special.

On occasions, usually at work-related functions, I twist my words into atrocious convoluted sentences so that I can say ‘partner’ rather than ‘wife’, and avoid the pronoun. I justify my actions by reasoning that I don’t need to announce my sexuality. But I know that by actively changing my language I am making an issue of being gay myself, thereby conveniently removing the need for anyone else to do so. I do it because I don’t want to stand out as unusual (at least, not in those circumstances).

I hope that the boys never feel the need to choose their language with such care, but instead can talk openly about their upbringing. The law of averages says that at some point, possibly in only a few years, they will start to experience various differing attitudes towards having two mummies. And the number of countries where homosexuality is still illegal suggests that at times those attitudes will be hostile.

 But over the last week or so, as I have watched the pictures emerge on Facebook of Californian gay couples clasping their marriage certificates, my optimism has grown. As gay marriage creeps closer in this country (in your face, bizarre lone protester outside Parliament), it grows further. With each gay couple given the opportunity to live their life equally to others (get married, or don’t; have kids, or don’t) I, as part of a gay couple with kids, become a little less unusual. Which make me think or hope that maybe by the time my children are affected by such matters, the fact that I am gay will be so ordinary that they can say whatever they want. Two mummies? Yeah, nothing special.

2 thoughts on “I admit, I am nothing special

  1. Vee

    Loving this blog Louise. I feel it my duty to warn you that the questions all start much sooner than you expect! I give the boys less than 2 years before they and possibly their buddies start asking lots of questions… T was 3 when he started asking me about one of his little nursery friends having 2 daddies and why he didn’t have a mummy. In fact he has become notorious at nursery for being so quizzical. What is wonderful is that everything is taken in his stride and the answers given are all just accepted by him and his friends.


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