Two Gay Dads, No Mom at Home
By Bill Koch
"Can you schedule the appointment, or should I wait to talk to Mom?"
"Your wife is sure lucky that you are willing to do the shopping."
"Sir, have you called your wife?"
All of these comments were made by people who had no idea that our son has two dads (or more accurately, a Dad and a Papa). And, in each case, I must admit I didn't stand up for myself as the proud member of a two-dad family. But I realize this is something that has to change. Right now, I have the luxury of toting around a handsome 1-year-old whose response to most things is an incurable giggle. Pretty soon, however, if I don't speak up, my son, Frankie, will be able to tell the other person that he has two dads at home with nary a mom to be found.
The first statement -- "Can you schedule the appointment, or should I wait to talk to Mom?" -- should definitely have gotten a rebuttal from me. This was a call from a medical clinic trying to schedule an appointment for my son. How silly was it to think that even a straight guy couldn't manage to make an appointment, or worse yet, couldn't be distracted from a monster truck rally on TV to care?
The second one -- "Sir, have you called your wife?" -- was different. A security guard yelled this to me as I rushed past him at my son's day care. Frankie had just choked on some cereal and was being rushed to the hospital. As I raced along the stretcher being pushed by a doctor and an EMT, all I could think to yell was, "I'll call her later." This obviously wasn't the time for a coffee-klatch discussion about the virtues of nontraditional parenting.
But it was the third statement -- "Your wife is sure lucky that you are willing to do the shopping" -- with which I have the most trouble. It was uttered by an elderly woman who was looking at my adorable son as we bagged our groceries. Their eye contact and smiles told a story of mutual admiration. After she turned to me and gave me that nice compliment, I wondered how much it would deflate her day if I told her that my partner and I had eschewed the trappings of a traditional family and, instead, pursued our biological inheritance of a same-sex orientation. In other words, there was no wife, only another man at home who is better versed in show tunes than me.
Maybe it wouldn't have deflated her at all. Maybe she has a gay son. Maybe her second husband was gay. Maybe she was raised by two lesbians in a Gertrude Stein-inspired commune on the plains of Nebraska. All are unlikely, but possible, scenarios. Nonetheless, I chose to utter a distinctly sheepish straight-guy "yeah" to her compliment.
How much would it have changed her world if I had told her the truth? She may have told a friend at her folk-dancing club that night about the gay dad she met at the store. It could have started a conversation about someone else's lesbian daughter who had just adopted a child from Guatemala. And someone else could have piped in that Will and Grace was a really funny show, and it didn't bother her at all that both of those boys were gay.
In a few days, I am embarking on a trip with Frankie to visit my parents, without Frankie's Papa. I am already trying to figure out how I am going to field all the where-is-Mom questions that will invariably start when we leave and not end until my partner takes us back into his arms at the Minneapolis airport.
Even more interesting will be the opportunity to gauge my parents' reaction when I don't lie or fudge on the subject when their friends ask about Frankie's mom. As much as I know my Mom and Dad love Frankie and my partner, I also know that my being there alone with Frankie will allow them to entertain the notion in front of their friends that I have a lovely wife at home. I will have to be strong and tell them that I am a proud Dad raising Frankie with an equally proud Papa.
Maybe after this trip, I will have a whole new set of interesting comments from people. And maybe I won't have deflated someone but, rather, informed them that there are nice nontraditional families out there. I think it is unfair to continuously underestimate the world's acceptance of good gay and lesbian families. Being good parents and decent people goes a long way toward inching open the door of acceptance in society at large, but only if I can consistently summon the courage to tell the trut