Where do gays come from? Diversity Fair Take 2

I selected this post to be featured on my blog’s page at www.lesbianblogs.org.

We manned the Gay Table again at Asher’s school’s Diversity Fair 2011. And by we I mean mostly Gabriella because I had gathered all the necessities for the day and because she wasn’t manning the Italy Table this year. And by manning I mean womanning. Personning? Once again, the royal we were sucked into representing gay parents at Asher’s school because the organizer is our friend and a gay parent and we don’t really do much volunteering otherwise. But I’ll be honest. I am conflicted about the need and appropriateness of an LGBTQ table at the Diversity Fair.

The fair is supposed to be a place to educate and celebrate the different colors, religions and backgrounds of the families at our school. Table-manners (and by table manners, I’m not referring to etiquette but to the people manning the tables and by manning I mean see above re: manning) are supposed to provide a craft, a food, giveaways and literature that best represent their country or culture. Last year, I was at the Gay Table while Gabriella sat behind the Italy table. She decorated her table with the Italian flag and images of Italy. She displayed books and handed out pizza and kids could learn Italian words with activity sheets and coloring books. She had it easy.

Throughout the fair, tables showcased the diversity at our school. There were empanadas at the Argentina table and yellow lentils at Ethiopia. There were maps and historical information at Sri Lanka and a multi-media presentation about Spain…at the Spanish table. There were maps at the Turkey table and cheap, toxic, plastic toys at the China Table. Oh wait. We had the cheap, toxic toys from China. Anyway, my point is that it is easy and fun to represent countries of origin at the Diversity Fair.

But where do gays come from? Sometimes I prefer they come from behind, but I didn’t think people would get it if we turned the table around to face the back of the room. I decided not to over think it. I found everything I could with rainbows on it and called it a day. We placed a rainbow sticker on each child’s Diversity Passport, gave out rainbow lollipops and rainbow colored peace-sign necklaces. Everyone spent a few minutes making a scratch magic bookmark with rainbow colors underneath the black coating and getting rainbow colored tattoos. We displayed books like we did last year; And Tango Makes 3, King and King and The Family Book. I had glued photos of gay families on a big, tri-fold display board-many of them recognizable celebrities like Wanda Sykes, Clay Aiken, Sara Gilbert and Cat Cora. The text on the board read “Celebrate Diversity”, but nothing actually read “gay”.

What we didn’t do is say, “Welcome to the gay table, children! Our families are different because our sexual partners are the same gender as we are. Have a lollipop. We love sucking. We gays also really like body art, so we’re starting you off early with these temporary tattoos. If you want a permanent tattoo when you’re older, it’s probably because you’re gay. Lesbians tend to be political activists, and gay men love to accessorize, so here is a peace-sign necklace for you. Don’t forget to make a bookmark because we believe that the more read about inequality in our country, the more likely you’ll be to support equal rights for lesbian, gay, transgendered and queer people. Have a gay day!”

There are those of us gays who would have happily and proudly said to the 6 year olds visiting our table, “This is the gay table, boys and girls because we are gay.” But we’re just not those people. We did tell them that we represented families with 2 moms or 2 dads but then felt like we had to include single parents because some gays are parenting on their own. I doubt any child left the fair understanding exactly what our rainbow-infested table was celebrating.

Our message was unclear and confusing because we only made references to being gay as opposed to naming ourselves out loud--and proud. And because we had a serious PR issue, the school’s newsletter and our local Patch site neglected to show one photo or acknowledge our table at all even though every other table got a mention.

So, what’s the answer? Better messaging? Pass the torch to gay parents who believe it’s appropriate to teach children about gays? Ix-nay on the ay-gays all together? Rebrand the gay table as The Diversity-in-General Table and represent everyone? I don’t know, but I personally won’t be ordering that much crap from the Oriental Trading Company again unless every child walks out of there knowing they got their goodies from gays.

Ten years

Ten years ago today. 3 March, 2001. London.

Before we relocated to London from Chicago, we decided to get engaged stateside and plan our wedding once we landed in London. Sounds so unromantic, I realize, that we decided to get engaged. There was no elaborate surprise dinner or bended knees. Well someone may have been on bended knees after we decided to get engaged, but that’s a story for different flavour of blog.

So, we decided to get engaged because we wanted to celebrate our relationship and celebrate the amazing people in our lives. We exchanged the engagement rings we bought together and heartfelt words of love at a restaurant in East Lakeview – a.k.a. Boystown. The gay waiters of Boystown (so redundant) gathered around our table, ogled our sparkling rocks and wished us the very best while they poured the champagne.

Once in London, we had no idea where to even begin in this new country and without a soul to help us. As many Americans do, we hired wedding planners. I’m going out on a non-researched limb and say that wedding planners were not as common in the UK as they were in the US. I’m not sure that they are now either, but I definitely recall raised eyebrows and baffled expressions when I mentioned to British friends that we had enlisted the help of wedding planners. My guess is that it seemed an over the top kind of thing that only royalty or celebrities might have like they have “people” or “staff”. Well, we needed our own people. “What are two Jewish lesbians from a foreign land supposed to do, anyway?” I’d ask. “Indeed,” was the default reply.

But oh what a wedding it was! It’s not just that our guests cleaned up real nice or that the ceremony was meaningful or that the food was actually delicious or that Mama Josie and her band got everyone on the dance floor. There was so much happiness. I’m telling you there was an energy that connected everyone and loved us all up - inside and out. I don’t care how trippy or wacked out that sounds. It’s the truth.

Ok, it’s possible that I’m transferring a bit. It’s conceivable that I had enough happy for everyone. How could I not be outrageously happy? I married the woman who has always brought out the very best in me and the woman who STILL laughs at all my jokes. That would be the same woman, by the way, and not two different women. Not that there’s anything wrong with plural marriage, but it was expensive enough to buy two diamond rings and two dresses! I wore Vera Wang, my friends.

I don’t know what to tell you about the secret to a successful relationship. All I can say is that after seventeen years together (I know what you're thinking. I was just a child!), I am still grateful every day for Gabriella. Even on those off days – no, especially on those off days - I know I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.

Happy Anniversary, Gabriella. So in love with you am I.

All hail Auntie Rachel

I had never taken the boys on a trip by myself. And being my son’s mother, new experiences for which I have no reference scare the bejeezus out of me. When I weighed my options, however, I decided that taking the boys out of town no matter how high the anxiety associated with such a trip would be less stressful than staying home Presidents Week when our schools are closed. And what of Presidents Week, anyway? Wouldn’t our forefathers have wanted our children to be in school? I say stop transferring your slacking ways onto the presidents. Call it February Break or Sanitize the Classroom Week, but don't pretend our presidents had anything to do with it.

I invited myself to my sister Rachel’s house in Boston for 5 days. Gabriella didn’t think I should go for the whole week. She’d miss us, she told me. Boo hoo. So, I said to Gabriella, I said, “Gabriella, you’re working all hours at your job – a job for which we are all grateful after a year of unemployment. But, I’m on my own for the entirety of the day with the boys. If I can get out of here, I will. Frankly, you have no vote. We’ll train it up on a Wednesday, and you drive on up on the Friday for the weekend.” She considered the situation and surrendered to my logic. I just had to make it on my own with them until Friday afternoon. Could I do it?

The train ride was a doddle thanks to good ol’ fashioned electronics. What is it you said? Electronics are not old-fashioned? Oh yeah?!? Well why don’t you take my boys on a 5 hour train ride with a deck of cards and an art caddy and see how far you get before the boys melt down and you go through your travel allotment of Xanax. Yeah, I brought travel Connect Four, but after 3 games I presented Asher with the new DSi games I got him for the trip, and he was happy from that moment forward. Pretty sneaky, Sis. (That’s a Connect Four advertisement reference in case you are closer to my children’s ages than to mine.)

There was one bathroom break. The three of us walked carefully in between the moving cars. Levi courageously led the way. Asher was not too pleased about our death-defying trip traversing moving train cars. I wasn’t completely confident that the cars wouldn’t unhitch (or whatever cars do) while we were about to step from one to the other and we’d have to hurl ourselves to the next car before falling onto the tracks meeting a quick but messy end. Thankfully, Levi was brave enough for all of us. Levi was also very excited to wee in the train toilet. Asher refused. Dropping trou on a moving train just didn’t appeal.

Speaking of Auntie Rachel, it is now that time in the blog when I publically thank and praise Auntie Rachel. I am, in fact, not the hero of this story though I did manage to get my boys from one place to the next. Nor is Levi the hero for becoming a valiant guide on a moving train. No, Auntie Rachel knew that I was on my own with my oft high-maintenance children, and we would be arriving in cold and snowy Boston desperately seeking entertainment. Auntie Rachel delivered. The itinerary was comprehensive but flexible, and Auntie Rachel knew just what the boys would like to do.

There were many activities and outings which I will not detail here. Suffice it to say that Auntie Rachel kept us happy. I did manage to capture one activity on film. Behold the family craft!







The other ancillary heroes in this tale are cousins Joshua and Evan who managed to keep Asher and Levi occupied in between activities (for a fee). That’s right. Rachel and I PAID Joshua and Evan to keep my kids busy. Judge not lest ye have to spend time with my kids! Believe me. It’s not so easy. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Money well spent is all I have to say.

Thank you Kos Family for a successful Presidents Week having absolutely nothing to do with presidents but everything to do with the pursuit of happiness!

And just what ARE the rules for The Quiet Game?