Queers Raising Queers
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I’ve gotten a lot of flak about being a queer woman with two moms. Although it was never said out loud, my parents told me that people were okay with their queer identities, but the second they mentioned having kids, friends, and family had negative opinions. They believed that children who didn’t know any better could be brainwashed by “gay cooties.” The gays should just stick to themselves and not bring new people into the world.
This idea is interesting because I would argue I’m only queer because my parents are.
I grew up in Los Angeles in an affluent, white community. Private school, soccer practice, theatre lessons galore. Most of my social circles were filled with rich, white, straight people with a nuclear family. I looked the part, but no one else had a family like mine. Having two moms and one sister in the late 90s before same-sex marriage was legalized was quite unique. My moms had to legally adopt the child they did not carry at the time of their birth, or else they would not have legal rights as a parent (this is no longer true, thankfully). I only knew one other family like mine at the time. In my community, I was alone.
In Elementary School, I liked being special. I was proud that my story was unique. Everyone else had a mom and a dad, and I had two moms. As a kid, I would naively approach strangers, grinning like an idiot, saying, “Hi, I’m Morgan. I have two moms. Isn’t that awesome?” To which they would smile and nod politely.
In middle school, my excitement about my untraditional family turned to irritation. I loved having two moms, but the reaction from straight people bothered me. With the only same-sex parents on tv at the time being Modern Family and the Fosters, I got a lot of comments about representation. “Have you seen that same-sex couples are on tv?” “There are lesbian parents just like yours!” “Have you watched yet?” I assume the intent behind these comments was kind, that people wanted to relate to me. But my response back then is the same as it is now: “Every other tv show has straight parents. Do you watch those?" Straight people are the ones who should be watching, not me. I already live this life. It frustrates me that people have to constantly remind me that I can count on one hand the number of shows that represent my family.
In high school, I focused on myself and my sexuality. My moms were convinced I was a lesbian. I only had female friends and always had crushes on female actors. But I wasn’t certain. I came out as straight to my moms, subverting the narrative of queers coming out. I told them that they were wrong, that I liked men. However, that changed quickly the closer I got to other women in high school. I started to second-guess my “straightness.” After a date or two and almost kissing a girl, I realized that I was bisexual. I came out to my best friend, hands shaking, armpits sweating. But it went well; she accepted me. At the end of high school, I sat my moms down again and told them that my “straight” coming out was premature.
I wasn’t scared of being queer, despite how nervous I was to tell my friend. I was scared of the backlash I might receive. I didn’t tell anyone about my sexuality in high school because I was worried people would whisper, “You’re only queer because your parents are lesbians,” behind my back. Or, worse, say it to my face.
The scariest part was that they were right. I was queer because my parents were queer. My parents didn’t give me “gay cooties,” but they gave me the space to be myself. I knew, whatever I discovered about my identity, they would accept. In another world, maybe I would have always identified as straight. However, having two moms, I was open to the possibility. Love is love is love. Why would I not pursue love of any kind?
That’s what made my changing identity easier—going from lesbian to straight to bisexual to the identity I use now: pansexual. I knew my moms would support me, no matter what. It was the outside world that scared me.
The good thing is that I’m not alone anymore as a queer kid with queer parents. Our numbers are only growing. I’m hoping that one day, the outer world will accept us just like our queer families do.