Article by Abigail Garner

“My mom is gay,” were words I was barely able to decipher through the teenager’s sobs. “But you all are so carefree. I’ll never be so happy-happy about it.”

I had just finished moderating a panel of adult children with LGBT parents. When the event coordinators had asked us to talk about “what it was like,” what I heard was, “Help us quell our fears.” My orchestrated pep rally for queer parenting glossed over the challenges we had dealt with to get from point A (that first time a peer delivers a mean zinger about our family) to point Z (ready to stand up with a microphone in front of an audience of strangers). It was the uplifting program parents and prospective parents wanted, but for the handful of teen queerspawn in the audience, my well-intentioned strategy backfired.

I had let myself reshuffle my priorities, putting the emotional needs of the parents in the audience ahead of those of any queerspawn. Now, this sobbing teen was worried that if she wasn’t ready to go up front with the microphone right now, people would think there was something really wrong with her - and her lesbian mom would be blamed. Or worse, her mom and everyone else would think she was a big homophobe for not waving the proverbial rainbow flag.

I’m so glad that teen came to talk to me privately, because that’s what we both needed to have our conversation: privacy away from the politics and the presentation. COLAGE-only space is where we are released from pressure to be a certain way in front of media or parents - ours or anyone else’s. I am continually astonished by the parents, researchers and journalists who ask to “sit in” on COLAGE-only conversations so they can gain insight into our lives. When I tell them it is against the policy, they assure me they should be the exception; they will just sit quietly and not disrupt anything. They don’t comprehend how their mere presence hinders our freedom to be fully authentic with each other.

Attending one of our local COLAGE meetings was a twenty-something single-by-choice mother-to-be. “My mom’s a dyke and I’m a dyke,” she said in her introduction. Then she patted her very pregnant stomach saying, “I’m working on the third generation right here.”

Where else would it be comfortable for her to joke like that? It was one of the countless moments when I realized how much I cherish COLAGE-only space. I cherish the chance to cheer up a sobbing teen and laugh with a pregnant second-gen dyke and not feel like I have to look over my shoulder, preoccupied with what other people think of us.

There is something about the queerspawn identity that is uniquely ours. I have yet to figure out how to articulate exactly what it is, but the founding members of COLAGE summed it up with the name of the original steering committee: “Just For Us.”

Sometimes queerspawn join in the Pride celebrations. Sometimes queerspawn are involved in their school’s GSA. Sometimes they choose to be spokespeople for their families. But between those moments of being labeled “ally” or “advocate” or “activist” I want to re-group with the people who “get” me even when I’m not filling a role. That is what I find in the space we carve out for ourselves. That magical space that is just for us.

Originally published in Just For Us.

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For more about the impact of outside pressures on the lives of kids with LGBT parents, check out Abigail’s book, Families Like Mine, especially Chapter One, “Children of LGBT Parents: Growing Up Under Scrutiny.”

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