5/8/10

Pride!

Last Saturday marked the 29th annual Northampton Pride parade (and I can't believe it took me a whole week to finish blogging about it!), and we were there--all six of us--to stand in the hot sun, clap, cheer, laugh, cry and feel proud. I've written about Pride before, and much of what I said then still stands true (I hate how consumerism has crept in and taken over), but this year I didn't feel as bothered by the fact that Pride (at least our local version) isn't especially political anymore. It felt like a celebration of love, and of life--of being true to oneself and of not being ashamed of that truth--and I interpreted the message to be much further-reaching than GLBTPQ issues alone. And it felt like a fun, crazy party for our whole community (queer and straight together), and I was so glad to be a part of it.

Wonder Woman

The past couple years have been rather hard on our collection of queer parent friends (which was unfortunately minimal to begin with), and nearly all of the legal marriages that were so very celebrated 5 years ago have now ended in divorce. Seeing these fragmented families at the parade on Saturday hurt my heart. I know that heterosexual marriages are dissolving at horrific rates as well, but for some reason it feels more devastating when I see it happening to families like mine. To the couples who fought alongside us for the right to marry, and who we sat beside in the fertility clinic (waiting for sperm to thaw and for babies to be conceived), and who gave their hearts to children not knowing if adoptions would go through, and who I never imagined would be fighting to keep their love alive, or worse: giving up on that fight all together.

So this year at Pride, I found myself getting teary about all of the usual things (the gay youth, the religious groups, the elderly lesbians), and also about the fact that sometimes love--this beautiful love that we celebrate so exuberantly at Pride each year--is really hard. Sometimes it's hard because you're 15 and you feel trapped between the amazing feeling of realizing that you're a girl who loves girls, and the terror of what that will mean for your future. Sometimes it's hard because loving the person you love somehow makes you a second-class citizen in the eyes of your government. And sometimes it's just hard, having nothing to do with sexual orientation or legal recognition or anything beyond the fact that hearts are fragile and life is complicated.

* * * * * *

The kids were at first enthusiastic Pride-goers, and then less so (as the sun melted us and the parade went on and on and on), but they stood and watched until the final contingent had marched by, and then demanded ice cream and fried dough. There was not much commentary on any of what they experienced (the throwing of the candy probably demanding the most discussion). But later, when we had our new (and fabulous!) friends (and neighbors!), Katrina and Rania, and their sons, Riley and Kale, over for some post-Pride pizza, the kids decided to put on their very own Pride parade. And surely this was my favorite part of the day: watching our sons march proudly down the sidewalk, bold and beautiful and free.

Zeb provided the music

Riley had the important job of throwing rice snacks to
the [imaginary] on-lookers, emulating the candy-throwers from earlier in the day.

Kale rode in the stroller, but was clearly no less proud than those on their feet.

When our friends had gone home for bed, I sat our kids down on the front steps and attempted to interview them about Pride. The dialogue was cut short when my camera card ran out of space, but I still love this clip (especially the part when Zeben refers to the drag queens as "fancy girls"):


double-click to watch full-size

Happy Pride!

16 comments:

GIsen said...

"nearly all of the legal marriages that were so very celebrated 5 years ago have now ended in divorce (divorce in the homes of young children simply makes me weep, regardless of circumstance). Seeing these fragmented families at the parade on Saturday hurt my heart"

I get really upset to the point of tears about this also. You would think that i was part of the divorce.It's just that we fight so hard to be openly a couple and legally wife/wife and don't seem to fight as hard to stay together.And i don't understand why especially when kids are involved:(

kat said...

i love how the boys sound exactly the same when they say "hi" at the beginning :) i can't wait to bring arden to her first out-of-utero pride this summer.

Unknown said...

I saw you at Dyke March! I was very excited. I've been reading your blog for a while and love it, so seeing you was like seeing celebrities!

Anna said...

I have to say, I think the anti-divorce tone in this post (and echoed even more strongly in the first comment) is weird and condescending.

First of all, when it comes to divorce happening in homes with young children, I believe it is LESS traumatic for divorce or separation to happen when kids are young, than when it happens when children are older or in adolescence or even adulthood. Kids are adaptable little humans with open minds: "So, my parents used to live in the same house, but now they live in two houses." Just as adults can put their kids through some shit getting divorced, so can they do it lovingly and with dignity for everyone involved. Of course, parents could put their kids through some shit by choosing to stay married too, no?

Lex, you say, "I know that heterosexual marriages are dissolving at horrific rates as well, but for some reason it feels more devastating when I see it happening to families like mine."

Do we really believe that married families (gay or straight) are inherently better than divorced families? I feel like we liberals and we lezzies do so much work convincing our communities, our children and ourselves "there are so many ways to make a family! A family can have two moms or just one dad or a mom and a grandma or any other combination!" But then I read a post like that and sort of feel like all that talk must be lip-service, that even in the LGBT community, even at pride, there is a hierarchy of families. There are those gay families that did it right and there are those gay families that failed.

Obviously, divorces and separations are painful in many ways. I just don't like the idea that divorce equals failure. I grew up in a loving family with divorced parents. They were extremely successful at getting divorced, and remain close friends to today, 25 years later. That's no failure. That's nothing to weep over. 30 years in a shitty marriage with someone you were better off just being friends with--THAT's something to weep over.

Also, Malea, you say, "It's just that we fight so hard to be openly a couple and legally wife/wife and don't seem to fight as hard to stay together.And i don't understand why especially when kids are involved."

Fighting for civil marriage rights, safe queer visibility, and protections for our families shouldn't be linked to a push to keep individual couples together. I, for one, believe that as long as straight people have access to the rights and legal protections of civil marriage, then gay people should too--but that doesn't mean I'm ever going to get married.

And maybe some parents understand their own families in a way that you cannot, that getting divorced is the right decision, "especially when kids are involved."

Obviously, we should support our friends and our community members as they struggle with troubles in their relationships, shifts in their families. But let's not be hypocrites and "celebrate" our own marriages by feeling superior to those whose romantic partnerships have ended. Let's not be like straight people that support gay marriage but secretly feel sorry for the little boy with lesbian moms in their kid's kindergarden class. And let's not forget what we are constantly telling other people, that a wonderful family can look many different ways.

Lex said...

ALS: Thank you so much for taking the time to write such a thoughtful comment.

I feel the need to clarify that I am not, by definition, anti-divorce. There are certainly situations in which I think divorce is the best possible choice, in which I think it could be seen very much as a positive outcome. My own parents just got divorced last year (after 38 years!), and while it has certainly been painful and messy and hard (and definitely not amicable), I do think that both of my parents will be better for it someday. Another close family member (with young children) is also in the process of separating from her husband, and again I think she is absolutely making the right decision. I believe that divorce is a choice, a personal choice, just like the choice to get married, or to have children (or to NOT have children), and I think the availability of choice is always a good thing.

So it was definitely not my intent for my post about Pride to come across as anti-divorce, categorically. I do think that sometimes people rush into divorce too hastily, that couples are quick to give up on marriage when it becomes difficult (as all marriages surely will from time to time). And I think that the early years of raising children are bound to be hard on a marriage, and that this is not discussed enough, that couples are ill-prepared for these challenges, and that some marriages end prematurely when perhaps they needn't have.

My point was simply that love--though beautiful and fun and joyful--can be really hard. The hard side of love isn't something you generally see reflected at a Pride march--where love is celebrated so wholly--but it was quite present for me this year: in the faces of so many of our beloved friends who are so clearly hurting right now. And perhaps because My Love and I have had our own struggles this spring, it was a realization that struck me more deeply than it might have otherwise.

Also: I know how resilient children are. I don't worry that the children of our divorced queer friends won't still have the most fabulous of childhoods, even as they are shuttled between their parents' houses. What troubles me about divorce in the homes of young children is that I see it as a reflection of the lack of support offered to new families (all families, but especially queer families, who are up against a lot, even when they live in queer-friendly communities), and I see divorce in these homes not as a failure of the individual couples, but of our society at large.

And I in no way feel superior to our newly-divorced queer friends for the fact that my queer marriage is still intact. It's lonely really, to be "the last queer couple standing" (which obviously is not the case, though it feels that way sometimes), and I do look at all of the heartache and drama that our friends have been through and think, "that is not what I want for MY family," but I don't see the "broken" queer families as any less legitimate or important or celebration-worthy. We don't love our friends any less, we don't feel like we need to replace them with married couples. We just feel sad sometimes.

- Lex

lex's li'll sis said...

I appreciate what you had to say, too, ALS. Also wanted to add that I think every relationship is purposeful, and especially divinely orchestrated when it results in a child. I believe that sometimes two people come together almost solely for the purpose of making babies (gay or straight or whatever) and that indeed, there is no "failure" in the relationship ceasing to be "fought for." Change always has the potential to be hard, but new beginnings for divorcees have limitless potential, which is a pretty happy thought.

Woolymama said...

I love this post. I wish there were more discussion of how loving and being loved is hard, it feels so strange to be getting to a point in my life when so many friends have dissolving relationships, it feels even more awful to watch it happen than I could have imagined. And as always, your boys are beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Sometimes I "feel sad sometimes" for people who stay together when perhaps they shouldn't, but also know that kids are resilient and will be fine, "even as" they are raised in houses full of tension .

(just using your language to point out that even when you backtrack a bit and explain, you still sound like you think that staying together is *almost* always superior. Which is fine. I just don't agree.)

Lex said...

qmama44: I feel sad sometimes not FOR our friends who are divorced (though surely I have shared tears with several of them), but about LOVE in general: that it can't just be easy all the time. And I never, ever advocated for keeping kids in homes full of tension.

But yes, if two people can live happily together with their children, I DO think that is preferable to them living apart, and sharing custody of their children. And I think that marriage is worth working on and fighting for. When Luke and Jaz were toddlers, Lena's and my marriage went through some extreme challenges; many people would have jumped to the "divorce" conclusion. At the time, we never could have anticipated that we'd be able to work through it and actually come out feeling MORE in-love on the other side. And if we hadn't, if six months into it, we were still feeling just as disconnected and hurt, then we likely WOULD have gotten divorced. But I'm so glad that we didn't give up during those awful months when life just sucked. Because now, in retrospect? It was just a couple of months. And we've since clocked several blissful and rewarding YEARS together, without any need to separate from each other or our children.

This doesn't mean that I don't fully support single-parents-by-choice, or other intentional, non-traditional family structures. But I know that having to share custody of their children is the biggest heartache for many of our friends (one describes it as "the greatest trauma of [her] life"), and it's an outcome that I would avoid at many costs (no, not to the point of compromising anyone's long-term happiness, but definitely to the point of compromising on issues that I might initially think were deal-breakers for me).

JoeANDHannah said...

Lex,

I understand what you mean. I am not a divorce attorney, but I am an attorney who does an occasional pro bono divorce. Even when divorce is really the best option, nobody says, "Yay. I'm so happy my hopes and dreams were all wrong and I am so happy that I once thought I'd spend the rest of m life with this person, and now we are going to court." Even if divorce is necessary, it is still sad.

Kathryn said...

Thanks for sharing your (and your children's) thoughts on and pictures of pride. In the last few years, I've found myself reflecting on the word "pride" at Pride and my hopes that pride can be a both a celebration of being proud of who we are and also accepting and loving of others.

In terms of the thoughts shared in your post, Lex, and in the other comments, I too feel sad when I hear of marriages (queer and not) ending in divorce. I can appreciate that in some circumstances it's the best thing for everyone involved, but I think for me there's a joyous and beautiful hope in marriage, in the commitment to live and be together and the celebration of love. And it's sad to me when a hope or a love ends. And somehow, logical or not, it's a little sadder for me with queer marriages. Because for so long and still in so many places queer couples have had to fight for the same marriage rights, it's someone a little sadder to me when a marriage ends.

Likewise, I'm inspired by the beauty of loving families. One of the things that touches my heart deeply is diversity of people in families (which sometimes include exes) and yet the similarities of love and support in families.

Unrelated to the pride post, Lex, if I remember from your blog last year, I think your birthday is in May, so happy birthday! :-)

Anna said...

Thanks for your response, Lex, and to everyone else leaving thoughtful and interesting responses.

I get that divorce is inherently sad in the sense that two people that thought they were going to be in a romantic relationship until death ended up breaking up way before that. (I mean, that's what the end of a marriage is, right?)

However, I don't think it's inherently sad when two people who came together to have kids and a family together decide that they don't want to be romantically involved anymore or don't want to live in the same home anymore. To me, making a commitment to co-parent with someone seems much more permanent a commitment than a commitment to be married to someone.

And Lex, you say, "if two people can live happily together with their children, I DO think that is preferable to them living apart, and sharing custody of their children." I disagree with this. I'm sure in some families, it is preferable, if parents are unable to be mature enough or grounded enough or trusting enough (for whatever reasons) to share custody well, etc.

However, I can think of a bunch of reasons why it MIGHT be better to have two parents living apart and sharing custody. Here are a few:

*A stay-at-home parent might finally get some "off duty" time where they are not the default go-to parent, and can develop hobbies or pursue goals that are challenging when children are in the house all the time.

*A dad or non-gestational parent or any parent who might not be the go-to-for-comfort parent when both parents are together might get to cherish that new role when alone with the kids.

*If parents live in two different places, kids get to enjoy being exposed to different environments. (This was my situation when I was an adolescent: with one parent in suburban California and the other in New York City, I felt like I had dual adolescent experiences, one urban and one suburban, one east coast and one west coast, etc.)

Again, this does not mean separated co-parents are better parents or that all parents should separate for their own sake and the sake of their children. But I think it's worth thinking about WHY we automatically assume it's better to be together than apart. Because when we assume that, no matter how much we say that there are all kinds of different families and their all beautiful blah blah blah, there is still going to be that underlying stigma, that idea that shared custody represents some kind of FAILURE.

Lex said...

ALS: the scenario you describe (from your own childhood) is something I have never known. I think it's probably fairly rare, and is certainly not the norm. All of our friends who have separated and divorced in the past couple years have gone through serious trauma and are no longer friends with each other. Many of them went through awful custody battles. Also of note: in each instance, one partner wanted to leave the marriage, while the other did not. These were by no means amicable situations. So, while I can, to some degree, see your point in re: to the "ideal divorce," it's hard to assume that most (or even many) divorces would play out that way.

Also, for me, personally, having to share custody of my children would absolutely equal failure. It would be totally devastating to me to not live with them daily. Perhaps not all parents feel this way, and I'm sure that this fact affects my apparent sadness re: divorce.

Anna said...

I totally respect that you and others would see shared custody (rather than living together with kids) as a failure for you.

But just because it might be failure for some parents/partners, I don't think it has to be failure by definition or default.

Thanks for having the dialogue!

Anonymous said...

Oh my gosh, I love the new header thing for your blog, awesome pic! :)

Unknown said...

Hi,
I've been following the comments and I honestly don't have an opinion on the divorce debate except to say that having to be shuttled back and forth between my two parents' houses and feeling like my siblings weren't my "real" siblings because I only lived with them half the time was completely heart-breaking.

I definitely don't think my parents should have stayed married (and I was only six months old when they divorced so I don't even remember what it was like to have both) but sharing custody of me was one of the most unsettling, painful and frustrating things I've ever had to deal with.

I guess my point in saying this is to point out that no matter what your good intentions are, sharing custody of a child can be a really, really bad decision for that child.