WOULD YOU

I was scrolling through the front page of the New York Times and there it was, an oversized pink square highlighting an Ideas article with the title “Would You Want to Know If Your Baby Had an Incurable Disease?” I did not click on the bait to read the article, but I could imagine that it reads like an editorial with some factual research on genetic testing thrown in. It is one of those think pieces that are meant to prepare you for tough decisions, but it is not a new to me think piece. This kind of question is the basis for Twilight of the Golds, a play by Jonathan Tolins.

A thousand years ago, during that idyllic college time, Chris was in a production of Twilight of the Golds along with Talaura, Misti, Kirk and John. The story revolves around the couple Suzanne (Talaura) and her husband Rob (Chris) discovering through genetic testing that their baby boy will probably be born gay. Suzanne’s brother, David (Kirk), is gay and all of this leads to family discussions about the trials of raising a gay child and whether or not Suzanne should abort the fetus. In 1993, the “incurable disease” was(is) homosexuality. As Chris’s theater support, I found myself in his dorm room during show seasons running lines with him in between my class schedule. I am not, nor was I then, interested in being in any of the plays. I am not talented in this way, but Chris… well it was his talent in this way that made me notice him to begin with. Most of the time, running lines was a fun activity, but this play was awful. Chris’s character was moody and angry and most of the character’s interactions was with his wife. Their discussions were hard and complicated and heart breaking. I couldn’t wait to be done with this play. The only good thing that came out of it is one picture I have framed and hanging in the family section of prints in my house. The photo is a family photo of Misti, John, Talaura and Kirk taken as a prop for the set.

It is a cherished photo.

It is no surprise to anyone that I am and always have been pro-choice. It is none of mine or your business of what any woman does with her body. I know that if I found myself pregnant today, I would have an abortion scheduled for the very next day. I don’t need to tell you the many reasons I have for that choice and I would not wait around for genetic testing to make this decision. This play gave me a list of one reason for not getting an abortion. Because I would never once even consider the tiniest of thought of ending a pregnancy if my child was going to be LGBTQ+ in some way. Yet…I know people who would. I know that their hate for the LGTBQ+ community is so great, that if genetic testing made it possible for them to know this about the child they were having, they would immediately abort. I know people who have no place in their hearts for love and acceptance, not even for their own child. I am not friends with these people, but I know them and at the very root of this “would you?” question is the reality of knowing that there are people who would say ‘yes’ to aborting their child for this reason.

And that knowledge has put a dark smudge on my heart.

I was off camping in the woods the weekend KCMO was celebrating Pride. I missed the parade and seeing people walking together in love and solidarity. I am the biggest softie when it comes to seeing two people together who are so obviously in love and who have realized that they have found their person. I think I have more LGTBQ+ friends who are in long term relationships than straight friends. I recognize the difficulty in finding your person when the odds of doing so are so stacked against you and I so respect and admire those people have beaten the odds. And so, I turn straight to mush over it. My heart swells up at the sight of it and I will rip out the throats of anyone that tries to come in to hurt or destroy that love. My dark smudge has made me deeply protective of love, mostly because I know what it feels like to have found my person only for him to be cruelly taken away.

I think about this every Pride month. I think about that awful play and I even get a little mad at Chris for the role he played in that play. I think about how rotten a human has to be in order for sexual orientation to be the reason to have the abortion. Then I look over at the people and friends who show me every damn day that love is always the winner.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I missed the Kansas City Pride Parade this year because it was happening while I was flying back from Massachusetts. I keep seeing Insta reels from friends who walked in the parade and I get a little sad that I missed it. We did manage to take the Cabbage to Pride Fest the next day, but I didn’t really say anything about it. In fact, I didn’t post anything about June Pride and instead I’ve been over silently collecting Pride stickers to put on the scooter and bicycle.

So can I call myself an advocate?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this. I have made an attempt to write something regarding trans rights and this garbage dumpster that is Missouri Government many different times this month. I watched a beautiful story on CBS Sunday Morning about a family with a child that started second grade identifying as female. In response to the ban on gender care in their state, the mom said “I guess we just have to live in fear for a little while.” And my heart broke for this family. Once again we have a group of individuals who know and understand nothing about the science and medicine around the topic of the thing they are creating laws for. I could dive in real deep into the science of gender dysphoria and how there are five (only FIVE) mRNA transcripts associated with gender, but I don’t think I need to do that for my audience. The bottom line is that it’s your body, your gender identity, your sexual orientation and that is nobody’s fucking business unless you choose otherwise. And none of these things require governing.

Now, me sitting here typing all of that out does not make me an advocate. Voting. Respectful use of pronouns. Plain old just being respectful. These are things that make me an advocate. While there is a part of me that is experiencing some left behind feelings for not being in the group walking in the parade, the better part of me knows that walking in parades doesn’t make me an advocate. Instead of filling up space in social media with stories of advocacy, I was quite and left space for my friends and loved ones in the LGBTQ+ community to tell their stories. The common themes in every story I have heard or seen are bravery, love, and hope. It takes real bravery to be open about who you are in a world filled with people who hate you. It takes real love to be your true self and infallible hope for a world without the constant fear of those people who hate you. In every story, I have seen faces filled with joy and love because events like PRIDE month with parades and festivals provides safe environments for this community to be their true selves. Their joy is contagious and bolstering.

So as we wrap up Pride Month, I’d like to say thank you to each of you for your bravery in sharing your stories and filling my world with color and light. These stories are the things that I think of every time I think about skipping out on an election day. Those happy, joyful faces are my reminders that I am not too lazy and tired to write and contact my senators and representatives.

Your bravery is a contagion the keeps me fighting against hate every day.