To most outside observers, I was a well-raised, high-achieving child, finishing high school with straight A’s. People in our community didn’t really know what was going on in the house. Quite simply, growing up with gay parents was very difficult, and not because of prejudice from neighbors. In other words, I was the only child who experienced life under “gay parenting” as that term is understood today. I lived with both of them for the brief time before my mother died at the age of 53. As the youngest of my mother’s biological children, I was the only child who experienced childhood without my father being around.Īfter my mother’s partner’s children had left for college, she moved into our house in town. They had separate houses but spent nearly all their weekends together, with me, in a trailer tucked discreetly in an RV park 50 minutes away from the town where we lived.
Between 19, when my beloved mother passed away, she and her female romantic partner raised me.
