Happy Father’s Day

In elementary school, this was one of the days that I dreaded the most. Surrounded by my peers cutting out tie-shaped construction paper cards and golf-themed foam picture frames, I would sit there twiddling my thumbs.

Sometimes the teachers would tell me to participate in the crafts by making something for my older brother. At eight years my senior, he was no fatherly figure. As much as he proclaimed that he was the “man of the house”.

A whole day, where the curriculum, if you could consider it that, was dedicated to Dads! For some reason, this was humiliating to me. Though I found the toolbox themed word-searches fun, the ‘What I Love About My Dad’ essay prompts were especially difficult. As everyone else was writing, I would put my head down and scribble circles with my crayons.

A day that everyone else found so fun became an annual chore of quiet despondency, an exhausting effort to blend in. It felt like everyone was looking at me. It felt like the same embarrassment and shame that I imagine comes with standing naked in a room full of people.

When you’re a kid, those things feel so big. You’re still learning how the world works, how you’re different, and what that even means. All I knew was that I felt like I didn’t belong in that moment, and that feeling swallowed me whole.

I know now, how lucky I am to have even experienced this. Yes, I did not have a dad, but I did have two parents that loved me very much. Two moms.

There is this one memory I have that genuinely haunts me. Everyone’s parents were supposed to come in and read a book to the library class and I told my moms I didn’t want them to participate. I was so scared of being different. I didn’t want to deal with the questions, the looks, the whispers. So I pushed them away because I was ashamed of something I didn’t even understand yet. Capitulating to that fear remains one of my deepest regrets.

So yeah this wasn’t the easiest at the time (for perspective: I was 12 years old when gay marriage was finally legalized nationwide) but I do think it’s helped me become a pretty cool person. Having two moms is something I’ve grown to be very proud of, and it’s disappointing that I didn’t realize how cool it was when I was younger. I was definitely a pretty weird kid and these two women did their best job of supporting me through it, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

So yes, I’m free today, but in no way am I complaining.