Category Archives: Parenting

Let’s Not Waste Our Energy, Okay?

Nixon and Marinoni with their son, Max Nixon-Marinoni

The rainbow-hued wires have been buzzing this week with bitching and tsking over actress Cynthia Nixon’s interview with the New York Times Magazine, where she told writer Alex Witchel that for her, being gay is a choice.

Her comment was made while telling a story about how she prepared an empowering speech for a gay audience, and was counseled to edit out the line, “I’ve been straight and I’ve been gay, and gay is better”. Event organizers felt that Nixon’s statement implied that homosexuality can be a choice which was not a message they supported, to which she replied, “And for me, it is a choice. I understand that for many people it’s not, but for me it’s a choice, and you don’t get to define my gayness for me.”

Immediately, Nixon began to be pecked at by the self-righteous peckers of gay rights organizations and the gay press, who hopped up and down and said her statement fuels the conservative belief that gay can be prayed away.

Today, Nixon made a statement to The Advocate, in an attempt to clarify and contextualize her comment:

“My recent comments in The New York Times were about me and my personal story of being gay. I believe we all have different ways we came to the gay community and we can’t, and shouldn’t be, pigeon-holed into one cultural narrative which can be uninclusive and disempowering. However, to the extent that anyone wishes to interpret my words in a strictly legal context I would like to clarify:

“While I don’t often use the word, the technically precise term for my orientation is bisexual. I believe bisexuality is not a choice, it is a fact. What I have ‘chosen’ is to be in a gay relationship.”

So there. We made her turn in her gay card so she could be reissued a bi card. Now that we’ve forced the woman into clarifying her sexual orientation for us, we can all feel better about our own gayness.

Why does the LGBT community continually act like it’s Gay Day at Disneyland and the gayest amongst us will go to the front of the line at Space Mountain?

Nixon, 46, was in a 15-year relationship with a man that started in her early 20s. The two have two children together. Since 2004, she has been in a relationship with education activist Christine Marinoni. Marinoni gave birth to the couple’s son in 2011.

Nixon’s story isn’t that different than mine (well, except for all her talent and fame). I also came out in my 30s. I was married to a man, and together we had a child. Since I’m confessing: it was actually my second marriage to a man. I was involved in two opposite-sex relationships that totaled nearly 27 years, the first a right-after-college-graduation marriage to my high school sweetheart.

No one, especially  not a reporter, has ever sat me down to ask if I think my lesbian identity is a choice. But I’d probably say “yes”.

Make no mistake, I’m as gay as the next dyke. But somewhere back before the turn of the century, I made a clear-cut decision to come out and live the rest of my romantic life in the company of women. Life with men wasn’t awful. I suppose I could have kept doing it – and millions of women have, for reasons of security, religion, and fear of being ostracized.

But the question of could I do it again is a much tougher one. There are just too many variables. I’ve never identified as bi because I never pictured myself returning to relationships with men. And, admittedly, I’m the first one to rankle when Dan Savage starts talking about the sexual fluidity of women. I don’t think of my sexuality as all that fluid. Before I came out, I just hadn’t considered my options.

I thought of myself as perfectly straight, right up until I met a woman who rang my chimes harder than any man ever had. While I didn’t have a relationship with her, I was so unnerved, I was compelled to look deeper into myself. It was my own dark night of the soul. But unlike Jonah, I wasn’t coughed up in a ball of whale spit. Instead, I landed on the beach covered in lube and waving the rainbow flag.

So I was married to men. Does that make me less gay now?

Consider this: With the exception of a very few Gold Star Lesbians, every lesbian woman I know has slept with more men than I have (three).

I understand why we don’t want to give haters any more ammunition to use against us, but the sort of backlash aimed at Nixon fractionates us. It divides our own community into gay, gayer, gayest, bisexual, and so forth. It’s a complete waste of energy that could be better spent scaffolding our community, not tearing it down.

This type of reactionary thinking panders to conservatives and will ultimately hinder the gay rights movement.

For example, in a 2006 article in Pediatrics: The Journal of the American Academy of Pediatrics supporting gay marriage, the Academy stated  that the vast majority of children with parents in same-sex relationships were conceived in heterosexual relationships. So when we talk about gay families, should we exclude them from our numbers? Make them draw a bi card? No, we need to coax these moms and dads out to be counted. We need to encourage them to come out to their family doctors. Then, perhaps the estimated number of kids being raised by gay parents won’t be so wide-ranging, anywhere from 1 million to 10 million in the U.S., and will settle near the higher end (and probably more realistic) figure.

That’s how we gain political clout.

For political recognition, we don’t need fractions, we need whole numbers. We need to throw our gay arms open and embrace the entire damn rainbow.

While we’re at it, let’s all apologize to Cynthia Nixon. She tries to do right by our community. And, she’s more than gay enough for me.

From the Mouths of Babes

You tell ‘em Riley.

Gingerbread Souse

When Kid was little we had a television set. (I know it’s un-American, but we haven’t had one for most of his life.) The television shows aimed at children were insipid and he wasn’t yet old enough to appreciate the charms of The West Wing. So, we watched cooking shows – lots of cooking shows. After all, who can appreciate Emeril Lagasse’s obnoxious “BAM” more than a four-year-old?

Today, I introduced him to the charms of Hannah Hart’s “My Drunk Kitchen”. Sure, it’s probably inappropriate viewing for a kid, but he says it beats the crap out of anything he’s seen on The Food Network. Hannah is funny, gay, and a little nuts. We’re both in love with Hannah.

Mother’s Day: How I Got a Little Fierce

This one is a repost from 2009… Happy Mother’s Day, all.

Every year when Mother’s Day rolls around, I start to feel edgy.

Make no mistake, I’m a mother, and have been for 12 and a half years.

But there’s something about this Hallmark holiday that makes me feel inauthentic.

Continue reading

Prom as a Community’s Litmus Test

Even though popular media would have us believe that prom is the apex of a American teen’s high school experience, often it turns out to be the opposite. Over-spending, binge-drinking and date-rape not withstanding, every year brings a new round of sad prom stories – kids who are forced to dress a certain way, who can’t bring their date of choice, and who are segregated by race.

So I have to say, I wasn’t entirely surprised to hear that Mississippi lesbian teen Constance McMillan was cheated into attending a fake prom while her classmates attended the real deal somewhere else. After all, small minds breed even smaller behavior.

It seems that events organized around fluffy dresses – proms and weddings – are the true litmus tests of a community’s acceptance, diversity, and (yes, folks) moral behavior.

This One’s For My Son…

…only I think he’d be more likely to build a Lego house he could actually live in.

lease

As always, my heartfelt thanks to xkcd: a webcomic, the product of one radically funny mind!

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Postcards From a Lesbian Mommy

KoolKid

My almost-13-year-old rock star

While Geek Porn Girl isn’t a parenting blog in the strickest sense, I am a mother and “mommy posts” do appear from time to time.

My son is 12. He would say “almost 13″. I like to stay he’s stumbling into puberty.

Here is a round-up of some of my posts about our life together, in no particular order:

My Kid’s Gay Hat

Mother’s Day: How I Got a Little Fierce

Why Are There No Talking Vaginas?

It’s All in the Pronunciation

We Went Marching on a School Night

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Why Are There No Talking Vaginas?

healthypenissigns_thumb

One of the campaign's print ads

Yesterday, my son and I were in San Francisco, and it seemed that every bus that passed us sported a colorful ad with three anthropomorphic cartoon penises dressed in clothes.

The “Healthy Penis” campaign, warning the public about the dangers of syphilis, has been around for several years now, on buses, in print, and on television. I’m sure few people in SF give these mobile billboards a second thought. However, to a 12-year-old, they’re absolutely hilarious.

The first one he saw was out the car window. He said, “did you see that bus? I think it had penises on it.”

“Thankfully, I missed it,” I said. (I’ve seen the bus ads before, but hoped this would be the last of the conversation. Being a parent teaches you nothing, if not how to downplay and drop a topic.)

“Maybe we’ll see it again,” he said.

“Oh my god, mom. Those ARE penises!” he said, as we sat in the window of a favorite taqueria and one of the buses stopped at the corner directly in front of us. “That’s got to be the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He was laughing so hard he was holding his sides.

There was a web address in the ad: www.healthypenis.org.

“When we get home, we’ve got to look that up,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what’s there.”

“Sex ed information,” I said.

I explained to him what syphilis is, and why people need to be concerned about it. He’s no stranger to hearing about sexually transmitted diseases because I used to work for an HIV/AIDS organization.

“Still,” he said. “The website’s got to be funny.”

I found myself thinking about the cultural acceptance of penises as funny and sort of friendly. They are often talked about as a “little man,” having the potential to become the third, or fourth, personality in a relationship. I’ve heard that some men name theirs. The stage show, Puppetry of the Penis – in which two men manipulate their own genitals into silly shapes on stage – is about to have a return engagement in New York.

I’ve only known one woman who named her vagina. She volunteered to me, one day over lunch, that she called hers “Brenda”. This was so much more than I wanted to know about her.

The_Groove_Tube

The Healthy Penis ads made me think of a film clip from my youth. In the 1970s, there was a brief trend of making movies that had no plot, they were simply a series of skits, and usually in bad taste. The Groove Tube, which made fun of American television, was released in 1974, before I was old enough to see it. But it was later rerun in a local theater in a double feature with another skit film, Kentucky Fried Movie. I probably still wasn’t old enough to see either of them, but back in the olden days, theater owners didn’t care like they do now.

I soon discovered that one of the highlights of The Groove Tube, was Safety Sam, a talking penis.

While wildly scandalous when the movie was released, I had no problem letting my son watch Safety Sam. In fact, he found the skit about Brown 25 (“another product from Uranus”) much funnier.

I’ve never run across a public ad campaign with a cartoon of female genitalia.

I’ve seen some pretty satin and velvet vulva/vagina hand puppets, but they’re mostly intended for education.

Even in this clip from The Tyra Banks Show, which made television history by dedicating an hour of national television exposure to vaginas, the puppet isn’t playful so much as way to help women be less afraid of their own parts. In fact, I found the whole conversation annoying because of how it’s predicated in an assumption of misunderstanding and mystery (with hints of shame).

Almost every person in the world born with two X chromosomes has some form of female genitalia. It’s embarrassing that an hour of daytime television would be dedicated to explaining where our parts are and how they work, in the simplest terms.

Can you imagine a similar televised discussion of penises?

dick1

Japan's Penis Day

I doubt it.

We have so much historic and cultural exposure to penises, through everything from stage shows to national days of celebration (Japan’s Penis Day is March 15), that there’s apparently nothing left to do besides turn them into cartoon characters and give them their own FaceBook pages, which HealthyPenis.org has done.

I think that we need more cultural exposure to vulvas and vaginas, and a good place to start woud be a happy, playful, talking vagina.

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Mental Illness Less Likely for Kids of Lesbians

According to a story in the Copenhagen Post, a Danish study has shown that children with lesbian mothers have a lower risk of developing psychological illnesses than kids growing up with a heterosexual father and mother.

The study, conducted by the University of Copenhagen is the first of its kind in Denmark.

There are an estimated 2000 Danish children with same-sex parents. Approximately 700 children have been adopted by homosexual couples in registered partnerships since 1999, when the practice became legal.

The study found that while five percent of children from heterosexual families developed conditions such as depression or anorexia between 1992 and 2008, the number was two percent among the 387 children of lesbian parents participating in the study.

The findings, according to Merete Lauberg, of the University Of Copenhagen Department Of Public Health, suggest that concerns that alternative families have a negative effect on child development are unfounded.

The reason for the positive results are unclear, but researchers are busy hypothesizing.

Some think the challenges faced by homosexual parents could play a role in how well their children ward off psychological problems. For example, it’s widely accepted that lesbian mothers may have encountered more resistance in their lives than heterosexual parents have.

“Resistance makes you stronger, and that [trait] could be passed on to their children,” Lauberg said.

Another reason, according to psychiatrist Per Hove Thomsen may be rooted in the efforts the parents had to make to conceive the child.

“A lot of other parents have challenges having children, but children with lesbian mothers face particular challenges,” he said. ‘The women have had to make an extra effort to get pregnant, and that could have an effect on the child.”

In 2007 the Danish Parliment passed a law granting lesbians access to artificial insemination at public hospitals.

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Mother’s Day: How I Got a Little Fierce

Every year when Mother’s Day rolls around, I start to feel edgy.

Make no mistake, I’m a mother, and have been for 12 and a half years.

But there’s something about this Hallmark holiday that makes me feel inauthentic.

The thing is this: 12, nearly 13 years ago, I gave birth to the world’s coolest, kindest kid. He’s smart and talented and good, and is genuinely funny in way kids and adults appreciate.

But at this time of the year, images of mothers are everywhere I look, and none of them look like me.

Commercial motherhood, the kind that’s peddled on cards and by diamond dealers, would have you believe that motherhood is soft and fuzzy. The media wants us to think that procreating softens women, gentles us, and rounds our sharp corners. Dare I say, motherhood is supposed to tame us?

Yet, somehow the opposite happened to me.

I was married to my son’s father when he was born – a situation that now feels as distant as it seems improbable. And two years later, I found myself confronting my own sexual orientation.

I’ll save my whole coming out story for another time. There wasn’t another woman in the story, at least in any concrete sense. But suffice to say, there was therapy and tears, the support of loving friends, and more tears. My son’s dad moved out, and we went on with our lives.

I didn’t surprise anyone. I certainly didn’t surprise my parents who told me later they had always thought I might be gay and would figure it out myself someday.

My ex-husband claimed he wasn’t surprised, (but became vindictive and  followed legal routes to exact his revenge, resulting in me paying him support).

I don’t think becoming a mother and coming out as a lesbian are tied together in any biological sense. However, I can say without hesitation that motherhood changed me in ways I didn’t expect.

I didn’t get soft and fuzzy. I didn’t start wearing pastels and grow a ponytail.

Instead I got a little fierce.

I wore lots of black and  got tattooed. I buzzed my hair off.

I’d never been very athletic, but after I gave birth I felt like Super Woman. I had a confidence in my physical self I’d never felt before. I started kayaking and roller-blading, both miles at a time. I took some rock climbing lessons at an indoor rock gym and climbed at Joshua Tree and in Arizona. I started taking yoga. Somewhere in all this, I found the space to consider my sexuality for the first time in my life.

Motherhood taught me to trust myself.

This isn’t something that’s supposed to happen. Everything – from birth books to parenting magazines to media images of motherhood – is set up to make us question ourselves in every way.

And yet it didn’t work that way for me.

I’m not saying I didn’t read the literature – I did.

But I realized instinctively I didn’t need to buy into everything I read. In fact, the worst gift anyone ever gave me was a copy of Mothering magazine.

Mothering is the magazine of alternative parenting. It features articles like “Can jelly, make organic baby food, homemade lip balm, and chemical-free hair dye – all from the same batch of wild-harvested berries”.

I had a baby and was working full time. We were juggling a two-parent schedule that allowed us to both work without using childcare, and frankly, there wasn’t time to fold a cloth diaper, let alone properly wash one. I started throwing the magazine out the moment it arrived in the mail.

To this day, I still make a rude gesture at the cover of Mothering every time I see it on the rack at Whole Foods.

I got a little fierce and I’ve stayed fierce.

One of my good friends has a baby that is almost a year old. We talked the other day, and she said she had expected this first year to be different. She doesn’t feel the way she thought she would.

“How so?” I asked.

She said she felt edgy and a little impatient. “Not with the baby,” she said. “Just with everyone else. I don’t have time for their nonsense. And everyone expects me to be different.”

I told her about flipping off Mothering magazine and she laughed out loud.

“That makes me feel so much better,” she said. “I’m starting to hate that fucking magazine.”

Apparently I wasn’t the only one motherhood made fierce.

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It’s All in the Pronunciation

I’ve got this big-brained kid, and he started talking clearly right around his first birthday. Other than sleep, Lego, and reading, he hasn’t stopped much since.

He suffers from one of the marks of the voracious reader: He will frequently try to throw words into conversation that he’s read, and understands, but has never heard pronounced.

Some of these are generational, and for that he can be forgiven.

After he discovered Guitar Hero at a friend’s house, he came home and asked to download a song by Pat “Ben-Are-Tar”.

“Who?” I asked. He had no hesitancy in repeating it: “Ben-Are-Tar”.

I was still quizzical.

“Mom,” he said. “I think she’s in your generation. She sang ‘Hit Me with Your Best Shot’”.

The best thing about this syndrome of his is that complete lack of hesitancy. He has no qualms about diving right into a word, and no shame at all when he’s corrected, or when everyone around him dies laughing. He simply files away the correct pronunciation in that head of his and moves on.

He recently made a reference to a truck’s “chase-ess,” which left several people wondering until I – having learned to translate – said “chassis”.

“Right,” he said, continuing his story.

And, in a conversation about pencils, I made reference to the iconic Ticonderoga pencil brand.

“Really?” he said, without missing a beat. “Ticonderoga? I always thought it was Ticken-der-ooga.”

My favorite of all of these will be the time he came home from school and said one of the older kids had called him a “douche bag”.

“What did you do about that?” I asked, knowing he’s pretty easy going.

“I called him an “ah-nee-mah nozzle,” he said.

It took me a moment, but I was soon howling with laughter.

“What did he say?,” I choked out.

“He just looked at me with a blank expression,” my son said. “By the way, Mom, what’s a ‘douche bag’”?

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Gay Penguins Remain Hot Topic

tangoAmong books that engender complaints because of sexually explicit content, violence, or profanity, the book most complained about is a kid’s story about a baby penguin with two daddies.

The American Library Association announced recently that the year’s most challenged book – for the third year in a row – And Tango Makes Three, Justin Richardson’s and Peter Parnell’s award-winning picture story about two male penguins who become parents. Tango was cited for being anti-family, pro-gay and anti-religion.

Challenged books are those that have been most likely to inspire complaints from parents, educators, and others.

The ALA listed 513 challenges last year, a sizable increase of 93 from 2007, but well below the levels of 700 and higher in the 1990s. The ALA defines a challenge as a “formal, written complaint filed with a library or school requesting that materials be removed because of content or appropriateness.”

For every challenge tallied, about four or five end up unreported, according to the ALA.

An ALA spokeswoman said that books were actually pulled at least 74 times last year. Those removed included Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (refers to masturbation), Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper (sexually explicit) and Mark Bowden’s Black Hawk Down (profanity).

In the fall, the library association will co-sponsor the 28th annual “Banned Books Week,” a nationwide program founded in 1982 that highlights banned and challenged books.

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Are Prom Dresses Getting More Risqué, or am I Just Getting Older?

Lately I found myself ranting to a co-worker about a Bay Area formal-wear shop that has been running newspaper ads featuring local high school girls tarted up like Vegas showgirls.

Each ad features a little profile like this: “Sarah is the girl’s volleyball team captain, a member of the marching band, has a 4.0 GPA, and is an animal shelter volunteer. She’s hoping to go to Stanford and study law.”

It stops short of being a Playboy centerfold bio (“Likes: Angora sweaters, kittens, and strawberry sorbet. Dislikes: Pap smears, hairy chests, and rimming.”).

But, the sweet little bio accompanies a picture of a leggy, busty, smoothly tanned girl, made up like RuPaul, stuffed into a slinky floor-length dress with plunging front and a crotch-high slit, and balanced on shoes that would make the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence dizzy.

A teen girl hasn’t been this done up since my friend Babs ran for Miss Minneappolis Downtown back in the Flashdance era.

The girl in the ad is supposed to be ready to go to her prom.

Prom, folks. That means she’s either barely 18 or younger.

(I checked out the store’s website and found they’d made this video, which stops short of being soft-prom-porn.)

Yikes.

labiadressCall me old-fashioned, but I want to see prom images that make me think of corsages and slow dances and sweet kisses, balloons floating down, hearts all a-flutter.

I don’t want to see an ad that makes me think of prom as a pole-dancing competition followed by a quick scratch-and-moan with the captain of the football team and drinking until someone throws up on their shoes.

I keep thinking “What are these girls parents thinking?” followed by, “I’m so glad I have a son”.

I thought those ads were bad until I saw this prom dress, at sale at on an online company, complete with labia and a clitoris peeking out.

Can’t you see a young girl emerging from the dressing room in this number, asking her mom and dad, “I don’t know. Do you think it’s too much?”

Choke.

BTW, after a bunch of folks (not just dirty-minded me) pointed out the pussy potential of the dress, the online photo was changed to make the ruffles more discrete.

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Sperm May Carry Potential Product Liability

New Scientist magazine is reporting that sperm should be subject to the same product liability laws as car brakes, according to a U.S. judge who has given a teenager with severe learning disabilities the go-ahead to sue the sperm bank that provided her with a biological father.

The 13-year-old girl was born with fragile X syndrome, a genetic disorder causing mental impairment and carried on the X chromosome. She is now suing the sperm bank, Idant Laboratories of New York, under a product liability law more commonly associated with manufacturing defects, such as faulty car brakes.

The plaintiff does not have to show that Idant was negligent, only that the sperm it provided was unsafe and caused her injury. Genetic tests have revealed that she inherited the disorder from her biological father.

The girl was conceived in Pennsylvania, where a “blood shield law” protects sellers of human bodily material from product liability suits. In New York state, however, sellers are not protected by any such law. On March 31, a federal judge ruled the case should be tried in New York.

It made me wonder how far we are from being able to sue the actual human who produced the gamete. This may be just the tip of the flagellum.

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My Kid’s Gay Hat

novmodernclothhatWe’ve been experiencing a weird phenomenon lately. People have been addressing my 12-year-old son and me as “ladies”.

I suppose this is a byproduct of gay friendliness, but it’s still a little weird.

The first time this happened was in January in Disneyland when a park photographer approached us and said, “Would you ladies like to get your photo taken? You could even have it taken with Darth Vader!”

We sort of looked at each other… one of those movie looks. I told the photographer “my son would probably love to have his picture taken with Darth Vader, but I’ll just watch.”

She sort of stammered and apologized while she handed him a light saber.

Then early in March, leaving a No On 8 rally in San Francisco, a cab driver did it again, “You ladies have a good evening.”

Here’s what’s going on: My son and I are now the same height. I’m sure that by the time school gets out for the summer he’ll be towering over me. In a frisson of sixth grade fashion flair, he’s taken to wearing a fedora. But under the hat, he still has a sweet baby face, right on the brink of adolescence. I like to say he’s stumbling into puberty. And, I look really gay. Although I’d describe myself as a medium-maintenance sort of femme, I like to wear my hair shorter than Rachel Maddow’s, on the verge of crew cut. I have those interesting glasses that seem to be the mark of the modern lesbian.

So, people take one look at us – me looking like a little ol’ dyke and him a similarly-sized person in Chuck Taylors, jeans, an ironic t-shirt, and a hat – and assume he’s my butch girlfriend.

Luckily, my easygoing kid thinks this is really funny… but I’ve decided I’ll throw a couple of bucks in the therapy jar just in case he needs it later.

He's not as tall as Darth Vader... yet.

He's not as tall as Darth Vader... yet.

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We Went Marching on a School Night

eveofjusticeLast night, my son and I, and a few thousand others, made the walk from Harvey Milk Plaza to San Francisco’s City Hall, as part of the Eve Of Justice candlelight march, intended to encourage the State Supreme Court to overthrow Prop. 8.

I’m not a mommy blogger, I’m not even a lesbian mommy blogger. Although I know I’ve mentioned that I have a son, I tend to write more about things I’m not ready to have my kid read, than about my interactions with him. However, tonight was one of those special nights and I have a really special kid.

I’m hoping that my son, who is stumbling into puberty, will grow up to be a kind man. All arrows point that way. He’s a great guy with an easy way about him, a good sense of humor, and he’s genuinely nice to people. In return people are nice back.

I asked him if he wanted go to the rally in SF last night, and at first he wasn’t sure. Then he thought about it and said “I think I would”. So I left work a little early and we drove south, over the bridge, and into the city. (Well, actually I drove, and he did his math homework.)

We arrived in the Castro with a few minutes to spare. My son sized it all up and said “I need a restroom, candles, and a sign to carry.” True to form, my son asked a shopkeeper if we could use his restroom, and he agreed. By the time I emerged from my turn in the restroom, a nice guy in a black fedora was comparing hat brims with my son. Minutes later he met us outside and handed us a sign. And again, within minutes, my son found a guy to sell us a pair of little electric candles for $2 each.

Then we were off with the crowd.

It was a school night. We’ll have to be out of the house at 7:15 this morning – he to school, me to teach a yoga class before my “regular” job. And we live quite a distance north of San Francisco.

So what was this lesbian mommy thinking?

I was thinking that I had an incredible opportunity to teach my son something about civil rights, and – hopefully – to let him witness something historic… and I think I did.

You see, one of my great hopes is that he won’t have to see many civil rights rallies in his lifetime. I hope they won’t be needed. I want him to understand the important of equal rights – not just for his lesbian mommy – but for everybody. I want him to be able to explain that importance to the people of his generation, although I’m hoping he won’t ever have to.

You can read about the Eve of Justice rally on SFGate, the SF Chronicle’s website. There’s also a video below that will give you a taste of the event.

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Let’s Celebrate Breasts!

breastsposterMaybe it’s all the hoopla around Facebook’s puckered attitude about breastfeeding moms, maybe it’s my interest in taking lactation training so I can help new moms nurse successfully… who knows, but I was moved to watch Breasts: A Documentary.

I can’t recommend this hour-long film enough. It should be required watching for all women and girls. I think maybe for men too, although not for the reasons they’d think.

The film is the work of Meema Spadola, an award-winning film maker and an all-female camera crew.

Although it was released in 1996, the film remains wildly relevant.

Spadola talked to 22 women – many of whom appear topless in the film – about their relationship with their breasts. There are so many layers to the film: Mother/daughter relationships and inter-generational body attitudes, the role breasts play in sexual relationships, breast feeding, breast augmentation experiences, and of course, breast cancer. The subject’s film include a voluptuous transsexual, a stripper with implants, an 11-year-old on the cusp of puberty, a 420-pound comedienne, and an 84-year-old grandmother.

Check it out if you get a chance. It’s available from Netflix and you can buy it on Amazon. It would make a fantastic Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day gift for the special woman in your life.

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Nipples in your Face… uh… book

I recently wrote about Facebook’s war on nipples, which has extended into the mothering community and has resulted in Facebook users having their accounts closed because they posted pictures of themselves breastfeeding their babies.

The social networking claims breastfeeding photos violate its decency code.

(You can read my earlier post here.)

iReporter Phil Hansen is among the “lactivists” protesting these actions. “I was surprised at the whole idea of removing breastfeeding photos, as a baby breastfeeding would totally cover the nipple and most of the breast,” says Hansen, pragmatically.

Hansen is a Saint Paul, Minnesota-based multimedia artist known for his viral Web videos.

Now, according to a CNN report, Hansen is busting Facebook’s chops with the first video in his new series called “Art Happening”.

In “Facebook’s War on Nipples,” Hansen documented his creation of a self portrait made entirely from pictures of his own nipples. (You can see his artwork work here on CNN.)

He posted the final product to his profile on Facebook.

We can see what happened next in Hansen’s follow-up video. It turns out that Hansen’s profile picture was removed after only two days, and he was notified that he had violated the company’s terms of use.

“I was expecting it to get removed,” says Hansen. “Because if it stayed up, that would mean my face made with nipples was more appropriate than a mother breastfeeding her child, which would just be weird.

CNN did ask Facebook for an official comment about the controversy. A representative e-mailed the following statement:

We agree that breastfeeding is natural and beautiful and we’re very glad to know that it is so important to some mothers to share this experience with others on Facebook. We take no action on the vast majority of breastfeeding photos because they follow the site’s Terms of Use. Photos containing a fully exposed breast (as defined by showing the nipple or areola) do violate those Terms and may be removed. These policies are designed to ensure Facebook remains a safe, secure and trusted environment for all users, including the many children (over the age of 13) who use the site. The photos we act upon are almost exclusively brought to our attention by other users who complain.

“As defined by showing the nipple or areola…” Mother of God. I get that Facebook needs rules, but whatever happened to thinking outside of the box?

We’re living in a day and age when it’s only mildly scandalous for Janet Jackson to show her areola and her nipple, pierced by a big metal bar, on national television during prime time. I can’t believe the Dilberts at Facebook can’t tell the difference between a nursing mom and an obscenity.

Why is it okay for women to use their bodies to entertain others, but not to feed their children?

I don’t think I’m being over-the-top when I say Facebook’s unrelenting ass-pucker is looking pretty darn misogynistic.

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Facebook Fails To Recognize Cleavage Between Sex and Breastfeeding

The internet is rife with photos of large-breasted women, nipples barely covered. These images greet me daily on the “infotainment” feeds on CNN, Yahoo!, and other sources.

But while it’s apparently socially acceptable to display breasts as large, firm, and shiny as new cars, it’s not okay to display natural ones being used for their God-given purpose: feeding babies.

The popular networking site Facebook has come under fire for removing photographs of nursing mothers, of all things.

Over the weekend, a handful of activists sang songs, held signs, and breast-fed their children in front of Facebook’s Palo Alto headquarters in protest of the censorship.

Facebook claims it’s just trying to prevent its site from becoming riddled with pictures of bare breasts and says it has no problem with nursing. Protestors say breastfeeding images are not obscene and should not be restricted.

But this sort of action is what encourages women think there’s something nasty about breastfeeding. It’s what makes them turn to formula and plastic and microwaves when their own bodies can provide superior nutrition and immune support at no cost at all. Women who have any discomfort about breastfeeding need society’s support, not ostracization.

I can’t believe that in a time when women can – and should – breastfeed everywhere, a discussion this stupid is even taking place. There’s nothing dirty about bare breasts doing what they’re supposed to do. It’s context that can make them sexual and enticing.

Believe me, as a woman who loves women and a woman who loves babies, I understand the difference perfectly well both in the breasts of others, and in my own lovely and functional pair.

Facebook needs to loosen up its e-sphincter.

You can read more in the Mercury News, here.

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Lesbian Teens at High Risk for Pregnancy

A Canadian study has produced some surprising results.

The study which was initially published in the Canadian Journal of Human Sexuality and reported in this morning’s Vancouver Sun say that lesbian and bisexual youth are up to seven times more likely to become pregnant than their heterosexual peers.

The study’s authors attempt to determine possible heightened risk factors, including experimentation, closeted kids trying to establish themselves as straight to avoid harassment, and attempts to build a new, accepting family for themselves.

Gay male teens showed an increased risk of fathering children.

Read the story in the Sun.

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