I am the straight daughter of two moms, a Christian gay-rights activist, a proud Kentuckian and a big sister. I hope that very soon, I’ll be a maid of honor too.
Last fall, I moved into my Stanford University dorm on my 18th birthday. Living away from my family and my home state gave me the perspective to realize I had a voice, a story to share and a plea to make for equality. Over Christmas break, I asked my sisters to join me in creating a video in an effort to encourage the Supreme Court to review the Sixth Circuit marriage-equality case that upheld state bans on same-sex marriage. After we posted Sanctity on YouTube, the Family Equality Council contacted me to ask if we would be a part of their “Voices of Children” amicus brief to the Supreme Court. We were thrilled. As my 12-year-old sister said, “All kids learn history. We get to help make it.”
On Tuesday, I will speak at the rally outside the Supreme Court about why I think my parents should be able to get married. While I’m excited to speak, I’m angry that I have to. I’m angry that because my family is still invisible to the judges in our circuit and the voters in our state, this case had to go to all the way to Washington to be resolved. I am angry that every day, people use my own religion to justify their discrimination against my family. I am angry that even if the court does legalize marriage equality, my family will return home to a state where the majority of the residents wouldn’t agree with that decision.
I believe that eventually, Kentucky will change, but I am tired of waiting. My parents have been engaged for 20 years. You can imagine how ridiculous it sounds when people argue that they threaten the sanctity of marriage. They taught me the sanctity of marriage.
I know how fortunate my sisters and I are to have two incredibly dedicated and loving parents. They have not only sheltered and fed us. They have also taught us to be good citizens and to help those who are less fortunate. They have nursed us through sickness, volunteered in our school classrooms, led our Girl Scout troops, coached our softball and field-hockey teams, taught us how to ride a bike, bandaged our skinned knees and created and celebrated family traditions. I think this country would be in a much better place if all parents—gay or straight—were as extraordinary as they are.
We are a family, and always have been. The Supreme Court cannot change that. What they can do is once again set the course of our nation’s history on the right track. They can acknowledge that my family is not invisible, that we count.
I am hopeful that they will. Five years ago I couldn’t have imagined I’d be speaking at the Supreme Court, and that I’d be proud—not scared—to tell my friends about it. Back in middle school, I always said “my parents” instead of “my moms” because I was so afraid to be honest about my family. I never walked into a church without paralyzing fear, feeling like someone might find me out and tell me I didn’t belong. Many of my grade-school friends must have thought “my mom” was Superwoman—a stay-at-home mom and a nonprofit CEO, a softball coach and a Girl Scout leader, a retired teacher and the PTA president—because I tried to make them sound like one person. I am ashamed of myself for that, but I’m also sad that my fear was at least in part justified.
I want to help create a world where no child anywhere ever faces that fear again. My sisters and I are ready to break our silence. We can only hope the Justices will hear us.
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