I grew up in a theatre, so I didn't really understand what all the fuss about gay was when growing up. I just understood that some people liked boys and some people liked girls and some people liked both. It wasn't ever really a surprise. On my 21st birthday, my parents took me to the best dance club in the city, which happens to be both predominantly gay and the best drag show around. I loved it, except for the fact that the men all danced better and were far prettier.
Really, I was raised by what amounted to a village of both straight and gay actors, musicians and artists. I probably know more gay people than straight. My mother raised me with a sensitive heart and my father raised me with a strong sense of justice. Now that I'm older, I know better that the world is rarely a fair place, but deep-rooted injustice always makes me passionately upset.
The debate over gay marriage continues, to my disbelief, despite the passage of New York’s Marriage Equality Act in June of this year. At one time in history, we told black people they could marry white, or “Birds of a feather flock together; it's better that way.” At one time in history, we told women they could vote. If history teaches us anything, it's that we can be and often are wrong.
I was raised Catholic too. I understand the idea of marriage as a sacrament. But I also think that there cannot be anything more beautiful than two people who love and trust each other, who want to make a formal commitment in the eyes of God.
Not too long ago, I was at work; I am a manager at a luxury clothing store. A family was shopping together: mother, father and college-aged son. The son liked a pink shirt. The father made some comment like, “Naw, you don't want to be gay.” I hear this sort of thing all the time and just kind of brushed past it.