To my children on the occasion of their parents wedding.

My dear Gabriel and Joshua

Last Saturday, your dads got married.  It was a wonderful wedding that we have been planning for many months.  (Well, let me be honest here – Leon has been doing most of the planning, most of the hard work – I have been nodding occasionally, agreeing with this and disallowing that, every now and again, as is my wont).

We spoke to you both about us getting married quite a long time ago.  Your reactions were not, initially, very encouraging.  “Oh gross!” you both exclaimed.  “Do we have to come?!” And finally, “Are you going to kiss?!”  But your views seem to have mellowed a little since then.  Gabriel, you baked a rainbow cake and iced it in white and suggested that we have the same for our wedding.  Joshua, you got very enthusiastic about what we were all going to wear and demanded red takkies for your shoes – not to mention matching braces.

We have come a long, long way.  Leon and my journey to this point has been almost 16 years, and our parenting has been almost 13 of those 16 years.  You have been with us for most of our relationship so far.  It is extremely difficult for me to remember what life was like without you.

I remember my own shock, when it became clear that Leon wanted children.  It was never something I had imagined for myself, believe me!  I balked at the idea of endlessly changing nappies and shoving spoonfuls of mush from bottles into gaping mouths.  I asked myself (and him!) what was the point of being in a gay relationship, if one was going to ruin it with children!  But I also listened to him.  I’m sure I was no different from any marital partner who discovers that their life partner wants children.  I listened. 

Leon made it clear that this was a non-negotiable for him.  He had to have children.  And from the moment I heard what he was saying, my life was turned inside-out and upside-down.  Because children are very different from puppies or kittens.  They start reading you from the moment they see you.  They analyse all your good and all your bad.  They take everything in and then they take over the whole of your life.

Gabriel, I can remember when we first met.  Leon called me excitedly to say that the Princess Alice Adoption Home had called him to say that they had a baby who they thought might be right for us.  I raced there.  I wanted to meet you myself before I made any decision.  I was told where your cot was and I sat beside you.  You lay there quietly, sucking your middle finger and watching me.  Analysing me.  Assessing me.  We sat like that for quite a while.  I put out a finger and you took hold of it with your other hand.  And that is when it happened.  I became your father from that moment.  From that moment my being was entirely and forever changed.  From being just an ordinary man, I became a father.

They say, when you are adopting children, in the legal documents, that this child which you are adopting is “as if born from you”.  I can tell you both, Gabriel and Joshua, that this is true.  You are both “as if born from” Leon and me.  There is no other way of putting it.  When we first met you Joshua, the social worker brought you into the tiny office she was working from.  She put you first on Leon’s lap and then after a while, Leon passed you on to me.  You were watching us both intently.

You were reading us, assessing us, forming your very strong opinion of us.  And it was then – right there in that office – that you became our son and we became your parents.  In a single moment of time.  In an instant.  It was that quick and that powerful.  You were “as if born from us”.  When I look at you, I see myself.  That is just the way it is.  It isn’t complicated.  It didn’t take forever.  It required no effort at all.  It happened there and then.  Just like that.

And so it was that the two of us started the parenting journey that has really defined most of our lives for the past 13 years now.  We got used to the nappies.  I got used to the occasional projectile vomit.  We worked our way through the pre-school and the early years, trying to do the best we possibly could for you both.  But what is seldom recognised is that you have not just been passive participants in all of this.  You have lived your lives with us too.  You have had to put up with our weaknesses and faults, along with our strengths.  You have had to tolerate our irritating ways and our foibles.  You have had to accept that we are very distinct individuals and we often have very different (and probably very confusing) views on just about everything.

You have given us completely unconditional love.  You have comforted us when we were low.  You have laughed with us, when we were happy.  You have tolerated our latest ideas and survived some of the worst of them.  You have built our family together with the two of us.  Solidly, steadfastly, through easy and through seriously difficult times.  You have co-built what we have together.

What the legal documents about adoption don’t make reference to, is the way in which adopting a child will change you – and how it will do so irreversibly.  Because my life – our lives – can never be the same again, since you came to live with us.  You have shown me things I would never have known.  You have given me more joy than is possible to describe.  You have given me more to be proud in than I would ever have achieved in my own life.  You have shown me an aspect of love that I would never have known, without you in my life.

So when people have asked your other dad and I, why we have waited until now to get married, we have answered “because it feels right to us to do it now”.  Both of you are old enough to understand what we are doing in getting married.  Both of you are old enough to be fully part of it.  Our marriage is between the two of us, but a large part of us – is you.

Our wedding was a celebration.  All the people who came there, were people who are deeply connected to our lives.  Our families; our friends, from near and from far; our colleagues from work; some of your friends and the parents of some of your classmates.  It was a wonderful celebration of our life together.  We are so lucky to live in a country where our family is legally recognised.

These are things which have been fought for.  They did not come easily, or automatically.  They have been the fruits of struggle.  For some of our family members, it has been a difficult thing.  For some of our friends, the same.  For some of our colleagues also.  These are not always easy things.

But, in general and in relation to everything that matters, the support we have received has been overwhelming. 

We wanted to celebrate our love in the communion of our friends and loved ones.  We wanted you to experience that love – that joy – that acceptance and that support, which we know surrounds us.  It is a wonderful thing, which we can all depend on.

The fact that we are married now, doesn’t really change much.  Breakfast is still going to be breakfast.  Homework is still going to be homework.  I am probably still going to be grumpy more than I should be.  But what has changed is the fact that we are now publicly, openly, in overwhelming celebration – a wonderfully supported family.  If families as happy and as complete as ours are not public – then who should be?  We celebrate the house we have built for ourselves.  We celebrate our commitment to each other and our love for each other.  That is what we did, when we married each other last Saturday.

We chose the name Gabriel, for he is the bearer of good news. We chose the name Joshua, because he is the one who leads people to complete their journey.  We chose them both because of the cultural tradition from which we have come and which forms a dominant part of our milieu, (for better or for worse). We are all what we are.  We can only try to live up to the ideals we set for ourselves, not those which have been set by other people.

But here, now, at this really important moment, let us all reflect on the wonderful thing which we as a family have built together.  May it continue to change to suit all of our very individual and different needs.  And from us as your parents, you can depend on our love for you as we grow in love for each other.  You can depend on this, for as long as we are alive to give it.

All my love

Your dad

Michael

Save us, dear lord, from more resolutions

The Anglican Church in South Africa – well, more specifically, the diocese of Cape Town, has taken a resolution. It could not be described as “groundbreaking” or “earth shattering”. It is really little more than a timid little whimper. According to the Cape Argus (24/08/2009) the resolution “ask(s) the Archbishop to request the synod of Bishops to provide pastoral guidelines for those of our members who are in covenanted relationships (sic – how they got into these, needs some explanation, seeing that the Church itself won’t allow this), taking due regard of the mind of the Anglican Communion”(Sic!)

Clarifying the resolution, the Dean, Rowan Smith – himself Gay, said that “the mixed signal which the church was sending out needed to be clarified”. (I’ll say!). “We allow gays and lesbians in same sex relationships to become reverends and bishops but refuse to acknowledge their relationships as valid. This causes confusion and we as the clergy have no idea how to advise people”.

This seems to have been followed by other extraneous issues, like that while South Africa has a constitution which accepts civil unions between same sex partners, other countries i9n the region do not. (The resolution, you will notice, immediately, is not that these countries SHOULD have things like the recognition of same-sex partnerships, but merely noting that they don’t – causing a bit of awkwardness and unpleasantness.

Well, that really blew my hair back. Don’t know about you!

30 years married - 18 years divorced

So, today is, or (I suppose more accurately) would have been my 30th Wedding anniversary – had we stayed married. Yes, I was married, at the tender age of 21, to an even more tender 19 year old girl.

We married out of love. That I am sure of. We lived together, fairly unhappily, but with moments of real joy, for 12 years. She knew I was gay from the start. But we were brave, and young and we didn’t see why sexual orientation should get in the way of love. We went against best advice - and probably what is now called best practise - and we married, in a ceremony in the little Anglican Church where I had grown up, in Johannesburg. The flowers she carried were daffodils and I cannot see a bunch, still today, without remembering us then, and her beauty and youth and loveliness.

Her mother disapproved strongly. Her father was dead many years – not dead to her though. Her brothers and sisters were reluctant participants in the wedding – as were mine. I never really knew why they just seemed not to like me. I didn’t think it mattered much, but of course, it always does. My sister and I had a major fight the night before the wedding – but she came. My one brother, who has not spoken to me for going on 25 years now, and his purse-lipped wife, attended, then fled our lives forever. The other sent wishes.

We lived at a time of struggle. We got married in a vacation period, in the middle of my degree in Cambridge. Soon, I was to leave to finish the degree, and she was to remain behind, lonely, amongst the virtual strangers of my family – but still brave and still in love.
I had promised her that there would be men down the road of our life together. And there were. And she knew it. She thought she could cope with that, but it became clear fairly soon, that she could not. And so, my liaisons became more secretive, more closeted, more furtive as the years wore on.

We lived in a time of struggle and facing the call-up into the racist South African Army, we fled to neighbouring Lesotho, where we lived happily – probably the most happily - for 3 years. There we joined the banned African National Congress and worked underground. We saw death and destruction. We made lifelong friends. We changed from the narrow racist white South Africans that we were by birth, to liberated people. That is what Lesotho gave to us. A lifelong, precious gift.

Next we went to Britain, me as a priest, she as a teacher of English to foreign students. She met one who wanted to marry her. There was a secret romance. The problem, and perhaps the curiosity, was that he was Muslim. So, I was not alone. I have often revisited the moment I knew for sure that the romance was on (and I have no idea how far it went). Was I jealous? No, I was not. What was I? I was angry that I had not been told. That was the issue. That was the matter. That was the substance. And ever since, I have vowed never to do that to the person I am with.

And I must ask now, it is possible to live with someone, love them completely and yet have sex with others? And I must answer that I do believe it is possible. I don’t think it is easy, and I don’t think it is necessarily wise, but I do believe it is possible. And I would say to the church, so quick to judge perched, as it sees itself, on the Summit of Mount Integrity, that it is perfectly clear that monogamy is practised more in the breach than the observance. If we all just stopped the farce and admitted that, the debate would move ahead in leaps and bounds. We badly need another model. We need rational discussion about it, at the very least. Because, it seldom happens. And when it does, it just does. I see nothing morally superior in it. And if one is going to REALLY listen to gay and lesbians about their way of living this life, then the church needs not to exclude what, for many of them, is an extremely positive experience. But Ah! – I am just dreaming here. The church is frantically struggling just to accept gay and lesbian Christians as fellow sinners – let alone valuing and learning from their experience!

And so my wife and I struggled with living our lives together. There was a great deal against us. Her emotional condition was not stable and she seemed to fight the very things which would have made it more stable. I think I was too young, too full of testosterone, too impulsive – maybe even too selfish, to help her. But I have said, and not only once, that had we been more mature about things then, we would probably still be together. (And I would still be gay).

Silly, underexposed, people, with very little imagination ask me, when I tell them that I was once married to a woman, “But were you able to have sex?” Of course we were able to have sex. When you are young, it really doesn’t take very much doing. I don’t think I was bi-sexual. I think I was gay. Just married to a woman, that is all.

Getting divorced was not pleasant for either of us. I doubt it ever is. One of the abiding benefits for me was that I stopped smoking. Somehow, it was the divorce which enabled me to do it – I have no idea why. Another positive was that I realised I could not live under the cloak of lies which the church demanded from me any longer. I could not keep silent about who I was, and so the divorce carried through to the church as well. And I actively went about looking for a male life-partner. I advertised, and I found one. And it was a happy thing.

And so looking back, I ask myself, do I regret it? Do I regret spending 12 years of my life, married to a woman? I think there was a time when I did, but that was caused mostly, by hurt and anger. My hurt and anger. But that did stop. We both did find lives for ourselves. And, remarkably, we have managed to stay in contact.

First, that contact was openly combative. Then it was competitive. Then it was calmer. And now it is slightly guarded, but affectionate. There have been times, even, when it has been supportive and caring. I am extremely glad we have that. I am glad to be able to connect with someone, whether it be by text message, or by call, that knows those 12 years of my life, like no-one else. Someone who knows me, like nobody else, because of that. Someone who has had a profound effect on me, because of that. I am glad we did not have children, because then our continued contact would, in all probability, be involuntary.

And so, looking back, from the hindsight of some considerable history, I am glad to say that those 12 years are not years I regard with horror. More with pride and some healthy nostalgia. And I am glad that the springtime daffodils still remind me of her.

Riversdal: The Beauty and the Beast

Riversdal was named for the Civil Commissioner of Swellendam, Sir Harry Rivers, in 1838. It is a tiny little town, with a population of some 7000, on the N2 between Albertina and Mossel Bay. There seems to be some confusion amongst the locals about whether it is Riversdale (which would be the English version) or Riversdal, which would be the Afrikaans. I suppose it is either. But it is not "Riviersdal" - which would refer, not to a man going by the name of 'Rivers', but rather to the Afrikaans word for 'rivers'.

The houses in the centre of the town are really beautiful. The pictures I took are from just one of the streets I and a colleague walked down. "Couldn't you imagine bringing up you kids here?" she asked. I thought for a minute.

On the one hand, yes, of course I could. The houses all have low walls, if they have any walls at all. The gardens are huge. The town is picturesque and framed with mountains on either side. The fields lush and green. It is tranquil and idyllic.

But then I remembered that this is the town where one of the first Gay couples to legally marry in South Africa lives - (their names are Vernon Gibbs and Tony Halls), and I also remembered reading some time ago just how much stigmatization and ostracising they had to go through, living here. I hear that they have become more accepted over the years, but it must have been hard. Would I want my black adopted children with two male fathers to grow up here? No, I would not. Cape Town is tough enough.

Gay identity

"NOW THEREFORE, I, BARAK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim June 2009 as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month. I call upon the people of the United States to turn back discrimination and prejudice everywhere it exists."

Now, there is a thing! - "Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month"! I have to say, as a South African, I find the idea rather strange. I mean, what would one compare it to? Could we have a "Black Pride Month"? Or, if one is talking minorities, a "White Pride Month"? It all starts to look and sound rather absurd.

Now, it is true that most of the time, other than the fact that we do not share commonality with the rest of society, being Gay or Lesbian, (or whatever) is frequently the ONLY thing which binds us together. And in the end, one needs to ask, does it even do that? Is it not really a figment?

And when I start to compare lifestyles, and political persuasion, and ethics and things like that - I find , often, I really don't want to be in that group at all! Yes, we may be Gay, or otherwise engaged sexually, but that is hardly a reason for being together - unless there is some other unifying factor.

Like, for instance, oppression of one kind or another, or persecution, or unequal opportunities, or hatred. But then it is - or at least it should be - a joint effort. Being Gay, or Lesbian, or Bisexual or Transgendered, or Intersexed (or even heterosexual!) is just what we are, as human beings. It is not worth forming a sub-culture over, any more than red-hairdness might be.

To my mind, it plays into the prevailing prejudices of society to want to, or need to, separate off in this way. I think it has a place - for the purposes of lobbying, cajoling, pressuring. But the problem is, that it frequently then becomes an end in itself, not a means to an end.

Obama has been criticised fairly strongly because he has not done away with the ability of individual states to take their own decision restricting same-sex marriage. In his campaign for the White House, Obama had pleged to repeal the Defence of Marriage Act, which bars the federal government from recognising same-sex marriages and enabling individual states to refuse to recognise such marriages performed in other states.. The Justice Department has filed a brief, in opposition to a federal lawsuit, which argues that the law is unconstitutional, saying that the Act "reflects a cautiously limited response to society's still evolving understanding of the institution of marriage".

Now, at first glance, this looks pretty cut and dried. How is it that there is not simply one position, for everyone? Surely that is what one would expect in a liberated, free society? But there is, of course, another argument - one which is being played out at the moment - in a much smaller arena, in the Anglican Church.

Here it is argued, that we need to " take our people with us". I would think, from the brief of the Justice Department, that much the same perspective (and caution) is being applied. What is meant, is that one has to keep the bigger prize in focus and take small steps to get there.

On the one hand, one cannot but agree. Of course, the best scenario is that there should be consensus on the matter. But on the other (and I am afraid this is the trump card in the debate), it is not as though one is arguing about what colour to paint a room, or when to serve tea. Human lives and human dignity is the issue here. And if it is wrong that state is unfairly discriminating against some people - prolonging the discrimination is not a satisfactory solution.

I think the church is a slightly - but only slightly - different matter. Because there, unfortunately, one has to deal not only with the soft bedding of hypocrisy, which the church has made for itself, as well as the difficulty of years of really questionable theology. Neither of these is insurmountable. At least in South Africa, we have our Constitution as one of the sweet fruits of our struggle. It is a sad truth that many in our churches continue to struggle with some of its contents, such as the issue of sexual orientation. I have no doubt that we will eventually get there. It may take a long time. And the probability is that a lot of people will be alienated from the church because of the time it is taking. But, like divorce, and women priests - we will get to the obvious place eventually.

And hopefully, we will all eventually, as humankind, reach a point when being gay or straight is as irrelevant and unremarkable as the colour of one's eyes.