My Godmother is Jesus

When I was 5 or 6 I flew from my new home in Virginia to stay with my godmother Tina for a week or so where I was born. Texas. Not my Dad mind you, who also lived in Texas, my godmother. Who was basically a second parent for my youth. 

One day, she took my little sister and I to Six Flags, and before we went she said “Kaye and Stacy* are going to be there. You remember them?” Nods from the peanut gallery, “Ok, so they are gay. Which means that they are girlfriends… with each other.” 

My response was “They aren’t going to kiss in front of us are they? That would be gross.” She said “Probably not.” Because in my 6-year-old brain the only reason we would be having this conversation was because we were going to have to prepare ourselves for a hardcore make out sesh happening in front of us. Didn’t happen though. 

And we went to Six Flags… and it was AWESOME! 

So then I get back to Virginia, and this conversation goes down: 

Me: Mom, we went to Six Flags with Tina and her friends. They are gay ladies. But they didn’t kiss in front of us. 

Mom: Well you know Tina is a gay lady. 

Me: What? 

Mom: Tina’s gay. 

Me: Has she always been gay? Like even when we were really little. 

Mom: She has always been gay. 

Me: Oh.

And in that moment I felt so bad, because I would never want this woman who helped raise me to think that I thought she was gross. She was totally not gross. She was this representation of all the things I loved in this world, and none of those things contained anything gross.  

As I got older, I watched her find love… with KAYE! What! Sneak attack! Raise 2 beautiful, happy, well adjusted boys, and pour affection and caring into so many people who feel forgotten about. She’s kind of an everyday hero guys.

A champion for the unknown. Protector of the undefended. A person who's great at parties. Just like Jesus. 

Guy, my godmother is Jesus. 

So yeah, gay marriage is something that’s super emotional for a lot of people, and I certainly fall into that category.

Sexual identity has always been a weird thing for me, and I’m very lucky that no one in my family has ever made me feel weird about who I connect to. Unless, of course, that person happened to be a douche bag. 

Which brings me to my theory; the sooner we learn to accept people for their surface differences the sooner we can start hating them for who they actually are.

Just kidding!

Come on guys. At 6 I realized that loving is always the answer. 

Let’s end with something everyone can get behind. Corgis:


* I don’t remember this woman’s actual name