Two Mothers, Two Children, One Home
by Derek Parry
There
is perhaps no issue that is more controversial in the political fibers
of the United States than same-sex marriage, along with other advocated
LGBT civil and human rights. Like other
controversial issues, the situation is complicated and a universal
answer is difficult to establish. But when we don’t have answers, that is
when we especially need peace. We need peace to fill the divide in our
country. We need peace to be the buffer between the
turbulent tectonics of our various states, communities, and individuals
regarding the all too often and too hateful disagreements about
sexuality.
As a child, I was raised in a very conservative community, but my best friend’s mother was a lesbian. Cody and I had both been diagnosed with cancer, and we met when we were six years old at a children’s oncology camp. At Camp, Cody and I were taught through example that even though all of the kids at camp were different—even though some kids had tumors, or autism, or moved around in wheel chairs, or wore a wig or hat because they were still embarrassed—that we loved everyone at Camp, and that differences should make no difference when it comes to love.
It was no different when I first met Cody’s mom, which wasn’t until I was in high school because we lived so far away from each other. Although I had never seen a front door ornament quite like theirs, which read, “Two Mothers, Two Children, One Home,” she welcomed me into their home and treated me like her own son.
As a child, I was raised in a very conservative community, but my best friend’s mother was a lesbian. Cody and I had both been diagnosed with cancer, and we met when we were six years old at a children’s oncology camp. At Camp, Cody and I were taught through example that even though all of the kids at camp were different—even though some kids had tumors, or autism, or moved around in wheel chairs, or wore a wig or hat because they were still embarrassed—that we loved everyone at Camp, and that differences should make no difference when it comes to love.
It was no different when I first met Cody’s mom, which wasn’t until I was in high school because we lived so far away from each other. Although I had never seen a front door ornament quite like theirs, which read, “Two Mothers, Two Children, One Home,” she welcomed me into their home and treated me like her own son.
We need peace to be the buffer between the turbulent tectonics of our various states, communities, and individuals regarding the all too often and too hateful disagreements about sexuality.
When
I came home after visiting Cody’s house for the first time, I talked
with my parents about it. Some parents, I have learned, are hesitant to
expose their children to “that kind of thing,”
but as I spoke with my parents I learned this wasn’t the first time they
had encountered such a decision. My younger sister, my older brother,
and I had been on the city swim team since we were old enough. We
weren’t teenagers yet when my parents discovered
that our swim coach was a lesbian, and that because of this some parents
had pulled their kids off the team. My parents thought about it, but
decided the most important thing was to never set a precedent of blatant
discrimination for their children.
I am still politically conservative, and, honestly, I do not agree with the legalization of same-sex marriage. But that is the heart of tolerance and peace. That even though I may disagree, I still genuinely love my friend and his mother, and that I can join Voltaire when he said, “I do not agree with what you have to say, but I’ll defend to the death your right to say it.”
I have also realized that peace and tolerance are not necessarily easy virtues to practice. To many people, practicing peace and tolerance while disagreeing with your neighbor’s sentiments is like Orwell’s doublethink in Nineteen-Eighty Four, “The act of simultaneously accepting as correct two mutually contradictory beliefs.” But that is not it at all. Peace goes deeper than that. And if we are conscious enough to recognize what is really going on, we will be able to teach ourselves and teach our children how to live in a world where there is peace and tolerance regarding the political controversies of sexuality.
I am still politically conservative, and, honestly, I do not agree with the legalization of same-sex marriage. But that is the heart of tolerance and peace. That even though I may disagree, I still genuinely love my friend and his mother, and that I can join Voltaire when he said, “I do not agree with what you have to say, but I’ll defend to the death your right to say it.”
I have also realized that peace and tolerance are not necessarily easy virtues to practice. To many people, practicing peace and tolerance while disagreeing with your neighbor’s sentiments is like Orwell’s doublethink in Nineteen-Eighty Four, “The act of simultaneously accepting as correct two mutually contradictory beliefs.” But that is not it at all. Peace goes deeper than that. And if we are conscious enough to recognize what is really going on, we will be able to teach ourselves and teach our children how to live in a world where there is peace and tolerance regarding the political controversies of sexuality.
Derek Parry is currently studying at BYU-Idaho, majoring in music and
preparing for law school. He has volunteered as a counselor at two
children's oncology camps in southern Idaho for five years. After
graduating with his B.A. in music, Derek wants study healthcare law and
continue to contribute to his community. He has been in remission for 16 years.