Guilt

by: Claudia Gatica

     My doctor used to say it was my blood pressure rising like a storm; I called it my Catholic "Guilt.” I remember my third grade teacher, a nun the size of a Sumo Wrestler, would declare; “God loves everyone no matter what!”, “If you confess and repent, you will go to heaven!”  That's comforting when you are 8 years old and knew you told a little white lie in order to spare the pain you would bring your mother, if she found out last night's dinner is now rotting inside her favorite potted plant.  Once you become an adult, declarations like these are easily dismissed.

     Guilt is how I have pushed myself to do most things I did not want to do in my life. Things I knew were wrong for me, like getting married to my first spouse, although I knew all I wanted was a child and I did not have to marry him for that.  Coming out to my family was like taking candy from a baby, if I compare it to the pain and anxiety I felt when my daughter came back from school and announced, “she made no friends that day, and no one played with her during recess!”  

     My kid; a sweet ballerina, guitar player, gifted and in the accelerated program; worried about homeless people, needy children, and whether or not I would live to see her children’s birth. She could not understand or accept why other children would not want to play with her. A child that only wanted to be loved, to belong, and to be accepted by her family and peers could not recognize the signs of prejudice other children had against her, due to their parent’s idiosyncrasies. It would make the blood speed up and down my body so fast, that it made me dizzy, like if I had just gotten off the roller coaster at a fair.  

     It was Guilt that overwhelmed me each day when my daughter looked at me with her big brown eyes and asked me why I didn't become friends with the other children’s moms, in order for her to have friends too.  Insightful indeed for a six year old!  What she failed to see were my rejected attempts in building a friendship with the other parents. They would give me “the look” we GLBT people know too well, when someone realizes we are different.

     As a family we had made a conscious decision to move to one of the most prominent neighborhoods in Miami. As a couple, our relationship was strong and loving. We had the strength to raise my daughter together and believed our balance would help others understand our situation. Even though most people could not even conceive the idea of our love, I did not feel guilty for wanting a family with her.  

     We planned so much and ended up turned down by the prejudice and snobbery we found in that part of town! People would look at us in the supermarket like we were from another planet. They would murmur, and look at us again with, “the look.” Once at the store, we saw two men that looked like they were a couple. My partner made a joke and said, “We know each other in this town, because we are a rare specimen for sure!”  We laugh about it now, but back in those days we were scared, confused. All we wanted was acceptance and to find more people like us. 

     These events constantly reminded me of why as a lesbian; I am not permitted by the standards of society to have a child. I feel selfish for wanting a baby so bad and naive for thinking my love would have been enough for her to survive prejudice in a healthy manner. This prejudice the world has shown against her is the prejudice towards me. I just have to believe that things will change tomorrow. 

     When my daughter was four years she asked me what it meant to be a lesbian. I explained to her what it meant for me to be a lesbian. I told her; “Mommy loves Veronica and two girls that love each other like Mommy and Veronica, are lesbians. A few days of thought she came to me and she said; “Mom, when I grow up I think I will be a lesbian too, because I am always going to love you. We are both girls and we love each other, so we are both lesbians.” 

     For my daughter’s sixth birthday party only a hand full of children RSVPed, and less showed up for the party. We were all disappointed and of course my daughter was very hurt also. After she wasn't invited to any birthday parties that year, she asked; “Mom, why don’t we move away from here, to a place where there are more families like ours?” This is when we decided that this would be her last year at the preppy school with gifted children of rich families. We decided we would be moving to another school with equally gifted children, but enriched in ways that the children in her old school will never know. The best move we made was to be around other families the same as ours.  However, it was unfortunate that we had to move to another part of town to find equality and happiness.   We felt that all of our professional success, our college degrees, our financial freedom, love for each other, and normalcy made no difference to them. The one thing they would judge us for, was because we were not a man and a woman.

      My daughter is ten years old now and she imagines herself married to Jessie McCartney, having five children, and practicing medicine as a plastic surgeon. How is this dream different from the dream of many other children born out of any mother? Maybe she is an over achiever, but that does not come from having a lesbian mother, that comes from having a mother raised in a Military household full of over achievers.

        It seems that we are all striving to be accepted as individuals and not categorized by labels and stereotypes yet we apply them freely to others. For me that Catholic "Guilt” has become more of a memory than a way of life.  Maybe someday my family and I will all laugh at this, but today the struggle for equality continues.