‘I’m Proud to Be a Gay Dad’

Instead of joining the recent gay pride celebration on the raucous streets of West Hollywood, I found myself working at a rummage sale fund-raiser for my 5-year-old daughter’s preschool. Have I compromised my fierce gay identity now that I’ve hurled myself into fatherhood? No way. I believe these two roles--gay man and dad--are, perhaps surprisingly, anything but schizophrenic; in fact, they complement one another powerfully.

I have been an openly gay man--a gay rights activist--for 25 years, half of my life.

Only after adopting a child did being gay become a more integrated aspect of my existence. While I never camouflage my gay self, I am often more at home with other dads than I am with other gay men; the immediacy of shared experience is what bonds people. These days, my dad self often overshadows my gay self, yet I can’t deny that my being gay, particularly during the heyday of “the Plague” when I lost most of my beloved buddies, has provided a lesson plan for the daunting task of parenting: Hold hands as often as possible; snuggle as if there’s no tomorrow; say “I love you” until you’re hoarse.

The traits necessary for parenting are the ones I learned at the bedsides of dying comrades: loyalty, tenacity, generosity. As the AIDS crisis ebbed, choosing to adopt a child seemed natural. I wanted very much to care for someone who was facing life, not death.

Fortunately, I belong to a generation of dads whose values are shifting; the fathers of my kid’s schoolmates are affectionate, physical, connected men. Straight dads and gay dads share the same hopes and dreams for their children.

Considering the hysterical climate about gay parenting in other parts of the country, perhaps the situation in Los Angeles is idyllic. Or maybe it’s simply as it should be. My gayness is part of the Silverlake preschool’s larger human mosaic; I read to my daughter’s classmates; I drive on field trips; I host sleepovers at our house.

Maybe this is gay pride working at its subtlest.