QUEER PARENTING
RAINBOW FAMILY
PHOTO ELLIE KURTZ
There was a lot I didn’t know about being a parent before my wife and I had twins: what it felt like to see dawn break because I was feeding babies rather than because I’d not yet been to bed, that days alone with tiny ones are interminable, whilst months and years rush past at supersonic speed, how physical it would feel to fall in love with them.
And then there was the realisation that, despite having come out when I was 20, many years later I’d be doing it again and again and again as a new queer parent.
In my pre-kids life, I didn’t feel that new people I met – at work, say, or a party – assumed anything about my sexuality. But, on maternity leave, at baby sensory or baby music class, that was not the case. It soon became clear that, because I was there, had a wedding ring and a baby (or in my case, two babies), fellow new parents overwhelmingly assumed I was straight. I lost count of how often I was met with surprise when I mentioned my wife, or corrected someone when they referred to my husband.