Inheritances and taffeta

Just a quick link for you from the excreble Guardian Family supplement:
Gay Godfathers Rule

Oh, where to begin? With the stereotype of gay men as childless, rich and brimming with “good taste” and bonhomie? With the cheerful encouragement by the mothers of the writer’s (three-out-of-four) female godchildren that he will, better than any actual woman, police conventional femininity? With the fact that the article might be mocking the parents who think in this stupid way about their fabulous gay friends, but is probably dripping with self-hate? Because he talks about his status as a qualified counsellor and the experience of growing up gay and isolated, but the quotes from the parents are all about inheritances and taffeta.

My kids have gay actual fathers, as well as, in Secondborn’s case, a gay Oddfather.  Just occasionally, people take my comment that one of Firstborn’s dads is much better at plaiting her hair than I am, and run with it. Gay men have such flair for these things, don’t they? I bet she’ll have lovely clothes as she grows up. They’re sorely disappointed when I point out that he works in tech support and keeps  a pile of What Car magazine in the downstairs toilet. Not to mention that he’s a good feminist ally.

I still have a shred of hope that this is a belated April Fool or, perhaps more likely, that all of the Guardian weekend supplements have been infiltrated by performance artists literally making a mockery of liberal Middle England. If not, I’ll get back to you when I’ve finished bashing my head off the wall.

(I can’t, in all seriousness, actually manage to write “hat tip”, but I got the link and a healthy dose of articulate rage from the fabulous Glitzfrau.)


2 Responses to Inheritances and taffeta

  1. […] eye for your child? Rebel Raising explains how people are going more than a little stupid with their stereotypes of gay […]

  2. glitterboy1 says:

    Ugh. I had the article open in a tab, from when glitzfrau mentioned it, but I hadn’t got round to reading it until just now.

    Maybe it’s meant to be lightly self-mocking, but actually, it makes me feel a bit dirty.

    Fortunately, I have that photo of First- and Secondborn by my desk, and a clear enough idea of Oddfatherhood to work with. It doesn’t involve taffeta.

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