I like to visit my child at work. It is a thrift store that raises funds for a queer community health clinic, and they, as a non-binary individual, feel at home there. I like to stop in to offer a ride home at the end of the day, or to buy something to support the mission. But I like to be there mostly just to see Josie in their element: surrounded by co-workers, laughing, sorting through donations or working the cash register and chatting up the customers. I want them to know I will enter these sacred spaces, in support of and because of them. Inevitably someone will ask, “You’re Josie’s mom, aren’t you?!” and I am greeted warmly.
I realize in these moments, when I am able to sneak a peek into my child’s life, that my presence also means acceptance and motherly compassion. And so, before long, I too am laughing and chatting in my element as a mother. These moments are tangible expressions of what I have spent a lifetime learning and teaching: unconditional love. These moments transform us all into sacramental grace: God breaking in with Good News in love. I come here to sneak a peek into my child’s life, and in return I am granted a peek into God’s enduring love and presence in our world.
I am struck by how allyship, like parenting, is a verb. Society easily shifts to verbal forms when talking about parenting or what it means to parent. Parenting takes commitment, making mistakes and yet, persevering out of love for your child. The same is true with being an ally; allying takes commitment, making mistakes and yet persevering out of love for your child (or friend or co-worker or neighbor).
I am struck by how allyship, like parenting, is a verb.
As I thought about being an ally with my children, I focused on specific practices and realized that these practices are also important in parenting. Parenting and being an ally are both verbs I use to describe my life, and as my children grow and blossom, I understand that the ways to parent and ally shift and grow over time too. The basics of these practices remain the same.
- 1. Be willing to learn. As parents we read every book we could get our hands on, like What to Expect When You Are Expecting and others. Doing our homework does not go away, even so many years after being a student in school. Allying means learning core concepts such as the difference between gender and sexuality and becoming familiar with the terms used and why they matter. It’s important to think about your own gender story; how culture, experiences and messages you received in your childhood shaped who you are today. It also means not relying on our children to teach us everything. It’s OK to ask them questions, but start by trying to research it ourselves first.
- 2. Be a listener. When our children were babies, we listened to their cries and attuned ourselves to their patterns, listening for cues because they couldn’t speak. Listening to them today means listening to all they deal with in the world, listening for ways we can learn from and advocate for them and still, as in the early days of their lives, listening for their laughter and fun to remind our hearts of God’s joy in them.
- 3. Be humble. Recognize when you make mistakes; recognize them and own the impact they have. Even if we did not intend to hurt our child, we need to be humble enough to accept that our words or actions have consequences. Humility involves owning the impact of the mistake, apologizing sincerely and learning to shift perspective.
- 4. Be welcoming, accepting and proactive about mental health. Check in on your child’s mental health. Make sure they know they are loved and their friends are accepted too. Our queer children experience marginalization in too many ways, so checking in on them, reaching out when there are tough news cycles and finding ways to celebrate with them are important expressions of care.
The more I reflected on these practices and all that our queer children must navigate, I was reminded by a poster my sister had on her wall that read, “If you were accused of being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to prove it?” I find myself asking what outward evidence I would use to prove my allyship with my children.
Although these [internal practices] are critically important, there need to be outward signs of allyship as well.
The practices I mention above are all internal practices. Although these are critically important, there need to be outward signs of allyship as well. Just like sacramental grace, there need to be outward signs of receiving an inward grace. As much as my love for my children has stirred my heart and challenged me to grow, and as much as my understanding of God’s sacramental grace has allowed me to recognize God in my children and in our love for one another, that growth is not enough if I am not able to show outward signs. In addition to internal allyship practices, below are some external practices of allyship:
- 1. Reach out. Our parish priest mentioned Pride Month in his homily, and I sent him a note of thanks. He commented that he had received several disparaging notes, so it was helpful to get a note of thanks in the mix. Those who speak out publicly in some way in their work—priests from the pulpit, school librarians, shop owners who display a pride flag—all do so with the probability of receiving backlash. Show them support.
- 2. Leverage. Understand how your gender, culture, age, education or economic status might give you privilege or power and learn how to use that power in support of the queer community. Members of the queer community are losing their rights in so many subtle ways. Stay informed of the political landscape and learn how you can advocate for justice. Understand that time and money are both critical things to leverage and the more we confront both interpersonal and systemic biases, the better our world will be.
- 3. Show up. Participate in a protest, a Pride parade, a drag story hour or a queer-friendly business to show your support. Purchase a “banned book” about gender or sexuality to give to your school library. Find ways to celebrate this immensely loving and joyful community. For me, “showing up” takes shape in my writing and teaching. Writing through the lens of being a mother of queer children, diversifying the voices in my syllabi to include queer theologians and supporting queer colleagues across the country are all important to me.
The Oxford dictionary defines ally in its verb sense as: to “combine or unite a resource or commodity with (another) for mutual benefit.” Allyship is something that offers support and resources for our queer community, but it offers mutual benefit in return. The love, pride and joy I feel as I am held close in the lives of my children is an unconditional benefit. Parenting is allyship, and both are like seeds that take patience, time and nurturing cultivation. However, when done intentionally, both come with blessings one hundred-fold.
