ungodlily 
I remember the first time we talked with our son about the word “queer”. We were on our way to the Rainbow Families Conference (yes, we were still trying to be Super Gay 24/7 then) and I asked if anyone had ever used the word at school. He was 6 at the time and he said, “Yeah. This kid was rolling dice at people and, when the number came up, he’d tell people they were that percent queer.”
I had the following thoughts and will not admit the order in which I had said thoughts:
1. That is ridiculous and wrong.
2. Why didn’t he ever mention this to us?
3. By this method, the most anyone could be is 12% queer and that is so sad.
I asked him why he had never mentioned this incident and he said, “Well, it was annoying but we dealt with it. We told him he couldn’t use that word.”
“We” was him and a friend in class who also has two moms.
He then said, “Can I use that word?” He asked because he’d heard both Luisa and I use it. It was the first time we talked to him about reclaiming language and intentions and context. It was also the first time we touched on the idea that, regardless of his sexual preference, he is growing up culturally queer.
Both of our kids are getting older now and their cultural queerness comes through more often.
The language they both use is inclusive and they make no assumptions about any of their friends’ crushes. Boys or girls – it doesn’t matter to them. They talk about “gender expression” and “coming out” and this is part of their cultural experience.
A couple of weeks ago, Miguel was adjusting his hat and said, “Can you tell if this is straight?” I said, “Nothing ever looks straight to me.” It wasn’t my best work but he turned, looked directly at me and laughed. He said, “I get it. Pretty funny.” That was high praise coming from him.
This is new territory – inside jokes.
About a week after my straight joke, we were all arguing about what type of pasta to have for dinner. Miguel and I prefer penne and Luisa and Zeca prefer spaghetti or “line pasta” as Zeca calls it. That night, Miguel and I were arguing for penne for reasons related to texture and wanting to really chew something and Luisa and Zeca were fighting for line pasta based on the belief that we had had penne more recently than spaghetti.
Yes, we really do fight about stupid things like this.
We were at an impasse and Miguel said, “This family doesn’t do anything straight. We should definitely go with penne. Get it? Because we are a gay family?”
I laughed and gave him a high five, “Yeah. I get it. Pretty funny.”
We had penne that night.
Queer culture – it’s what’s for dinner.
Tag your pics #villageq to be included in the family album at 
Your posts make me wish I’d grown up with two moms. And I’d like to state for the record that I’m firmly on the penne side, but only because I’m less likely to spill.
Penne for the win!
And when giving directions it is always gayly forward and never straight. Come on, that deserves a high five, no?
High five! I have a friend who takes it a little TOO far though…when she plays yahtzee, it’s a small queer and a large queer rather than straights. I draw the spaghetti there.
Were I on the side of spaghetti, I would have pointed out that when cooked, there’s no pasta more bent.
But your family sounds amazing!
Good point. Glad no one made that argument. Mmmm…penne…
Wow, that is a beautiful joke he made. And it’s beautiful, the comfort and “duh”-ness (not a word, but I hope it makes sense) that’s underneath it.
I don’t think we’re quite at the inside joke level yet (mine are 6 & 8 yrs), but I totally corroborate the utter nonchalance with which our kids include either/or option when they talk about sweeties or grown-up partners (who seem always to be cast in either a “husband “or a “wife”).
But last night, as I was cuddling with my daughter (the 8 yr old one), she made reference to something about her sweetie when she would be grown up. She said (kind of surprising me with the specificity) “I don’t know yet whether I’m going to be lesbian or gay or straight when I grow up.”
I replied with the truth: “It doesn’t matter to me or Mama what you wind up being when you grow up. So long as you are SUPER SUPER PICKY.”
To which she chuckled a whole lot. Maybe our first inside joke.
Super picky is very important. I should revisit that lesson.
Points for teaching that humor is an integral part of queer culture. I’m sending out a high five for that. Keep up the good work.
And people say lesbians have no sense of humor…
May I hire you to be my nextdoor neighbor?
Is that a paying gig? If so, I’ll do it!
Pays in produce from our garden all summer, all access trampoline pass for all ages, free house watching when you are out of town, cups of missing ingredients when you come up short halfway through a recipe, childcare when the need arises, and an audience that understands and appreciates your jokes. Does that count?