Over fish and chips and a floral tablecloth, my grandparents and I talked about marriage equality
I feel loved by my grandparents and know they love me and my two mums unconditionally, but as we approach the survey on marriage equality, I am unsure how they will be voting.
My hesitancy stems from a history that stretches long before Liz and Donna decided to have me. My grandmother grew up on a farm in the 1940s in Queensland in a town riddled with homophobia and with little exposure to diverse subcultures. It’s a place where the word “fag” is a common colloquialism. At age 21, my mother Donna came out as a lesbian to my grandmother. My grandmother was shocked and devastated and lovingly offered her psychiatric treatment. 32 years on, my grandmother and stepgrandfather (although not related by blood, he is absolutely my grandfather) are accepting of my parents’ sexuality, but at bingo they still don’t talk about “gays”, and certainly not in relation to their own family unless directly asked about it. It’s not exactly a secret, but they would never willingly offer the information that their daughter is a lesbian or that their granddaughter was raised by lesbians for fear of social exclusion or judgement.
When pondering what boxes their pens will be ticking, I realise that the only time I have ever shifted a core opinion is when someone I cared for opened a safe space for me to expand my thinking, and took the time to respectfully explain another point of view.
So recently I went for lunch with my grandparents.
Over fish and chips and a floral tablecloth, we had a conversation about the postal survey. I listened to how my grandparents felt about the vote, about my mother coming out as a teenager and about the feminine man at the local bakery in Mackay who made exceptional sponge cake. We gently explored why some gay couples might identify as “butch” or “femme”, about my grandfather’s concern about children being raised in families like ours ( “other” families – they know I am ok), about what they love about traditional marriage and this crazy rapidly evolving world we live in, that has changed so much since they were young. Only then did I offer my personal reflections on why equality is important to me and why I need those I love to stand by me at this time. It was a beautiful, connected conversation.
Our world is full of contradictions. Over the last few years in this fight for equality I have been dumbstruck by humans and their incredible ability to separate personal experience from ingrained prejudice. How can my own relatives love their daughter yet hide her sexuality from their closest friends? While we were campaigning in Canberra with Gayby Baby, I met a political advisor working for a Liberal MP who opposed marriage equality, and who was taking leave to get married overseas where it’s legal. And then there was the journalist who took the time to tell a 12 year old child of gay parents that she would never be normal because of their parents’ sexuality. While this road we are travelling, paved with irony and absurdity, can block my view that all people are innately “good”, right now, we have to revive our sense of generosity and create spaces where mutual understanding can breathe.
I believe that marriage equality will be won through the openness and willingness of our communities and allies to engage in meaningful conversations with those that have divergent opinions on this issue.
So yeah, have a cuppa with someone in your life who may not yet be comfortable with voting yes and listen to them.
When we got to the end of lunch, I asked my grandmother if there was anything she felt she had gained from having a lesbian daughter. She looked at me and said quite simply, “You… And that’s why I’ll be voting
yes.”
Maya Newell has made awardwinning short documentaries and has directed Growing Up Gayby (2013) and Gayby Baby (2015)
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