Men In Our Life, The

Off Our Backs, Sep/Oct 2004 by Witherow, Judith K

On August 21, 2004 my partner Sue and I will celebrate our 28th anniversary. During this time we raised three boys-now our three men. Over the years the family has grown and now includes two daughters-in law and four grandchildren: two boys and two girls. Two of the grandchildren are teenagers. The teens know about our sexual orientation. It was their parents' choice to discuss it with them. The younger ones are in grade school. To them we are just Grandmother and Grandmother Sue. Lesbians as grandmothers-what a concept!

In the mid-seventies my three young sons and I exited a ten-year marriage. The house was sold and the money was divided equally between the ex and myself. The court thought it was the fair thing to do. The fact that the boys would insist on eating, wearing clothes and growing had no bearing on the case. At the time money was not the main issue. I just knew that living a lie had to come to an end for my sake as well as the boys'. Escalating violence made the decision one that was not only easy, but necessary for our survival.

With some of the money I rented an apartment with a six-month lease. The apartment was the type where money was more important than references. This was to our advantage because when your work references pre-date ten years, not many people will take a chance on a single woman with children. While we were married, my spouse did not want me to work outside the home. He thought I might find another man. That would have made two men I didn't want to live with.

The housing was rough and the boys were targeted by many of the kids who lived in the same complex. It was a rare day when they dodged a beating. They were naïve in a lot of ways. They gave away, or had physically taken, almost everything they once owned.

When you raise boys with feminist sensibilities they are not always able to cope with the realities of life. As women, we still struggle with these problems. As a feminist I didn't understand any other way to raise them that I thought was acceptable. I still wonder if what they were taught hurt or helped more than we could have imagined. Perhaps being raised by women caused them to be different in the way they perceive life. I love their gentle sides and wouldn't want it any other way. It is a natural part of life for them. One that couldn't be changed if we even understood how.

Before the six months lease expired we decided that apartment living wasn't working out. It was time to rent a house. The boys needed a space where they were free to thrive outside the confines of an apartment where nature was becoming a distant memory.

After an exhaustive search we found an affordable house and made an appointment with the realtor. We impressed upon the boys how important this was to all of us. We warned them that they might hear a lie or two being told. Not necessarily would it be from the realtor's mouth, but that was also a possibility.

I went against everything in my nature and decided to wear a dress. When Sue and I walked down the hallway I absent-mindedly thought to myself how handsome the boys looked standing side by side. Out of Number Two Son's mouth came a string of words 1 will always remember. "You go right back in there and change," he demanded. "If you think we are going anywhere with you in a dress, think again. No way are we walking to the car with you and having everyone make fun of us."

(It never occurred to me that they would be as uncomfortable as 1 was seeing me in a dress. They were used to their mother wearing jeans and t-shirts.)

The entire time this unbelievable ouiburst was occurring, Sue was saying, "Your mother looks beautiful. Look how beautiful your mother looks." No one was listening. I looked at Oldest Eleven Year Old Son. Tears were rolling silently down his face. My next look was towards the Four Year Old youngest Son. He was exhibiting his usual "Is there a problem here," look. Their response was something we had not foreseen. I did my arm-waving, voice-raised, "What do you mean telling me anything about anything," Mother Routine. Mistake number two occurred during this event. Middle Son discovered that I'd shaved my armpits and he lost it in a big way. He threatened every seven-year-old threat he could think of-including telling the realtor the truth. I reminded him how much bigger I was, and that getting over on him would take little effort.

We drove to the office. The back seat of the car was filled with a silence that I thought only duct tape could achieve. Their behavior caused me to contemplate wearing dresses more often. 1 would save it as the ultimate threat. I knew they thought I was tough, but who would have thought they'd think I'd become a "hairless armpit-weenie" in a dress?

As the Goddess would have it, this was the first house the realtor had ever rented. We were strong. We were invincible. We were the proud renters of a shotgun shack.

But it didn't last; renting the house only lasted for one year. While we were away on vacation, it caught fire and burned.