Kergan Edwards-Stout's Blog, page 28

My Parents are So Gay

Thanks to the great folks at It's Conceivable for their nice interview with me on parenting.  For any LGBT folks considering kids, their site has a lot of terrific information and first person stories about parenthood.

Kergan and Russ

By Kendra   August 20, 2011 · No comments

Adoption, They Did It · Tagged: Adoption, California, featured, Featured Feature, foster care adoption, private agency adoption, single parenting, they did it, two dads

Kergan and Russ are adoptive parents to two boys in Orange County, CA. Mason,11, was adopted through a private agency, and Marcus, 9, was adopted through foster care. In 2011, Kergan was named one of HRC's Fathers of the Year.

Name: Kergan Edwards-Stout

Partner's Name: Russ

Age: 46

Hometown/City: Orange, CA

Number of Children: 2

Names of Children: Mason (11), Marcus (9)

When did you decide you wanted children?

I'd always known, even as a kid, that I would be a dad someday. I've always connected well with children–often better than with adults!

As I grew older, the desire to parent became even stronger. I considered it at various points in my life, but after settling down with my now-ex partner, we decided we were ready to parent through a private adoption.

When our son Mason was a year and a half, however, we broke up. I parented as a single dad for the next two years, until meeting my partner Russ. We went on to fost-adopt for our second child, Marcus.

How did you decide to either biologically have a child or adopt a child?

I never considered surrogacy. While I understand the desire some people have to biologically connect with their offspring, there are just too many kids out there who need homes now for me to seriously consider any other option.

Did you share your journey with your family and friends? If so, have they been supportive? I've always been open of my desires to parent, so my family and friends were well aware. Still, when it came time for my first son to be born, and that he would be African American, there were a few issues which arose. Both of my parents are from the South, and very religious conservatives. We'd worked through most of the "gay" issues, but this situation brought up racial issues as well.

I'm happy to report, though, that once my son was born, all issues disappeared. It is one thing to have intellectual prejudices, but they are no competition for having a real live infant in your arms. My folks are now amazing grandparents.

What are some of the challenges you've faced raising children as a gay man? How have you overcome those challenges and what advice would you give new parents in a similar situation?

We've had remarkably few issues related to our sexuality, and we live in fairly conservative Orange County. I can count on one hand the number of odd looks we've gotten. I think that is because we are a blended, transracial family, and couldn't hide even if we wanted to. I make it a point to get involved with the boys school and often serve as Room Parent. I want others to see that we lead similar lives, and really there is not much difference between us.

I do notice, however, that our circle of friends has changed a lot. While we do have some LGBT friends, we seem to connect more with other families with kids–and that usually means straight parents. Many of our gay friends, while supportive of us having children, have stepped back a bit from our lives. Whether that is because they don't connect with kids or understand our desire to parent, or because they live a more spontaneous social life, I'm not sure…

The issues we've faced have, for the most part, been the same others with kids face. Trying to maintain time for yourself when the focus is on the kids. Ensuring they do well in school. The challenge of balancing work/family/life.

While I do anticipate we'll face more issues as the kids get older and have to deal with anti-gay taunts, they're currently in elementary school, so we haven't gotten to that point yet. But we constantly talk about cultural differences and the need to respect others, even if sometimes that respect is not returned. So hopefully they'll be prepared.

What do you wish you would have known before you started?

Given that this was a longstanding goal of mine, I had done a ton of research prior to parenting. I'd gone to parenting conferences, joined the Pop Luck Club in Los Angeles, attended Maybe Baby classes, and used to regularly babysit my infant nephew, so felt pretty prepared for parenting.

The hardest part was when my then-partner and I split up. I had envisioned we'd parent together, and had quit my job to be a fulltime stay-at-home dad. So the readjustment into being a single dad, and having to go back to work while also managing to raise a baby–not to mention dating–was a real challenge.

What was your biggest setback in the process?

Both adoptions were incredibly easy, with no setbacks. For Mason, his private adoption was very smooth, even though we lived in California and he was born in Tennessee. We connected with his birth mom through our social worker, and formed a great rapport. We flew to be there in the delivery room on the day he was born, even cutting the cord.

My only issue with his adoption was the discrepancy in Tennessee law versus California. In Tennessee, two men cannot be listed on the birth certificate. And as we were all under my then-partner's insurance, only his name is listed on the birth certificate. Which is a bit of an issue at times, given that I have primary custody.

With Marcus, he was adopted at age 2 from the foster care system. His parental rights had already been terminated, so there were no complications. However, he had numerous medical conditions from both being born with club feet and poor nutrition, which had to be addressed immediately. He is now a really vibrant and active 9 year-old.

What was the funniest thing that happened along the way?

While not related to the adoption process, on the day of my 35th birthday, while changing then three-month old Mason, projectile poop flew out, landed on a space heater and burst into flames. Which seems a very apt analogy for parenting. No matter how valiant our efforts, poop sometimes happens.

Did you ever consider giving up?

No way. Our kids are the best thing I've ever done.

How has your life changed during this process? Before having kids and after having kids?

Our kids have taught me much about patience, which is an ongoing lesson. And every day their love fuels me, giving me the power to get through the day. I can't imagine life without them.

I think the biggest change was just going from having few responsibilities, to having many. We don't have the flexibility, or the money, to just jet off for the weekend, as so many of our gay friends do. We have to plan ahead. And it is only now, as the kids are older and can play without the same degree of supervision, that I am finding time for myself. I put my writing on hold for many years, as my focus was solely on them, but it's been rewarding to rediscover my creative side.

How much did you budget for the process? How much did the process cost?

These two adoptions were dramatically different. Mason's private adoption was incredibly expensive, at roughly $30,000, given two states, travel, etc. Now, in addition to that, there were other costs with my second-parent adoption, which was the process in California at the time. (It has since changed and is much easier.) I won't even get into the legal fees since my ex and I split!

For Marcus, the fost-adopt process was barely $500 out-of-pocket, and the state gives a monthly stipend, as well as Medi-Cal, until the child is 18, so it was definitely the more reasonable financial option.

How/Will you prepare your children to answer questions about their biological parent(s)?

Our kids are fully aware of their heritage and backgrounds, and we talk freely about their situations, in an age-appropriate manner. As they get older, we give them more and more information, as needed, for them to fully understand their life story. And, depending on their desires and age, we are prepared for them to have some form of safe contact with their birth families.

Would you be willing to share the name of the agency/other resources you used and why?

As far as the attorneys we used, I didn't find any one to be much better than the other. They all got the job done, and charged excessive fees to do so.

For an adoption agency, I would highly recommend the Kinship Center. It is a non-profit and handles both private and fost-adopt. They give monthly informational seminars, which are very helpful for getting first-timer questions answered. They are also incredibly LGBT-friendly. At my first parenting class, which was held in an area I could consider fairly "redneck", I was surprised to walk in and find that over half of the class were LGBT! They walked me effortlessly through the entire process–I can't speak highly enough of them!

Any other advice, comments, or misc. wisdom about the gay parenting process?

I think that it needs to be more clear to people that parenting is not for everyone. Sometimes, I've seen LGBT people end up parenting because, as our rights expand state-by-state, they feel like it is the next step, or it is somehow a "trendy" thing to do, given the media coverage. But parenting is not something to be entered into lightly. It is incredibly hard, draining, and challenging. But it also offers rewards that nothing else in life can match. And for those who are truly up to the task, it is an amazing journey. I count my lucky stars every day for these two phenomenal kids. I am blessed.

Kergan Edwards-Stout is an award-winning director, screenwriter, and author, having recently completed his debut novel, Songs for the New Depression. He is honored to have been named one of the Human Rights Campaign's 2011 Fathers of the Year, and blogs regularly at www.kerganedwards-stout.com .

Aw, Shucks!

I am overwhelmed by the terrific review Songs for the New Depression just received from Kirkus, and am excited to announce that it will be published in October.  I can't wait!  It's hard to have had something gestating for over 12 years and not be able to share it, but that time is coming, and I am thankful for your support!

Kirkus Discoveries:

"Edwards-Stout's engaging debut introduces sassy, outspoken Gabe Travers, a sarcastically witted, near-40, Southern California guy whose homosexuality 'has never been an issue' and whose particular fondness for Paris, France, and Bette Midler has carried him through some of life's more challenging episodes (the book's title is from Midler's 1976 song collection).

Told from Travers' first-person perspective, the story moves in reverse, chronicling his death in the first pages before moving to his adult life struggling with HIV and on to his adventuresome youth. Edwards-Stout excels at characterization, cleverly arming his plucky protagonist with a contagious combination of wit and droll self-deprecation. Travers skillfully navigates each stage of his life, from a young, spirited gay man to a paranoid adult whose mortality hinges on the dormancy of a fatal virus, all the while keeping his pride and wry sense of humor remain beautifully intact.

Drawn from his experiences as an AIDS caregiver and the surviving partner of an AIDS victim, Edwards-Stout infuses reality and hopefulness into a bittersweet story about compassion and personal growth. A distinctively entertaining gay novel written with moxie and bolstered by pitch-perfect perspectives."

Charles Perez has No Shame

I first met Charles Perez over 20 years ago, in the late 1980′s, through a mutual friend. I couldn't get over how smart, well-spoken, and passionate he was about politics and culture, and he looked like a million bucks to boot.  I remember biking along the beach with him one day, when he suddenly asked why he and I had never dated.  I think I must have blushed crimson red, and probably blamed it on the sun.

Since then, Charles has worked in broadcast journalism, as a news anchor in both New York and Miami, as host of American Journal, as contributor to The Huffington Post and The Advocate, and even had his own syndicated talk show named, quite aptly, The Charles Perez Show.  He's lived a fascinating life, and chose to chronicle it all in his book, Confessions of a Gay Anchorman.[image error]

It is an eye-opening read, getting the inside scoop on what it is like to be gay in the clubby world of broadcast news, where — ironically — image is more valued than truthfulness.

Charles found himself caught between his professional and personal desires, and the tale of how these two collided, and the road he has traveled since, makes for a compelling story.  Filled with star cameos, Confessions pulls no punches, as Charles shares how his journey and struggles led to a battle with identity and esteem issues, as well as alcoholism, which at the time seemed insurmountable.  Today, Charles has found great happiness.  He and his partner, Keith Rinehart, married in 2009, and last year adopted a beautiful baby girl.

And on top of all this, as a result of his journey, Charles put his beliefs into action, creating the No Shame Project, with the goal being to eradicate shame for those growing up LGBT.

"It's no longer acceptable to bully someone, reject someone or to fire someone just for being gay," he says. "Kids are killing themselves because someone taught them that being gay is so bad, so shameful, that death is a preferable alternative. That has to end."

"There is No Shame in being gay," he says. "Let's make gay okay."

I wholeheartedly agree.

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Hope Springs Internal

After writing recently about my current state of mind (here and here), it occurred to me that I needed to update it.  While recent months have seen a haze settle over me, it seems that my mood is starting to turn, ever-so-slightly, back towards my usually optimistic self.  This change is due partly to situation, but is partly caused by choice.

By nature, through the years I've learned to shelter myself.  Whether from family drama (turning inward), or simply in gaining the ability to not sweat the small stuff, I rarely fall into funks.  And when I recently found myself in the middle of a depressive state, I chose to let it linger.  After all, we need to pay attention to what our emotions are telling us — simply brushing unpleasant things aside doesn't do anyone any good.

While this funk hung on for a while, I began to feel a shift a week or so ago, as momentum has increased with my book's pending publication.  Something about having a deadline helps immensely in helping us create change.

And with this deadline, every free moment of mine has been spent trying to create change for myself, for the better.  Whether it has been in compiling lists for promotional activities, or planning a book launch party, trying to get in shape for my book jacket photo, or making sure the manuscript is as close to perfect as possible, it has all served to help instill in me the belief that things are changing, for the better.  And the key here is that no one else has helped in creating change — it all came from within.

But at a certain point, I realized that as even though my efforts were helping to ease the funk, the fog had not lifted entirely.  The choice, finally, was up to me.  Do I wallow in self-pity, or take stock of all the good in my life and make the firm decision to be happy?

While "choosing to be happy" might seem impossible to some (and for some with truly great issues, it may very well be), I believe that we alone control our ultimate state of being.  True, we need to feel the emotions as they occur, honor them, letting them resonate, but we also need to be aware when they begin to linger too long, leading to an unhealthy state of being.

And so, today, I've decided to be happy.  It's all about the attitude, after all.

I think it is going to be a great day.  How about you???

Origins

Over 12 years ago, I was struck by a sudden, random thought, and wrote down the following: James Baldwin once wrote that Americans lack a sense of doom, yet here I stand.

At the time, I didn't know what I was writing, who the character was, where the story would go, or even where the inspiration came from. Today, that line is the first sentence of the prelude in my new book, Songs for the New Depression.

Where in my subconscious did that line originate? And what made me write it down?

While I still don't know the answers to those questions, whenever I have said that line to myself, the voice I heard speaking it was that of my deceased partner, Shane Michael Sawick. The voice was somewhat cynical, funny, smart — the ultimate New Yorker. There was a bravado to it; a confidence that I know he didn't always feel.

I'd read James Baldwin's novel Giovanni's Room back in college, and the concept he laid out, that Americans lack a sense of doom, stuck with me. And while that may be the case for many Americans, I feel quite differently.  Having watched so many die from AIDS, including Shane, I feel like I know doom all too well.

Songs for the New Depression is about a man facing imminent death, looking back at the choices he has made — or didn't make — which have lead to his current state.  And whether subconsciously or not, my book shares many elements with Giovanni's Room:  in both books, key sections take place in Paris, the lead characters are gay men struggling with questions of "how to live", and death is never far from either story.

Somehow, over the course of several years, what had originated as a singular thought mixed through my own experiences, morphing into a full novel, which will be published in October.

Check out this new trailer, which gives a taste of the flavor of the opening prelude, and you'll see how that simple sentence took root and grew, finally becoming Songs for the New Depression.  (Coming soon to a fine bookseller near you!)

9/11: Loss of Friendship, Gaining Empathy

As we approach this tragic anniversary, I thought I'd reprint a post I wrote the week that Osama bin Laden was killed.  The memories of Dan, Ron, and David are forever with me…

Bin Laden Lately?

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was at a charming bed & breakfast in Vermont, learning how to be an innkeeper.  Odd, I know, as that particular occupation had never been part of some long-held vision for myself, but was, rather, a more recent detour.  My then-partner and I had what I'd thought to be the ideal relationship, and had recently adopted a newborn infant son, just the year before.  And while we'd always talked of the possibility of moving to New England, suddenly, with reasons of which I was not yet aware, it became a priority to him, and owning an inn didn't seem like such a bad way to do it.

But as I sat shock-still in front of the TV with my fellow classmates, watching in horror as the second plane hit, I had no idea that the towers were not the only structures in my world that were crumbling.

I tried repeatedly to get in touch with my partner and our son on the West coast, but got no answer.

How is it possible, I wondered, that they would not be home so early in the morning?  Where could he possibly have taken Mason?

All I knew during those first few frightful hours is that I wanted to be — had to be — home with my family.  That was all that mattered.  Family came first.

Gratefully, the inn-keeping class was brought to an abrupt close, and I found myself on the several hour drive to Burlington, hoping against hope for a flight out.  Listening to the studied calm of NPR, I was grateful for their measured approach, and allowed myself to focus only on the factual.  "As awful as this tragedy is," I thought, irrationally, "at least I don't know anyone involved."

After checking-in to a nondescript Motel 6 and getting situated, I found my way online and finally saw the email.  Our friends Ron Gamboa, Dan Brandhorst, and their young son, David, had been returning home, having just vacationed on the Cape, and were on United Airlines Flight 175, the second plane to hit the World Trade Center.

There are times, even now, when I question whether I have the right to call these three my "friends."  Sure, we'd socialized together, they had been to our house, and we were all members of the same gay dad's group.  Still, did I know them?  Was I privy to intimate details of their lives?  Did we have a "connection"?  How well must you know someone before you can lay claim to friendship?

That we adults were all gay dads gave us a common purpose, as it was rather pioneering at the time.  And I enjoyed Ron's sassy sense of humor; Dan was definitely the "straight arrow" of the two.  When they were alive, I saw them sporadically, but now, in death, they are never very far from my thoughts.   And in many ways I find myself feeling even more connected to them as the years pass.

As I write this, I'm sitting in a hotel room in Boston, a few days after the killing of bin Laden.  As I flew into Logan Airport this afternoon, I was fully aware that Dan, David, and Ron had themselves departed from the same airport on their final flight.  And it was from  Logan that I too had flown home, back to my then-family, just a few days after their deaths. It feels, at times, as if we are destined to keep crossing paths.

Watching the crowds in front of the White House earlier in the week, chanting "USA, USA!" at the news of bin Laden's killing, I found myself wondering if his death is what Ron and Dan would have wanted.  It is, of course, impossible to know, but I can't quite see them applauding, as if this were spectator-sport.

That bin Laden committed evil acts is indisputable.  But we Americans have been taught to view him purely as the villain.  He is hardly the first to have killed in the name of their God.

We have long wanted retribution — I get that.  But what our role in all of this?  What of those in the pulpits every Sunday, cloaking their vile in the mantle of Christ?  Or those who stoke division on TV, purely for ratings and with no regard for real-world consequences?  Or  politicians, who can say the worst things, as long as they're wearing their American flag pins?  Or our go-it-alone foreign policy which, for many years, put us at odds with much of the world?

Surely, bin Laden's death resonates with many, on multiple levels.  Maybe, to some degree, we all desire vengeance, and in movies it's fun to see the bad guys get blown to smithereens.  But this isn't a movie, and his death doesn't make me feel safer; if anything, I feel much less so.  And as happy as I would be to say that his killing gives me some feeling of closure around the death of my friends — and they were, in fact, my friends — it really doesn't.

So, was justice served?  Have we just brought an end to the story, or merely an end to the first chapter?

As I'm about to bring this post to a close, I am struck by another thought. A thought which troubles me:

Just as much as Russ and I love our sons, and just as much as David was loved by Dan and Ron, somewhere out there is Hamida al-Attas, Osama bin Laden's mother, who still lives, and likely grieves the loss of her son.

Family comes first.

And the hardest thing for me, when my family has been threatened or harmed, is to have a generous heart.  But I'm trying.

For a great tribute to David and his family, please read:

http://hammeringsparksfromtheanvil.blogspot.com/2006/09/in-honor-of-david-reed-gamboa.html