Vince Sgambati, a long-time LGBT activist and a former teacher and staff developer of thirty years, writes a column about LGBT parenting called Vince’s View. His parenting articles have also appeared nationally in LGBT magazines. His essays have been published in the anthology Queer and Catholic (Routledge) and more recently in the Journal of GLBT Family Studies. Vince has also written a contemporary fiction manuscript, set in the eleventh hour of Italian-American urban life.
Mazel Tov
Before the close of 2009, my family will have attended six Bar Mitzvahs and one Bat Mitzvah. No, we’re not Jewish, but––as the saying goes––some of my best friends are. I was raised Catholic and my coming-of-age ritual was Confirmation––pre-Vatican ll. For those of you who aren’t Catholic (and old), that was a time when little Catholic children suffered gruesome deaths if they accidentally ate a hot dog on a Friday, thought ejaculations were prayers one mumbled after confession, and nodded convulsively like bobblehead dolls whenever they uttered the name of Jesus––which was often. All I remember about my Confirmation were nuns making clacking noises, Mary Catherine lifting her navy blue pleated skirt to show me the elastics holding up her stockings, and the crush I had on Rocco Conti. Of course, there was also the Bishop’s slap and being told that I was a “Soldier of Christ.” This was before Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.
Confirmation has come a long way since then––those to be confirmed are older, training is more rigorous and relevant and community service is required. However, I wish neither to evaluate the secular or religious significance of Confirmation nor compare it to Bar Mitzvah, but simply to recognize the coming-of-age aspect of the latter––the celebration of the child standing at the threshold of adulthood. From my queer layman perspective: “Today you are a star.” And in those turbulent adolescent years of being told most everything you do is wrong, how wonderful to have a day that you are held up by your community as someone unique and precious and listened to.
For me, the most meaningful part the ceremony is the D’var Torah: the child (soon to be an adult) finds personal meaning in his Torah portion and shares it with his community––in a way, teaching his own Torah. Two of the Bar Mitzvahs I’ve attended this year were for boys I’ve known and loved since they were babies. I was overwhelmed by their critiques of present-times through the lens of ancient text and of ancient text through the lens of present-times.
So it was with this rather sentimental mindset that I attended Family Week in Provincetown this past summer––my family’s thirteenth. Mona was ten months old when we first attended Family Week where hundreds of LGBT families find community. This summer, Mona took part in COLAGE* workshops and roamed Commercial Street with friends she once eyed from the safety of her stroller or clinging to Jack’s or my hand. Actually, she screamed most times we strapped her in a stroller, but you get the idea.
The tribe of twelve to fourteen year olds didn’t all share a similar religion or ethnicity or race, but they were culturally linked, nonetheless. They know firsthand what many of their mainstream peers only read about in history books and in scripture: the challenges of being marginalized and the struggles of individuals and communities to meet such challenges.
At a teen panel where the children of LGBT folks spoke about their experiences and perceptions, one young woman shared that she had recently met her birthmother. She mentioned that the experience was okay––not as earthshaking as she had anticipated. She also mentioned that she couldn’t imagine her life without her adoptive moms, and that she treasured her community––speaking of the other teens on the panel and the parents and young folks sitting in the audience. She’s strongly rooted in an identity formed among families headed by one or more out and proud LGBT adult.
Like this young woman, I believe that Mona is also deeply rooted within this burgeoning community. Last October, for her twelfth birthday she asked school friends and other party guests to make donations to COLAGE in lieu of gifts, and raised $425. She was also asked to write an article for Just For Us, a publication of COLAGE. In the article she makes clear how much attending Family Week and being a part of COLAGE means to her: “The people I see at Family Week have grown with me, and we have all faced the same obstacles. I love them like they are my family. Oh yea! They are.”
During Family Week, Mona was asked to speak at a COLAGE reception. As my soon to be thirteen-year-old daughter spoke, and I watched our beautiful queer families listen and hold her up as someone unique and precious, I thought of D’var Torah. Her words were not in response to the Torah, but they were in response to themes that run through such ancient texts: oppression, liberation, and community. Unless Mona someday chooses to convert to Judaism she will not become a Bat Mitzvah, but last summer, in a hall opening to the pristine coastline of Cape Cod, Mona, at the threshold of womanhood, stood confidently among her peers and elders and spoke of facing challenges, becoming strong and proud, and cherishing her community. Mazel Tov!
*COLAGE is a national movement of children, youth, and adults with one or more lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and/or queer parent/s http://www.colage.org/