Photo credit: BSA Photoagraphy
The recent events which transpired in our country over the racial injustices and oppression towards African Americans breaks my heart. I have been searching for ways to open the crucial dialogue with my girls.
This hits close to home for my family in particular because not only are we two dads raising a family, but we have 3, multi-racial children. Our oldest daughter is half Guatemalan and half Caucasian. Our youngest is Honduran, and our middle child is African American. My heart hurts to see the prejudiced environment my middle child may be especially exposed to as she gets older. I want her to feel as comfortable in her own skin as any white, privileged person is. Though I know it is a difficult goal, my husband and I will do everything in our power to allow her to feel that way every day of her life.
I know racism is a learned behavior. Harboring hate in your heart is terrible, but teaching it to your children is abuse. It cripples the entire human race, and it deteriorates the world.
Growing up in south Mississippi, I was able to easily see how my own father was the most racist and hateful person I had ever met. Lucky enough for me, my mother divorced him when I was a little boy.
Unfortunately, I was already exposed to so much damage from his disgusting hatred. He abused my mom, me, and so many others I can remember. There is no telling how many people he has intentionally tried to destroy.
I endured mental and psychological abuse which stemmed from his temper. I remember how I would feel so defeated as he screamed at me trying to teach me how to ‘tell time’ on my new ‘Transformers’ watch when I was just 6 years old. I still remember that as clear as day. I knew I was never going to be that kind of father.
As I got older he would call me sissy, mama’s boy and queer. That was bad enough, but the things I can recall him saying towards black Americans was just as bad if not worse.
And then, there is the most gut wrenching reason. He has always been an alcoholic and a drug addict. And because of his selfish addictions, I lost my 17 year old brother.
I would also see how he treated his spouses and I knew I would never lay a hand on my partners. Despite being gay, I knew in those early years I would always treat my partner with dignity and respect.
There are things I will unfortunately, never forget. Those early memories taught me the most important lessons of all. They showed me how to NOT live my life. Rather than having my father teach me the RIGHT things to do in the world, I watched him and tried to do the opposite.
As I grew into a teen I figured out one person can change the world. One smile, one open mind, one kind heart. Love can and WILL win in the end. The question is, when?
Well, it starts today. With you, and me.
This morning was a huge moment for my girls. I finally found the way to naturally and comfortably talk about the beauty of our country and what makes it so great.
Back when I was a little boy, there was a movie I loved so much. I remember having the stuffed animal and taking his hat off so I could wear it just like him. I would sing the songs as loud then as we did this morning. However, I didn't realize how deep this movie actually was until I watched it again.
Friends, if there was one movie you NEED to introduce to your kids right now, it is "An American Tail.”
Anyone who knows me or even knows OF me, knows I wear my hat almost all of the time. I owe it to this movie!
I sang one of the songs from this movie to my babies their entire lives. Most importantly, it helps my girls to see what made our country so great.
They were able to see how all over the world people admire America. People come here to escape their own countries when they are being killed and tortured. In America, we have the freedom to speak out when we see things that aren't right. In America, we join together for causes. As one, we hold rallies and protests when we see unfair practices and injustices wherever they may be. In America, we do not back down in the face of fear or intimidation. That is what makes our country so beautiful. It always has been, we just lost sight of it. America has always been great. And do not let anyone tell you it isn’t.
Photo credit: BSA Photoagraphy
Our oldest little girl looked at me during the movie and asked what a “wawwy” was. I knew exactly what she meant. She repeated it exactly as she heard it in the film. I asked her, A rally? And she nodded. I said, ‘Well baby, A rally is like a protest. That is where a group of people come together for the same reason, to demand change.”
“In America, we are allowed to do that. And because of those freedoms, we are able to see the change begin which makes people happy again.” (I tried to simplify it because she is only 4!) Then, she looked at me as that same iconic song came on, and I quietly lost it. I cried as she looked on with a big smile. In that moment, she knew the song she had always heard me sing was from this very movie, and she understood why it was so powerful.
If none of that works for your family, you can always bring out the 'GIANT MOUSE OF MINSK,' filled with fireworks and fury! Okay, maybe not the last part... but I couldn't help but wonder if there was strategic symbolism placed there. Riots and chaos unleashed when there is no other alternative? I don't know. What I do know, today, in this moment... is how I was able to introduce some heavy dialogue to my babies this morning and it was all thanks to this movie.
Parents, go watch "An American Tail" right now with your babies. You'll thank me later.
What can I do to help her in the future? I will always pay attention in public. I never know when some hateful person will crawl out of a dark corner of the world. I will shield her from the barrage of ignorance when I am in control. What I fear most is when my little ‘mocha drop’ goes out into the world alone.
Daddy and Papa won’t be there for every tough moment. But what WILL be there is the confidence and the intelligence to know she is bigger and stronger than any person who tries to tear her down because of her differences. We are all different. It is what makes us all so uniquely beautiful. If some people cannot see that then we will smile and move on and not look back.
I am so blessed to be living in the time that I am. As scary as some moments are, those situations mold our characters to become the resilient humans we are destined to be.
I am the father I am because of the sad and unfortunate circumstances I faced when I was a boy. I am the man I am today so I can raise my babies to be the adults they will grow into tomorrow.
As hours turned to days, I am left with an empty feeling regarding our country.
Is this in part because of the months worth of Covid isolation? Or is it the undeniable racial trimmer that is finally shaking us out of a paralyzed delusion?
What happened to #georgefloyd was WRONG. There is no denying that. There are NO EXCUSES. What happened to him was a rush to judgment and a failure to our country. Again.
Time after time we see this in our African American communities. The cycle of “justified” murder, the dominance over morality, while the rest of us watch the events unfold with our rose colored glasses on.
Folks. It is time to take off the glasses.
Look at what is happening around us.
👏🏻Snap out of it.
If you cannot think to yourself “something is wrong here”... then it may be time to re-evaluate your personal ideals of what it is like to be black in America.
Being white and privileged, it is pretty impossible for us to even comprehend it: to even grasp the magnitude of how heavy this is. It is raw. It is unfair. It is WRONG. On so many levels.
Living down here in New Orleans there is saying that many of us live by. Or at least I do.
You can see signs posted onto random light poles, stop signs and trees. I don’t know where the saying came from. I don’t know how long people have been saying it. “Think that you might be wrong.”
Those 6 words can change our community, our country, our world.
I am a gay, white father to an African American little girl whose sweet smile can brighten the darkest room.
It is also my job to make sure I speak for her.
I want my baby girl to know that her papa wasn’t silent when voices needed to be heard.
I wasn’t complacent when it mattered most.
Y’all, our history will eventually reveal itself.
Racism is alive and it is rampant.
It’s hidden behind badges, uniforms, desks, steering wheels, pulpits, robes, dresses, hospital masks, polo shirts... but worst of all, guns.
The ones who keep us safe here and abroad fight everyday to ensure our way of life. I am indebted to them. We are indebted to them.
But there needs to be accountability when terrible situations unravel into a horrible lapse in judgment. Not only for police, but for anyone that has a civil responsibility to our community.
Anyone that knows me personally knows that ACCOUNTABILITY is crucial in life. That is the only way to change course. Hold people accountable.
Don’t let the looting take your eye off the ball.
That is NOT the bigger picture here.
This happens in any chaotic and civil unrest.
It isn’t the first time and looting will happen again.
Two wrongs do not make a right today, tomorrow or ever.
Do not lose focus on the point up front and center.
There needs to be accountability for MURDER behind a badge.
We had no idea what the world was in for when we started out this particular journey. Adoption is always a very tense and frightening experience. Add a Global Pandemic to the mix and it is terrifying.
COVID-19 has shaken the whole world to it’s core. From one part of the globe to the complete opposite, it has all but stopped life as we know it. This scenario seems all too reminiscent of something that the American South will never forget.
Living in New Orleans, Louisiana we are accustomed to dealing with evacuations and disasters because of hurricane season each year. From June to November, we are on alert constantly. As you can imagine, Hurricane Katrina’s lasting effects really taught us how to deal with disaster prep along with the aftermath.
When Coronavirus first appeared on our radar here in New Orleans, I was personally shaken. Not only for me, but for my family. My husband is a physician at one of the main hospitals here in the city. Our 2 daughter’s are ages 4 and 2 and I stay at home with them. They go to nursery school for a few hours during the week but for most of the time I am at home with them. When the public schools closed down as did most of the nurseries along with everything else.
Many people through the years have asked me what it was like to experience Hurricane Katrina.
There really has not been an event equivalent to compare it to. That is, until now.
As that giant storm churned towards us 15 years ago everyone panicked and prepped as fast as they possibly could. Pandemonium and fear spread through New Orleans just like this virus has. The only difference is today, there isn't devastating winds or floods. Instead, it was stocking up on whatever you could so you wouldn’t have to leave your home.
I watched other countries very closely before this virus was found here in Louisiana. I saw the panic in the streets and the death that came behind it. I knew I needed to act then before the greedy would buy everything in sight.
I am a planner and I like to be in control. I think that is partly why I feel like I do at the moment. I literally planned our family’s next moves over a week before mandated ‘stay home’ orders were given. While people were calling me "Chicken Little", I made sure that we had everything we could possibly need. Well, except for one major life changing variable.
Our son was to be born within the next two weeks in the middle of this nightmare. My husband and I frantically tried to complete his nursery and buy the essential items from the hardware stores before our ‘lock down’ order was issued.
Along with prior preparations of food and essential items for the family, I felt it was also important to get the necessary items for the new baby. I feared that with panic stricken people buying up everything in sight along with the essential baby care items, I just knew we would be under mandated closures when he was born so I bought the diapers and baby formula weeks ahead of time. I really felt like I was in front of this thing. I planned. I was ready. And then my husband told me how bad the virus had actually gotten.
It was like the winds shifted. It was apparent that COVID-19 was about to strangle New Orleans.
Each day that went by more and more people were diagnosed. We saw this in Italy, and in New York City. But those places were much bigger than New Orleans. All of a sudden people were dying in numbers that doubled from the day before. Hundreds became thousands that were infected. It quickly was obvious that New Orleans and the state of Louisiana was the new epicenter for this outbreak. Hospitals were inundated. Especially the hospital my husband works at. Ventilators were almost depleted in the matter of a weeks time. Face masks were disappearing. Eye shields and gloves were almost gone.
P.P.E. (personal protective equipment) suddenly were rationed and in many cases disappeared or was extremely hard to come by. Local news reported that faculty were told to reuse face masks and even sterilize them so they could continue fight this battle, even without armor. Grown men are breaking down. Douglas has always been my voice of reason. When I get to hyped up, he is always there to calm me down. When I started my rants about Coronavirus this one time he didn't stop me. Or be the devil's advocate. Even when friends and family made it seem like I was over reacting in the beginning, Douglas listened to me. One conversation we had right after COVID-19 started to spread rapidly here in the city I will never forget. We were finishing up the baby's nursery one night when I told him that watching the images coming out of Italy and they were highly alarming and at the rate it was spreading it seemed impossible that it couldn't happen here. Waiting for him to correct me, instead his eyes got big. He got quiet. Which he does this so he can collect his thoughts. Then he said, "there is nothing we can do. The box has been opened and it cannot go back in. This will be the next pandemic. Most of us will get this virus. And if we all don't get it, we will personally know someone that has had it or has died from it. Lock downs will not stop it. Our hospitals will become overwhelmed. There is nothing we can do."
I was shocked. He always is optimistic. He is the yin to my yang. But that night, it was brutal honesty. And twelve hours later, the World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a pandemic.
That is when the tides started turning and that ominous silence fell when I walked outside. I was SHOOK. But I had to keep my cool for my family. My girls depend on me. On us. They can't see my fear. All of a sudden I am now their teacher every day along with being 'Papa'. I try keep it fun and new. I print out activities and educational things to keep their minds learning. I research arts and crafts for them to make. And then we go outside and play with different things every day so this isolation doesn't get so monotonous.
Then it was like my heart stopped. Douglas told me that the the main hospital was running low on manpower. Some started to get sick. And some were just overwhelmed by the tsunami of patients coming that were sick. This whole time I had been so thankful for him being a psychiatrist resident during this viral circus. Then, he told me. The Dean had started pulling residents from other specialties to fight this virus on the front lines in the Emergency Department. It didn't matter what specialty. He wanted 'all men on deck.' My heart sank into my stomach. I felt ill. Sure, I get it. He is a doctor. That is what you signed up for. But let me stop you. No. That is not what he signed up. He had a calling to help the mentally ill and the addicts from drugs and alcohol get sober, get off the street, clean up and lead a productive life. Fighting in the epicenter of this pandemic without proper equipment can be a death sentence. I would absolutely feel more incline for him to help if I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had the life saving P.P.E. that he needs to stay healthy. He needs it and WE NEED IT. As the hours ticked by my anger grew. I like to be in control. I quickly saw that we were spiraling into a tail spin that couldn't be stopped.
Just as I started to feel hopeless, our phone rang. My mouth dropped to the floor. Our birth mother was in labor! Douglas quickly rushed her to the hospital. After examining her they admitted her. We had been threw this before time and time again with our previous birth mother. I just knew that she was going to be sent home. But this time proved to be different. They told Douglas that he was allowed to stay the night but unfortunately, due to Coronavirus, I had to stay at home.
Last night, Douglas got to stay with the birth mother at her hospital and officially go on "paternity leave" for over a month! For me, it was almost like he was rescued from being thrown into the front lines of a massacre. An unforeseen force directed us into a perfectly beautiful scenario just as hopelessness gripped our future while the walls were closing in all around us. Then came Shane.
Our baby boy was born last night at 11:36 pm weighing in at 7 lbs 6 oz. He is the most beautiful boy I have ever seen. Although I have yet to hold him. Smell him. See him. It is now 10:43pm the following day and Douglas should be home in about an hours time. I am ecstatic. In this very moment I feel so peaceful and happy. Yes, right now, the world outside terrifying. But our hearts are overjoyed, filled with euphoric gratitude and blessed beyond belief.
Photo Credit: BSA Photography.com
Sharp turns in life can rock you. Unspeakable pain and heartbreak can make us feel like we are being ripped apart from the inside out. Oftentimes those turns in life’s twisted road can appear out of nowhere with little to no warning. In a way, it is almost like hydroplaning in a vehicle. Losing complete control of where you are going which sometimes leaves you in a terrifying tail spin.
Back in 2003, when I lost my brother at the beginning of the opioid epidemic, I was shattered. My whole family was. He was barely 17 years old and his entire life was stolen from him and from us. There are no words to articulate the immense pain we felt. All of a sudden our lives seemed bleak and broken.
If you have felt that magnitude of pain, you know exactly what I am talking about. The emptiness and confusion about where life was going at that point will never leave me.Those desperate emotions during the bleakest moments help me stay humble and focused. They remind me of how fragile life truly is and how none of us are promised tomorrow. Many won’t get that last phone call to hear, “I love you.” Some will say “good morning” to loved ones having no idea they will never have the chance to say “good night” again.
If I could just see Shane one more time, I would cherish every second. I would tell him all the things I had planned to say later in life. I would punch his shoulder and then hug him tighter than I ever had before.
You see, it’s easy to think back on those missed out opportunities after they are gone. What are we doing today to let them know while they are here? Are we too embarrassed to be that vulnerable and emotional? Will they see us as weak? Would they laugh? Well if they are anything like my brother Shane was, he absolutely would giggle at me being such a mush. But then he would say, “Me too, Erik. Me too.”
It took years for me to realize this but, we will see the ones we miss so much again after their passing. Although, it may not be the way we would prefer. My dreams I have of my brother don’t come too often, but when they do, they are as real as I could have ever hoped. At first, I would cry my eyes out after I woke up wishing it wasn’t a dream. I finally found him. Time and time again it happened. As years passed, I was able to start to appreciate those moments. In a way, those are the times I prayed for. I wanted to see him the way I had expected, and I was losing sight at the very opportunity to tell him everything I wanted before he left us. Sure, there are angry moments about why he was so rebellious. Why did he have to take something so powerful to feel good?
A few years ago, I found out those answers. Dreams can also answer questions. They can unlock secrets to the past, but most importantly, they can give you peace. He was a kid and had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t have the wherewithal to know he’d be taken from us so soon, or at all for that matter. If he had known then he wouldn’t have ever tried it in the first place. That was all I needed to hear. He did love us that much. He just didn’t make the right choices. And although I want to hug him and punch him on the arm, he also feels the same way. That’s why we dream, my friends. Dreams are that powerful.
Creating my own family today helps feel the void about Shane leaving us. I got a tattoo of a Chinese symbol on my right arm that means “little brother.” Our little girls talk about him daily because of the tattoo. It opened a difficult dialogue to tell them how badly their uncle wishes he could play with them and make them laugh. Our oldest brings his name up at the dinner table, in the car, and even during the bath. My favorite time she brings him up is at bedtime. Simply because I feel it’s her invitation to see Shane in her own dreams. She’ll be able to finally laugh at his jokes. He’ll be able to tell her first hand about how much he loves seeing her and her sister grow. I know she will ask him all the questions she has thought about. Dreams are so special. They are so important. Dreams are the meeting places which give our hearts the peace our mind is seeking.
Many people don’t agree with with gay marriage, much less two dads raising children.
I think I will always be perplexed about that. The truth is, my husband saved me from the darkest of days after my brother died. He was beside me in every moment. He believed in me. He knew our love for each other was unbreakable. Those helpless moments of depression were brutal. Imagine being covered in the thickest blanket of sadness and then out of nowhere, our eyes met melting away the thick quilt of desolation. Our eyes were locked on each other as so many thoughts raced through my head. It was my white knight to save me from my own personal nightmare.
As years moved on, I figured out how to live again. I deserved to be happy, to laugh, to love again. He did that for me. And he does that everyday of my life, of our little girls’ lives. We bravely walk through life proudly and boldly while living our truest selves for everyone to see. We defy the odds which are stacked against us every single day. We are two daddies who love our two little girls unconditionally. Sure, we are looked at like unicorns in many places we go. Some people have never been exposed to seeing such a diverse family before. At first it would bother me, but I quickly learned most of the staring was from innocent onlookers curious to learn. I love that. I want them to walk away from us knowing we love our family like they love theirs. We would do anything in the world for our girls. We would give our lives for our babies. Parenthood taught me that.
Although my brother isn’t with us, my memories and my coveted dreams will always be. As our girls grow, I am sure they will continue to ask about their Uncle Shane and want to hear stories of his life and I am honored to tell them. His legacy deserves to live on. His name should bring smiles instead of tears. Shane needs to see that. He needs to know that our mourning has transformed into a celebration. We celebrate his life more now than we ever have.
While creating our family, I’ve always dreamed about a special moment. A moment which sends chills down my spine. A moment that brings tears to my eyes as I write. A moment when we can welcome our baby boy into this world, when I can look down at him and say, “Hi Shane. Your papa and daddy love you so much. And so does your uncle.” My husband and I are elated to start writing this new chapter in our lives. Our son, baby Shane’s story, can help turn around the sadness surrounding the end of my brother’s life and help write a beautiful, grateful and precious new beginning for our entire family. Tears will now turn to smiles and heartache will give way to laughter. My brother would have wanted that, I am certain.
On March 26th, we welcomed our baby Shane into this world.
Which just so happened to be my brother's due date as well
Follow our journey!
Everything that happens in our lives is meant to teach us something. These experiences--good, the bad, and the ugly--accumulate to help us grow into the people we are. I see how true this is with each passing day.
In 2005, my life was turned upside down. Katrina blew everyone’s life to hell and then we had to pick up what was left and learn to live again. After becoming a ‘refugee’ in Memphis, I decided to move out West because I had always wanted to live in LA. I had stars in my eyes and I dreams of making it big. FEMA money in my pocket, I loaded up my little blue Mazda Protege and started my journey across the country to become a famous pop singer. It was just after Thanksgiving when I moved, and I was lucky enough to have a couple of sweet friends to meet up with when I arrived. Christmas time was quickly approaching, but I wasn’t ready for it. Yall, I loooove the Holidays. I always have. There are so many things about this time of year that are special to me... the decorations, the cheerful people, and most of all my family. I didn't realize how big of a role family played until I moved. I had to relearn how to enjoy Christmas.
As the universe would have it, I met up with a friend of mine. He was the manager of the B-52’s and lived in a gorgeous house off of Sunset Boulevard. I would sit on his door step and look over at the ‘Laugh Factory,’ a famous comedy club in LA. It was amazing. The walls of his home donned several platinum records from the B-52's. It was surreal. After some time there my friend had to leave to visit his family for Christmas. The day before he left, he called me into the living room. There were button down shirts hung from coat hangers all over the room; he wanted me to have them. At first I didn't understand why, but later on it hit me-- I was from New Orleans and people viewed me as a refugee. This man was giving me his clothes. I still have a shirt in my closet from him. I stayed in his home a couple of more days after he left. Some people would have loved it, but I remember crying and feeling so lonely. I spent Christmas Day of 2005 sitting on his front steps and staring at Sunset Boulevard, longing to be back home in New Orleans.
I remember talking on the phone to my best friend from back home that Christmas. Every year we would call and exchange stories about our Christmas and what we love about the holiday. But this time it felt different. It felt as if my friend was 1,670 miles away. While Christmas of 2005 was painful, it helped to allow me to see where I belonged. As much as I thought I wanted to be on the west coast, the place where I was supposed to be was New Orleans, my home.
It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around that in just 10 years from that very moment of despair, my husband and I would be welcoming our newborn daughter home. With clammy palms, rapid heartbeats, and our stomachs in knots, we welcomed our tiny little daughter. At 4 lbs, she was smaller than a baby doll and more fragile and more beautiful than anything we had ever held. This was the moment our lives changed forever. It was as if life’s fog lifted and everything around us became clear. Now, every choice we made would revolve around her. This was perhaps the most significant day in our lives--the day we became Daddy and Papa.
The night we brought our baby girl home.
I remember laying on the couch and having this tiny baby lay on my chest. Listening to her breathe, watching her little hands move. Now THIS is surreal. Life has an amazing way of helping you grow up. When our daughter was born she only weighed 3.5 lbs. She decided to come into the world 10 weeks early so she had to stay in the NICU for a few weeks to gain her strength and put on some weight.
In the beginning we called her "werewolf baby" because she would literally try to eat us when she became hungry. She would be all snuggled in her cute swaddle then, like clockwork, about 20 minutes before it was time to have her bottle she’d start squirming and transform into a loud and angry baby worm. We had to be sure to not feed her too early because that would mess her feeding schedule up. So we had to do whatever we could to help her pass the time. We would usually cave in about 10min early out fear of being eaten alive by our beautiful werewolf baby. My husband thought to buy a Christmas ornament to remember those times. Every year we are taken back to those moments when we place it on our Christmas tree.
Our werewolf baby ornament along with
our ‘first Christmas’ ornament.
Feeding schedules weren’t the only thing we had to learn. We also needed to know how to NOT overfeed her. Being premature, she had a terrible time digesting her formula. We had her on the most sensitive type they make and yet it still seemed like it was too potent. As hungry as she would become, we knew if she drank too much we would be in for it. I think the hardest thing we had to do was try to console her when her tummy was hurting. The pain on her face was awful, and the only thing that seemed to help was when she threw up... and threw up... and threw up. All the time, every time. No matter how many burps we were able to achieve, it would still involve projectile puke somehow. We wouldn’t dare wear anything nice because it was sure to be barfed on. I lived in tank tops and sweat pants for months.
One time, we were in Jackson visiting my mother-in-law. Our baby girl was still having a tough time digesting. We were talking in the living room reminiscing about our newfound parenting lives. Someone said something hilarious that made each of us die out laughing. It was like she was waiting for the perfect moment. Douglas had Alli Mae facing him as he held her. And just as he opened his mouth to laugh, she unloaded a whole bottle's worth of baby puke directly into his mouth. IT WAS HILARIOUSLY DISGUSTING. His mom and I laugh about that to this day and I think we will until the end of time.
It's amazing how much the direction of life can change. Christmas of 2005 felt so depressing. I felt so stuck and it seemed like every decision I made blew up in my face. But in hindsight, I was wrong. That Christmas wish I made sitting on those doorsteps looking onto Sunset Blvd. almost 15 years ago came true. I didn’t realize I loved New Orleans like I did. I wouldn’t have known that unless I moved away. And as soon as I moved back home, I met my husband, the Daddy of my babies. The way the universe works is so incredibly awe-inspiring. Just when you think you have it figured out- the universe gives you a wink and says, “not so fast.”
Follow our family’s journey!
Four years ago we received the phone call that changed our lives forever. We were told that in our own city of New Orleans, there was a newborn baby that needed a forever home. What we were told by the agency would likely take 5 or more years took mere weeks. We frantically started putting together her nursery and planning for her arrival. She was born 10 weeks early and needed to stay in the NICU to grow and gain her strength and weight before she was released. She was so tiny and delicate. We were almost afraid to hold her in the beginning because of how fragile she was.
Finally, the day arrived that we were able to bring her home and we were thrust into overdrive. We prepared by reading all the baby books and watching the videos, but all that goes out the window when you have a baby in your arms. Our little baby had trouble digesting her formula due to her prematurity. The look in her eyes due to the pain she felt broke our hearts. We felt helpless! All we could do was just try to make sure to do everything on our end to help alleviate any pain she may encounter while feeding her. It was terrible. We would hold her for hours trying to console our hurting baby girl. I remember thinking to myself while she was crying that I would do anything to make her feel better.
Months passed and she grew stronger. The tough times we all experienced in the beginning bonded us closer together. Although she won’t remember those times, my husband and I do. We know in our hearts that she developed trust and security for us both especially because of those difficult first months.
She knows that we would and will do anything on Earth for her.
A year and a half later we welcomed our second baby into our lives. Our story seemed to be writing itself. Our oldest was able to fall in love with her baby sister just as her Daddy and Papa were. It seemed like life’s cobble stone pathway started to form right in front of us. We hopped onto each one as it appeared below us. One year turned into 2 that then faded into 3. Now we are at year 4 and something has seemed to happen. Our pathway that formed so naturally for us seemed to be getting more difficult for others to find. Life’s pathway should be accessible to anyone.
There are many people in our country that feel LGBTQ+ Americans shouldn’t have the same rights as our straight counterparts. The Trump administration is trying to allow adoption agencies that RECEIVE FEDERAL TAX DOLLARS to discriminate against LGBTQ+ families. This proposal is fully supported and praised by several people in highest of leadership positions in our country. There are currently protections in place that deny federal funding to adoption agencies that discriminate against same-sex adoptive families. Keeping these protections in place encourages more agencies to open their doors to same-sex couples. This administration is trying to do away with these protections.
I understand that some (not all) faith-based adoption agencies choose to turn away hopeful same-sex couples. While I in no way agree with this personally, I do respect the concept of freedom of religion. However, they don’t have any business being given federal funds if the funds are being used to support discriminatory practices. Any business that accepts federal funding must NOT DISCRIMINATE. Period.
When I read about this proposition I became enraged. I was literally shaking with anger. Separation of church and state is in our constitution for an important reason! How can I just sit back and personally allow this to happen? My mind suddenly became a jumbled thought machine. What can I personally do?
My first thought was write. But I was so hurt and angry! How can I write and effectively allow my anger to subside? That seemed impossible. So I kept thinking. Well, what if protested? I have never done that. Where do I even begin? Do I need a permit? Will I be arrested? After doing my research, in LOUISIANA, a permit is only needed if you march. To stand and have a peaceful demonstration requires NO PERMIT and it is absolutely free! When I read this my heart started pounding with excited anxiety. Once I felt like I was on to something, I created a slogan.
Before I knew it there was a Facebook event. I chose a place in New Orleans that I thought would be a popular spot for tourists but I also wanted a sentimental spot for us to be at. Jackson Square seemed like the perfect spot because that is where we were married, plus it's always packed with people. The night before our demonstration my husband and I made our posters to hold. Afterwards, I emailed local news outlets and any person in the public eye that may be interested. One news station ran a story about it the morning of the protest. I reached out to our beloved church family and parish priest. Father Terry is a very outspoken and admired member of our community. I was honored when he joined us for the demonstration.
Once we arrived, we were met with an overall positive atmosphere. About 12 of us participated in the demonstration. The crowd not only was accepting of our message but they also were very curious and had many questions.
If you do choose to hold a demonstration, be sure to think about your responses when people ask your thoughts on the issue at hand. This being my first protest, I was caught off guard a few times. I wasn’t expecting to answer so many questions. When you do arrive at a demonstration, be ready to answer any question thrown at you. Practice at home. That will help.
Although crowds and speaking publicly are not my strong suit, I promised my girls in the beginning of their lives that Papa & Daddy would do anything for them. That includes holding signs and picketing in front of absolute strangers. My family deserves to be treated like any other family. Just because my husband and I may interfere with someone’s deeply held religious beliefs does not give our government the right to alienate us and treat us any different. The tax dollars we pay should not be given to any business that deems our existence unworthy of the service they offer. PERIOD. End of discussion.
Being part of a marginalized group of society, it is easy to sense prejudices, bigotry and inequities that chisel away at our community. Something ominous is happening in our country today. The atmosphere is much different than a few years ago. When Trump was elected to office I was scared that his reputation of bullying would extend much further than the Oval Office. Unfortunately, I see evidence of that everyday.
Since 2017 I have published a post on my Nolapapa Facebook page. This post has over 11,000 likes and I stand behind the message. About three times a year I boost the post to share my message. Two days ago, I ran it again. Within the last 48 hours I have had to ban over 50 people from my page because of hateful and vile remarks. They not only were commenting on my post but they were aggressively and hatefully coming for my audience. A few hours ago I had to suspend the campaign because of the enormous amount of hatred coming in. Something is happening. Why are people suddenly acting so hatefully? My gut is telling me that the hateful people have always been there. They are just more audacious and brazen today. These people are not only hateful trolls and bullies, but they are menace to society. They are mimicking the President’s actions. If the leader of the free world is allowed to say mean and hateful things, then why can’t they?
They can. But it is up to each and everyone of us to stand up and speak out when we see this happen. Our future is up to us alone. If we allow to be steamrolled, then we will be. We must unite together and not allow this unfortunate time in our history to determine our beautiful future. Our lives, our babies’ lives are worth it.
New Episode Below!
Follow My Family’s Journey!
Twenty years ago when I came out, it was unbearably hard. As I have written before, I am from the Deep South. Anyone who dares to deviate from social norms was sure to be ostracized. It’s not that these people were born hateful or mean, rather, it probably was more to do with not them not being subjected to other lifestyles. Anything different from their own sparked fear and confusion. Homosexuality, interracial relationships, religious differences--these were all unfamiliar territories to the average person I grew up around. Thus, growing up was particularly difficult.
I remember laying in bed at night when I was a little boy. I would pray and beg God to not let me be gay. Every single night I would end my prayers with "...and God, please don’t let me have nightmares and please don’t let me be gay.” I remember crying myself to sleep many nights. I was embarrassed and ashamed. And I wanted God to cure me.
Growing up, I remember thinking it took a really strong person to embrace their true selves and to have enough pride to show it off for everyone to see. This was their life and they had the right to live it how they wanted, regardless of what the rest of society thought. I secretly admired that so much. I still remember hearing snide remarks about interracial couples holding hands in the mall. I remember thinking how incredibly bold those couples were to not be intimidated by anyone. I felt that it took a special kind of bravery to place their affection on public display... if only I could be like that one day.
Indeed, my time would come to rise up and embrace who I truly was. Defying social norms is risky business. All I could think about was being shunned by my family, church and friends. Well, as it would turn out those fears came to fruition and actually happened and it shattered me. People turned their backs. They said awful and hurtful things. Even some of my closest friends did this. But do you know what? Today I have grown to understand that I didn’t need those people in my life. Unconditional love isn’t something that you reward someone with. It’s something that you give regardless of any outcome or expectation. If someone doesn’t give you their unconditional love and respect, then that person isn’t worthy of being in your inner circle. THAT TOOK ME YEARS TO LEARN. There are many other people out there waiting to get to know you and give you what you deserve. You just may have not met them yet. When you do, you’ll know it.
Looking at society today, I cannot imagine what it is like growing up with social media platforms all around. I still have trouble with understanding how people can be so hateful as they hide behind their computer screen. After I came out, I thought it was difficult hearing other people’s opinions about my personal life. With today's social media, hateful people are able to stand on their soap boxes and lash out in a wide range of social groups and contexts. I remind myself daily that those hateful people will always be there and I shouldn’t take offense to what they may say. I knew trolls were around, but I didn’t know how prevalent they were until my writings started circulating around different websites on social media.
In the beginning, I felt like I needed to write about my journey. Metaphorically speaking, I like to look at my writings like I am from straying from the main road to leave a trail for others that may need hope. Helping to light a way for other LGBTQ people in our community is crucial in today’s society. I feel like it’s a personal calling and I passionately follow it, and I'm sure many of you do the same. People need to see that living our best and truest lives opens doors to so many beautiful opportunities. Young people who are questioning their sexuality need to see the beauty of what can happen when a person comes out and chooses to live their true self, boldly, proudly and unapologetically.
Unfortunately, having my writings picked up by popular websites leaves my work vulnerable to anyone that disagrees with my life. Although it’s exciting to have the exposure, it definitely isn’t without it’s share of disappointments. Hateful comments and messages from strangers still hurt. It reminds me that mean people are still out there. It also helped me realize that I needed to grow a thicker skin. Yes, I am living my best life and I am damn proud of it. Why should some hateful and repressive comment hinder my growth? Why should I give trolls the power to tear me down? I don’t even know them. Who cares what they think? What I do know is that I am a good father, husband, friend, son, and brother. I AM good enough. That is ALL that matters.
But, I am also a sensitive person, almost to a fault. I always have been. So, trying to learn how to grow a ‘thick skin’ has been rather difficult. I know I should let comments just roll off and move on, but instead I find that I overthink and dwell on them. It is super frustrating. In life, I have found that people are mean for different reasons. I don’t know why, nor do I need to know. They just are. Were they not loved enough? Who knows. The bottom line is that I must move on. That person is for some reason struggling to find their compassion and kindness. They lash out because anger and confusion are their default emotions when they do not understand something, and I need to remember to not take that personally. In fact, that's the solution--I shouldn’t take it personally. That is, all I have to do is be the better man and turn around without retaliation. I wouldn’t be able to change them with anything I said anyway. It would be futile. I Just need to be the bigger person. In doing so, I don't give the the twisted pleasure of seeing that they have elicited a negative emotional response from me. I choose to not give them what they want. You can do this, too.
National Coming Out Day is important because it allows people that are questioning their sexuality to see the support from so many people all around the world. It gives them the chance to see that it really does get better. And yall, it gets soooooo much better. Trust me. When you go to sleep at night, do you try to pray the gay away like I did? You may even cry yourself to sleep. It's okay to cry, just don’t give up. Keep moving. Just keep swimming. Life WILL get better.
If you're a teenager, you will find that it can be very, very hard sometimes. It isn’t always going to be like that. Although it may feel like nothing will ever change, trust me, it will. Have faith. Your life means something and you matter. Find your tribe. Find the people that lift you up and embrace your quirkiness. Find the friends that love you for who you truly are, inside and out. Find the places that make you thrive. Find your passions. Paint. Garden. Cook. Workout. Laugh. Watch Ellen. Be kind to one another. Kindness is everything. Remember that your kindness today can be someone else’s strength tomorrow. Life is beautiful. And it truly gets better. Just push forward, fight, and I promise, you will see that.
Our support for LGBT and questioning youth is vital.
This is a video I created many, many years ago to hopefully inspire anyone questioning suicide.
Follow My Family’s Journey!
It’s been 14 years and it still feels as if it happened a couple of years ago. Hurricane Katrina shook the entire South to its core. It single-handedly uprooted thousands of people, many of which never returned home, and affected the lives of everyone here in some way. The livelihoods of countless people were ripped away and tossed into the flooded streets glistening with oil sheen under the hot August sun.
This is my Katrina experience.
My account: a refugee’s story
Hurricanes are a way of life down here, right? I mean, we deal with storms every year. So how in the hell could this happen? How could we let our guard down? Both are very good questions. It still makes me wonder because power outages, minor street flooding and evacuations are second nature to most New Orleanians. But Katrina was different. She was a monster.
The day before mandatory evacuations, I remember waking up after a long night of partying and seeing that my mom had tried calling me multiple times. I called her back and, through my hangover, I could tell that she was completely stricken with panic. “Come home now!” she screamed into the phone. “The storm has turned and it is heading right for New Orleans!” Through the night, the storm had shifted from a northwesterly path to due north--straight for New Orleans.
I had lived in New Orleans for about 4 years at that point. My family still lived in Oak Grove, a suburb of Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Like I said before, we deal with this sort of thing all the time during hurricane season. But unlike all the other times, this particular instance was like a series of unfortunate events that enabled this storm to be catastrophic. The water temperature in the Gulf and the jet stream were two of the main culprits. Usually, it seems like storms shift away from us, not toward us. And as the events unfolded, it was like the whole city of New Orleans held its breath. You could hear a pin drop. Then, once we all realized this was really happening, everyone scattered.
The silence gave way to the sounds of construction as homeowners and business owners nailed up plywood to protect their property. The people that stayed rushed to the grocery stores and the people that left sped to the gas stations. I will never forget how long the lines were. Waiting to fill my car up with gas is one mistake that I will never make again. Little did I know that waiting an hour for gasoline was a cakewalk compared to what would be in store 2 days later.
It was really tough leaving home. This was different than any other time I had evacuated. It may have been because of the ominous path the storm was on. Whatever reason it was, it was very emotional for me. I remember making sure that my house was nice and tidy as I picked up the living room, Weather Channel blaring in the background. My mom had always instilled in me that when I came home from evacuations, it would be nicer to walk into a clean house rather than having to clean when I got home. Little did I know, I wouldn’t be coming home for a long, long time. I packed my little car with a couple of duffel bags, secured my garden and lawn furniture, and off I went. It took about 4 hours to get to my mom’s house, a trip that usually took 2 hours. Given the amount of cars on the road, that seemed like a success to me.
As the next day approached, it was pretty evident that Katrina was going to hit New Orleans. However, we didn’t have any idea that there was a warm pocket of water in the Gulf she was about to churn over that would spike her windspeeds even higher. All of us were frozen. As the winds became stronger, she began to shift east. Wait, what? East? Now, she was predicted to make landfall in south Mississippi. So I left my entire life behind, and for what? To go to ground zero.
We all know how it played out. Katrina was a direct hit for south Mississippi. It literally annihilated the Gulf Coast. We were about an hour inland, but that didn’t stop the massive winds. Pine trees snapped and crashed down all around us blocking everyone in our neighborhood. I had never seen trees bend like that. It was horrifying. The rain blew sideways for days it seemed. The wind howled like rabid wolves in the night. Then, the lights went out. And they stayed out for 2 weeks.
Luckily, we had a generator to at least run the refrigerator and the a/c for a few hours. We had to really watch our generator because there were thieves that were stealing them and replacing them with lawn mowers because the motors sounded so similar. Days after the storm it seemed apocalyptic. No power, no gas to run generators, no water. There were reports of people killing their own family members over ice, food, and gas. It was 100 degrees outside and we had no electricity, no water. Seriously, what do you do?
To our amazement, it was like a guardian angel guided them to us. My parents' friends owned a furniture store in town. They called us to see if we needed somewhere safe to stay. We were so excited! This place had electricity! It had running water! We walked in and got to pick out our sleeping spot in one of the 2 different show rooms. Each show room had about 10 different room displays. I can still remember how comfortable I was with the cool air blowing on me as I lay on a big sofa. I was able to charge my cellphone and turn it on. When I did, I was flooded with voicemails. Earlier that day, the levees broke in New Orleans. Water inundated the city. Parts of the city were on fire. People were drowning. It seemed like New Orleans had fallen.
Credit: National Geographic
After a few days of sweating it out with my family, I was elated to find out that some friends of mine came up from New Orleans heading towards Memphis. They stopped by my house to see if I wanted to follow along. As quickly as I could, I threw my bags in my car and away we went.
A close friend of mine lived in Memphis and I was able to stay with him and his family for a while. They took me in as their own and, to this day, I am eternally grateful. All of a sudden I went from being a guest in from out of town to a New Orleans refugee. Memphis picked me up and give me the tightest hug. Everywhere I went, people hugged me. I couldn’t help but to cry- all of the time. All of the stores had signs in their windows reading “refugee discounts.” Every time I took my license out to show them, they hugged me. Some cried. Some would put their hand on my face and tell me that it was going to be okay. Memphis will ALWAYS be my second home. The compassion, empathy, and love that radiated from everyone there still shines in my heart to this day, as it will forever.
One week led to a month, then to two months. Then there was talk of New Orleans allowing residents back home. They implemented the return for residents by zip code only. I waited anxiously for them to call my zip code. The city officials stressed that the city was still uninhabitable. This was just to allow residents to assess damages and grab their belongings until New Orleans was operational again. Finally, they announced my zip code and away I went.
There were many detours because of roads and bridges not existing anymore. Finally, I got to New Orleans. It was like it was Armageddon. I could not believe my eyes. Floodwaters, broken trees, debris, caskets. It was overwhelming. There were military check points every half mile. One happened to be right beside my house on Saint Charles Avenue. They walked around in their military garb wielding assault riffles. It was literally like a war scene from a movie. When I finally made it to my house I had to wind my way through broken branches and slate roofing tiles.
I was frantically trying to load my life up for the next few months. As twilight fell, everything was silent. The wind had stopped. No sounds of birds, insects, people. It was incredibly eerie. There was a sunset curfew and I had to be out of the city before the sun went down. Well, needless to say, I was running a little bit late. I jumped in my car and hauled ass toward the interstate. There was another military checkpoint before I could leave. He flagged me down and I stopped. He said I was past curfew and I had to turn around and go back to my house--my dark and scary house. At that moment I lost it. All I could do was cry. Actually, I balled. I was terrified. I couldn’t even talk without hyperventilating. Thankfully, he felt sorry for me and let me pass. I felt like I was transported to Iraq. It was so surreal and overwhelming.
I went back to Memphis as quickly as I could that evening. I had nightmares for years after that. Many, many other people do too. Some, much, much worse. So many people died. Entire families drowned in their attics with no way to escape. Katrina left holes in people’s lives that will never ever be filled. The images of the rushing water flooding my city will always be burned into my memory.
Every single year, as each new storm develops, we all have flashbacks of what our lives were like after the storm. If it is one thing I learned, it’s that one event can change everyone’s way of life- in one fail swoop. Don’t take anything for granted because it can all be gone tomorrow. Every single year, hurricane season is a daunting and sinking feeling that doesn’t go away until November. The longer we go with not having a major storm, the easier it is to to go on with our daily lives. But the events of what happened 14 years ago will never ever leave me. With every hurricane season that comes, and every storm that forms, Katrina will always be in the back of my mind.
That which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger right? That couldn’t have been more true as we all began to rebuild our lives in New Orleans and all across the South.
You can’t really and truly understand the beauty of life until it’s ripped away from you. It’s when you have stared at what is heinously terrifying about life- and then overcame it. It’s in those very moments there. That is your silver lining.
It’s a single seed of hope that sprouts.
It’s watered by faith, and grown by love-
to become the blossoms of our lives.
Photo Credit: BSA Photography
Follow my family’s journey