[strandinthewind]

This letter appeared in Friday’s AJC. For those of you who may not know who she is, Sadie Fields has been a key force in gettomg the proposed constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage on the ballot. She lobbied state legislators and organized rallies while the Georgia House and Senate debated the measure, which voters will decide at the polls Tuesday. As chairwoman of the Christian Coalition, she directed publication of an influential voter scorecard and is working with a large network of churches to help turn out voters on Election Day.

Reject my mother's bigotry

By TESS FIELDS
Published on: 10/29/04

I am the daughter of Sadie Fields, president of the Christian Coalition of Georgia. I was appalled by the column my mother wrote justifying her bigotry, and I feel compelled to respond ("Can't let the few hurt society as a whole," @issue, Oct. 25).

The first time there was a definitive split between my mother and me, I was in the seventh grade. My best friend's name was Lisa. She was Jewish. Concerned about what our pastor had stated about Jews in the afterlife, I went to my mother and asked her if Lisa was going to burn in hell. My mother's response, "If she does not accept the Lord Jesus then yes, she will go to hell." Right there, she lost me. I have disagreed with her ever since.

I was 24 years old when my mother, through a series of mishaps, found out I was gay. My mother came over to where I worked, screaming, and told me I was "dead" to the family. She called me "sick," "crazy" and "of the devil." She said that I would never see my family again.

For more than five years after that day, I heard nothing from my family. No birthday cards, no invitations to Christmas or Thanksgiving events. It wasn't just the loss of my immediate family that was difficult, but the loss of my extended family as well. Since my mother refused to be in the same room with me, it forced my aunts and uncles to choose sides. I have not been to a family reunion in more than a decade.

When my partner, Trisha, and I decided to have a child, we were not unlike most couples making this decision. We considered whether or not we were emotionally and financially ready. We considered the ways that it would change our lives and our relationship with each other.

After two years of planning, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Trisha, during the pregnancy, held my hair out of my face when I vomited from morning sickness. She attended birthing classes, cooked organic meals for me every single night, and calmed my fears about the labor. We bought baby books and argued about names, started a college fund, and perused garage sales for the best deals on cribs and diaper-changing stations.

The only thing unusual about our pregnancy was the critical necessity of a lawyer.

Given my mother's abject hostility toward gay and lesbian people, in the process of my pregnancy we had to spend thousands of dollars protecting ourselves from her potential interference. In spite of the fact that she has never, in more than a decade, visited me, and has written numerous articles comparing me to pedophiles and people who have sex with animals, according to the law, my mother has more rights to our child than Trisha.

What if I died during the birth? What if something happened to me before the lawyers could get the adoption finalized? These were the kinds of fears that our family had to face, and we felt robbed. Expecting a child should be a wonderful moment in a couple's life. Pregnancy, in and of itself, can be challenging, but the greater excitement of a baby on the way seems to balance these fears for most people. My family, however, had to be concerned about my mother's extremism, and what legal grounds she had if she decided to try and take Trisha's child. And then we had to prepare, meticulously, if that threat were ever realized.

A friend once told me that becoming a parent does two things: It teaches you to love in a whole new way, and it teaches you to fear in a whole new way. It was not until I became pregnant that I understood completely what she meant.

While some people may disagree about gay marriage, passing a constitutional amendment ensuring that one group of people is singled out to be treated differently is wrong. The state's constitution is for protecting our most basic and important rights. It should not be used to settle partisan, religious, or ideological disputes. And it should never be changed in a way that hurts people. But Amendment One would deny thousands of gay and lesbian Georgians and their families access to health care, fair survivor rights and the ability to make lifesaving medical decisions. We may disagree about social issues such as marriage, but those disagreements do not belong in the state constitution.

So my fellow, fair-minded Georgians, I am writing to encourage you not to follow my mother's lead. Learn from our example. For all of the struggles my family experienced while I was growing up, none has been more damaging to its foundation than my mother's religious extremism and fervent black and white ideology. We have not been in the same room together for more than 11 years. My mother's religion has left us not merely splintered, but broken. It leaves no room for compromise or even mutual respect for people that have different ideologies.

But most importantly, I have this to say. If we lose this battle on Nov. 2, I want to let my gay and straight friends in Georgia know that we will not lose the war. Celebrate and be proud of who you are and the strong families that you have created. Spit in the eye of your oppressor with the ultimate revenge; be happy, be successful and live your life fully and completely, as God intended.

For those of you voting no on Amendment One, thank you for standing up for families like mine. Thank you for making the world a safer place for our son. Thank you for helping ensure that he receives good health care. Regardless of what happens to me, he will continue to grow safely in the arms of his loving mother and grandparents. Thank you for not allowing a form of religious extremism that leaves families shattered and broken to be written into law, becoming a way of life for all.


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Tess Fields is a manager with a Portland, Ore. affiliate of Planned Parenthood.