Meri Perra blogs about the challenges she and her partner face in trying to raise their girls with feminist values
I’m not going to preface this with the oldie but nasty, “I don’t have a problem with such and such people.” But some of my best friends are straight. Honest to goodness. But they’re not straight, straight. OK, they are. I’ll tell you though, sometimes my girls forget. Call my girl group a gay straight-alliance in the form of wine-soaked gab sessions.
No don’t. It’s more than that. And Saturday mornings-after are getting too rough, so there’s also an end to that.
Our cheeky gay nephew says that straight friends are like faithful pets. They follow you around, and you can trust them not to steal your partner. I wouldn’t call us that either. My girls trust each other. We check in. We think each and every one of us is great. We laugh more than we cry, but we definitely cry. Almost on cue.
