I found this, here:
I remember the first time I believed this. I was a kid. I was probably fourteen. It was when I realized I wouldn't be able to have REAL kids of my own. You know, the ones that were made by me.
Because at that time, I didn't know that you could have kids with someone unless you were really with them. Because at that time no one ever talked about people having babies for other people. Or people being in other relationships and not having to adopt. Because that time was a different time. It was a time where it was wrong for gay couples to have kids. It was a time where marriage between two men was insanely controversial.
Huh.
My last name comes with a lot of stories. There are generations and generations of my German blood doing anything in their power to get what they wanted out of life. I have family members who suffered through war. My grandma (God, this story breaks my heart) learned what loss was when her house was burned down by Nazi's or when she lost her brother to Tetanus or when her family stopped talking to her when she moved to America because she believed her life was her own and she could do what she wanted. She feared failure. She feared judgment. But she did it.
I can't stop thinking about Proposition 8. Not just the political aspect. Not just how stupid some people can be to believe in things they don't truly understand. What I really can't stop thinking about is my last name and how I want to share it. How I will share it. How it's been almost fifteen years later when I first thought that my life HAD to be so much different from other people's lives because I was wrong in my feelings and beliefs. Yet, I still believe my life is my own and that I will do what I want. I fear failure. I fear judgment. But I will do it.
Because it runs in my blood.
It will run in my children's blood.