Lesbian Dad

Baba is butch

Never simply late when I can be egregiously late, I am filing this mid-December response to Sinclair Sexmith’s call, posted at Sugarbutch in late October, for thoughtful responses to the following prompt: What is butch? How do you define butch? What do you love about it? What does it mean

Baba, a name I call myself

Part two of a six-part series of excerpts from “Confessions of a Lesbian Dad,” originally published in Confessions of the Other Mother: Non-biological Lesbian Moms Tell All (Ed. Harlyn Aizley. Boston: Beacon, 2006).   [Series intro and backstory here.] A few months after I outed myself as a butchy lesbian

Map-maker, map-maker, make me a map

[A slice of Saul Steinberg’s endlessly riffed upon 1976 New Yorker cover, in which he depcits the westerly view through the prism of a stereotypically myopic New Yorker. Or, depending on your vantage point, through a good clear set of binocs. Nice little bit on it here on strange maps.]

We are family

GranBaba with the Lil Monkey. Who’s GranBaba? My kid’s blood Gramma’s butchie lesbo sweetie, who else? I was recently asked the following: what’s your take on half siblings? other kids from the same donor.. not a part of your family.. who are such lil ppl to you.. or to lil

Voyage of the Bagel

This morning the Little Monkey looked up from her bagel and saw a bird out the window on the deck railing. I said, “Look, sweetie! Do you see the birdie?” To which she replied, “Cal-a-for-nya Tow-hee.” To which I toppled over backward off my chair. Mind you the wee mite

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