“Why didn’t you two leave Mississippi?”
This has been a frequently asked question for me, Suzanne, and my wife, Cathy, over the years. To be honest, this idea has become a home in our mind. Years ago, we even drew maps and dreamed of where we wanted to go.
Ultimately, we decided to stay in Mississippi because we wanted to be a part of the change we knew was coming. We want our nearly four-decade-long relationship and hard-earned visibility in our community to be a testament to other LGBTQ Mississippians who come after us.
We don’t want others to accept Southern “honor” by denying or hiding their humanity as society expected us to do in 1993 when we covered the inside of our homes.
Our original wedding day was in the US. That was 22 years before the Supreme Court decision that would grant marriage equality to gay and lesbian couples. We told a group of close friends that they were attending a house blessing on that important day.
One of our dearest friends, a priest, married us – although he feared being defrocked for performing a ceremony for a gay couple. None of us can afford to be out at that time without risking our livelihood.
Kathy held an appointed position as Director of Hattiesburg’s City Planning Department. In those days, gay rumors were enough for the city council to refuse to confirm my directorship. The pain of that experience is felt even today.
Then and now, there are very few places in Mississippi where LGBTQ people are empowered to enter as authentic human beings without fear of justice, denial of service, or fear of people looking over their shoulders for harming us.
When LGBTQ people are in the closet, we have to find a place where we can be safe. In the 80s and 90s, we used to meet at people’s homes. There were no gay bars in Hattiesburg. If we wanted to go to a gay bar, we had to go to Jackson or New Orleans. And you can’t say I’m going to drive two hours to drink with people, but we did it.
You wanted to surround yourself with people you could be yourself with. For many, the gay bar is a refuge from the judgmental society and — even more so — the religious right, which in the South, especially in Mississippi, dominates everything from politics to watercooler conversation.
As times began to change in 2012, I, as a gay, devout Christian and Episcopal priest, adopted conservative principles and attitudes to win the respect of members as a spiritual leader in the Episcopal Church, becoming the first Episcopalian priest to lead. A congregation in the state.
Cathy and I shed tears of joy at this amazing accomplishment. But it was the teary eyes of LGBTQ church members and our straight allies, realizing that the door of love and acceptance had triumphed, that truly overwhelmed us.
When we expanded our family in 1999, that same faith community showed us so much love, support and encouragement. And they welcomed and loved our greatest blessing, our son, Hudson.
He was born through artificial insemination and was carried by Kathy. We would have gotten him sooner, but I was afraid he would be bullied for having two moms in Mississippi.
But whatever threat was made to Hudson—and we thank God it was minimal—he was unfazed by it. He has a strong physique and always has many friends who support and love him and our family.
As the non-biological mother of our child, I planned to adopt Hudson as a second parent soon after his birth. But the year he was born, the Mississippi legislature passed and the governor signed a ban on gay adoption.
This was another piece of Mississippi’s abuse law, along with Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) laws such as the infamous HB 1523.
When gay marriage became legal, we were forced to join three other gay couples in a 2015 lawsuit brought by famed civil rights attorney Roberta Kaplan to court to overturn discriminatory adoption laws.
Becoming a plaintiff in overturning the last remaining ban on adoption in our state, America, was not only deeply personal, but we understood the broader implications of the decision for families like ours and people considering becoming parents.
Before the adoption ban was lifted, there was a real fear among gay and lesbian parents in Mississippi that the state could take our children away from us at any time.
Kathy recalls that she never missed a single sporting event during Hudson’s elementary and high school years because she wondered if the authorities would let her care if something happened to her.
This fear was felt in public, but it also hit home with us. If an officer came to our front door and tried to take our child, I had an escape plan.
I remember there was a privacy fence around our backyard, and a gate in the back of the yard that led to a pit. My plan was to grab Hudson, wrap him, run down the ditch to our friend’s house around the corner, and then hide in his back bedroom.
We may laugh at it now, but it was no laughing matter at the time. RFRA laws still affect our basic human rights. It’s disappointing that conservatives use queer people and families like ours as political pawns.
Mississippi is the poorest, least educated, sickest state with the least access to health care. We’re last in everything you don’t want to be last in, you don’t want to be first in everything, but politicians use LGBTQ people as a red herring. A red herring means taking our eyes off the real issues in our wonderful situation.
Our hospitals, our infrastructure and our schools are crumbling. Recently, Mississippi experienced the most serious fraud scandal in the state’s history, but politicians are proud: “We protected you from gay and transgender people.”
Despite all this, we are sure that Mississippi is not a bad place. It’s full of amazing people, and we’re lucky to have a supportive community of straight and gay family and friends.
Unfortunately, Mississippi’s governor and some legislators have a long history of exploiting people like us.
Despite the ups and downs, progress and setbacks, our son Hudson never ceases to remind us how proud he is of both of his moms, not only for the personal and professional sacrifices they made for our family, but for our families. But we will never meet.
We are proud of it too!
Respected Dr. Susan Hrostowski is a native of Gulfport, MS and Hattiesburg by choice and is an Episcopal priest and professor of social work at the University of Southern Mississippi.
Kathy Garner is a native of Hattiesburg, MS. He is currently the Executive Director of the AIDS Services Coalition, a non-profit, community-based organization that provides housing and support services for people living with or affected by HIV.
