Transforming Families

Patricia McCaw

1981

I'd spent all morning arguing at the adoption agency that employed me, thumping my metaphorical fist, about gay people not being allowed to adopt. It was the end of 1981 but the opinions I heard around me could have applied to 1881. When I'd objected to the ban on gay people applying to adopt, on the grounds of fairness and equality, there had been a mass intake of breath by the agency's well-shod committee ladies. They, the stay at home wives of judges, medical consultants and headmasters, knew exactly what constituted desirable family life for a hard to place child, and it wasn't two mummies or two daddies. A sympathetic committee lady whispered to me, after the stormy meeting, that overnight I'd become a 'bad apple', and should protect myself. She didn't mention that rumours were circulating about my own sexuality, but if she had I doubt if I'd have told her that I wasn't gay. I'd wondered at times, but just assumed I'd have a family in the conventional way. Or at least that was my position at the beginning of the day!

A fellow employee, Merill, dropped by my desk and said, 'What you need is to get all that rage and adrenaline out of you. What you need is to fling someone over your shoulder!' 'Huh?' I grunted. 'You mean judo?' 'No, better,' she said, 'Aikido. A pal and I have been going for a while. Come along tonight. It's very therapeutic, and it means you can handle yourself if a guy jumps you when you're crossing the Meadows.' ... (continues)