I’m left-handed. I can’t remember being any other way. It always felt like me. I tried being right-handed and it didn’t feel like me. I can’t explain it any other way, it wasn’t me.

My parents recognized my being a lefty and advocated for me with teachers and coaches. “This is who she is, don’t try to make her be different. She isn’t a righty.” My mom found ways to support me and to help me embrace being a little different from my peers. As a child I loved announcing to people “I may not be right, but I’m never wrong!”

Older family members probably were left-handed but were told that it wasn’t allowed and they needed to do things the right-handed way. I was fortunate to be given the space to figure out what worked for me and what didn’t work. I bowl and golf right-handed, go figure!

Being left-handed isn’t a choice. I wasn’t made to be this way by someone else. It isn’t an ideology. There isn’t an agenda behind it. It’s an aspect of who I am, nothing more, nothing less.

Makes sense, doesn’t it? Now replace my being left-handed with someone’s being gay, lesbian, queer, transgender – outside of your heteronormative experience – and ask yourself why it’s any different. It isn’t!

Consider the wise words of my daughter when she was in preschool: boys can marry girls and boys can marry boys. Girls can marry boys and girls can marry girls. But we don’t marry animals because they would eat all the cake.

Love is love. We are all human. Be kind to each other.