I grew up with two mothers – and that’s a good thing

This is how our author experienced growing up with two mothers.

Strangers often know that I have two mothers after just three sentences. They ask why my name is Sydney. Oh, because of my American mother. Well, then my father would be from Germany? But he doesn't exist. And so, within a few seconds, I'm delving deeper into my family history than most people would like after meeting so recently.

Exactly: I have two mothers. They're lesbians. Some are embarrassed by that, and they say, "Sorry." Others don't care. Or they pretend to be and then "discreetly" return to the topic later: "Can I ask you something about that?" Sure, join in. You're not the first person—and that's okay. I find the question itself much worse, since it implies I should be ashamed of my family. Just ask—or don't.

It's shocking how often I've heard that we're missing something, that something must be missing. Incidentally, this is primarily claimed by people without relevant expertise. Many simply like to have an opinion, which becomes problematic at the latest when it enters politics – and takes away our rights from us rainbow children. After a brief phase of normalization, the rise of right-wing forces in Europe has led to a renewed focus on the narrative that only the "traditional" family guarantees a child's healthy development. For Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, for example, such constellations even form "the unshakable foundation of our nation – alternative family models cannot live up to this ideal." Matteo Salvini, Deputy Prime Minister of Italy, even went so far as to claim that "any deviation from this model undermines social cohesion in our society." Yet numerous studies (incidentally, since the 1980s) show that children of homosexual parents are no worse off than those of heterosexual parents. By talking about my family, I want to refute such outdated, discriminatory theories.

Children of homosexual parents are no worse off than those of heterosexual parents – this is important to emphasize right now

The first thing many people ask me is whether I call both of them "Mom." I call one "Mom" and the other by her first name. It's been this way since birth, and it doesn't affect our relationship. But what really lies behind this question is the interest in whether I have a different relationship with my biological mother. And the answer, of course, is yes—because she's a different person with different characteristics. But she's not "more" my mother than the other one.

But my father is also always important to people: Did I know him and did I miss him? I never missed a father. My mothers have been together for over 30 years and are still happily married. I had two functioning, extremely devoted parents. My childhood consisted of sensational packed lunches, lots of Playmobil, and two trips to Hawaii . Of bitter tears because I didn't get a Gameboy, and constant arguments over bad grades in French. Of lullabies in English and German. Of toast with melted cinnamon butter when I was sick, and disproportionately long house arrest if I broke rules. Who knows what a Y chromosome would have changed. Nevertheless, I was naturally incredibly curious to know who the sperm donor was; after all, he makes up half of my genetic identity. As soon as I was of legal age, I was allowed to request his details from the clinic. When the email with his name finally arrived in July 2014, I unexpectedly burst into tears.

A lifelong question mark had suddenly vanished into thin air – I was completely overwhelmed. Getting to know him afterwards had less of an impact on me. He's a fantastic person, a musician and a psychiatrist, which I thought was cool, of course. It was also exciting to discover that not only did parts of my personality come from him, but so did eight half-siblings, all from different families with two mothers. That was an exciting time. We were even in a Facebook group together back then, but we hardly speak today because we don't consider ourselves a family. Most of them didn't even want to meet our donor. The exception: one half-brother – as a child of divorce, he wanted a closer relationship with him and us.

Looking back, I simply wished I had someone who had similar experiences to me. It could have been a sibling, an adult, or a cartoon character. I missed the representation, the connection to the outside world, and it sometimes felt lonely. Although my parents were open and sensitive, I never dared to talk to them about our special situation. I was afraid of hurting their feelings, and besides, I didn't even know what exactly I would have wanted to talk about.

“I was only teased by the German state”

Many assume I was bullied. But I was only bullied by the German state. Because my parents are lesbians, my non-biological, German mother was denied parental status. At the time, she had no right to adopt, unlike heterosexual adoptive or stepmothers. In addition to numerous bureaucratic complications, such as opening my first bank account or signing certificates, this discriminatory legal situation meant that I had no right to German citizenship, even though I was born in Frankfurt. Fortunately, adoption law now also applies to same-sex marriages—let's hope it stays that way.