Page 4 of Revisions

Jay Ivey’s questions trigger feelings about my youth. Being the only girl in my family wasn't easy for me. There were expectations. I defied them. Jerry resented my success academically and professionally, just like he did my mom’s. He also had issues with my sexuality. I went to great lengths to suppress who I was—not only to keep it a secret. It didn’t matter that I never shared my interest in girls with anyone. Being the jock who never expressed crushes on boys led to loads of rumors about me in high school. My solution was to date Jed Tyler. He was older, popular, and interested in me. And dating Jed was more than a way to conceal my feelings about girls. I think part of me hoped he could change me. He changed thingsforme.

I tried to push Jed away one night during a make-out session in his car. His response was to assert that the rumors must be true—I was a lesbian. I am. That isn’t why I pushed him away. I wasn’t ready to be sexually active with anyone. He didn’t care about that or understand the meaning of the word no. After thatnight, part of me shut down. I withdrew into my studies more. Eventually, I discovered the excitement of dating women. But I never felt safe when one of my girlfriends would touch me. I never trusted anyone’s touch until I met Candace.

So, yes. Being the first lesbian First Lady means something to me. When kids tell me that seeing me and Candace helped them be comfortable with themselves, it means something to me. It also means something to me when a parent tells me we’ve helped them accept their child’s sexuality. It matters. People like Ivey piss me off. He reminds me of Jerry and Jed.

I take a deep breath and answer him. “I think you’re taking Candace’s words out of context,” I say.

“Theyareher words.”

“Sure. The fact that she’s a lesbian shouldn’t be a reason to vote for or against her. It also shouldn’t be qualifying or disqualifying as a leader.”

“Then why does it matter to you?” he asks.

“You answered your question when you posed it to me,” I tell him.

“You haven’t answered it.”

“I did. The fact that you would think of asking me that questionisthe answer. Lesbians and gay men are listening to this conversation. No matter their age, they’ve never seen someone from their community sitting in the White House.”

“So, it matters as a signal to your community. There are many people uncomfortable with the fact that lesbians live here,” he says.

I catch Dana’s cringe in the distance. That comment sounds exactly like something my Uncle Jerry would say. There was a time when this line of questioning infuriated me; now, I find it pathetic and tired. I’m tempted to suggest it would make a great reality show:Lesbians Live Here.I’d watch it. I’ll leave that out, too.

I nod. “That’s also why I take my role seriously, Jay. I hope when people get to know me—when they get to know Candace and our family—it helps them realize we’re no different. Life here is different from theirs. It’s a bubble. We’re never alone—not really. But our marriage and our family are like everyone else’s. We just live in an extraordinary reality for the next few years.”

“How do you feel about possibly being here for two terms? You had a successful career before you met the president. Any regrets?”

“No regrets,” I answer.

“There have been rumors that you and the president don’t agree on many issues,” Ivey says.

“Is that a question?”

“Do you challenge the president?”

“Daily.”

“Really?”

I laugh. “Not on policy,” I explain.

“Even if you disagree?”

“I trust Candace to make the best decisions in any situation. Occasionally, I do scold her about ice cream flavors.”

“But not political issues? You never express a difference of opinion?”

I’m sure it’s hard for most people to believe this, but Candace and I don’t talk about her policies often. We have different backgrounds and experiences. Of course, we sometimes disagree. I will never grasp why that surprises people. “If I feel strongly about something, I tell her,” I reply.

“So you’re not a political person? The president doesn’t share her thoughts with you?”

“Jay, the president is my wife.”

“Exactly.”

I chuckle. “You’re missing my point. You see Candace Reid as the president. Everything you think about her starts with her career as a political leader. I see her as Candace. Serving as president is part of her. She’s also my best friend, someone’s sister, daughter, and mother. We have four kids and eight grandchildren, and another is on the way. Trust me, we have plenty to discuss.”

I can see the wheels spinning in Ivey’s brain. He’s determined to get under my skin.

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