Robert and Robert

For Robert Crowley, fatherhood indeed seemed impossible, "Growing up as a small kid, six, seven, eight years old, I knew that early that I wanted to be a parent one day. And as I came to terms with my sexuality and I knew that I was gay, I remember conciously having to make that decision, that if I was going to be gay, I could not have children, because gay people did not have children. And a lot of laws at that time, and especially internationally, you could not adopt if you were a gay man."

Crowley continued to fight an internal battle between future desires and being authentic until the day he met a Gay father. "When I was in high school, my best friend worked for an ice cream shop that turns out was owned by half of a gay couple... And attached to it was a florist, and his partner ran [it], and they had a daughter that was adopted, and that was eye-opening for me in high school, because what I thought I knew — that I couldn't be this person — like, it actually does happen!"

Years later, Crowley grew up and met his future husband, a man so perfect for him, he even had the same name, Robert. Robert Crowley and Robert Martin had "the discussion" early on in their relationship and decided they both really wanted to become parents someday.

Someday came seven years later. "We [thought] it would take a while, but it ended up being fairly quick," Martin said. "We started the process in January of 2011 and we had our first child in December of 2011."

"We [went] in three different ways... We started the surrogacy process, the adoption placement process, [and] foster care adoption, and whichever worked was going to be what it was meant to be." Martin explained.

As it turned out, adoption was what was meant to be for the Crowley family, and with the help Amara, of an adoption agency, they were placed with a birth mother within days, with whom Crowley and Martin developed a close bond. The night her water broke, they were at the movie theater with her. Crowley and Martin rushed her to the hospital and were able to witness the birth of their daughter, who they named Mirabel. "I even got to cut the cord, which was so incredible." Martin gushed.

The new fathers knew they wanted their family to expand again one day, and so they left their applications open with Amara. Just two years later, they got the familiarly fateful call inviting them, once again, to become fathers.

"The second adoption was through foster care placement, and that was a much longer, much more challenging journey," Martin explained. Crowley and Martin were matched with a set of twins, a boy and a girl. The moment they met these children, they fell in love, but as it so often is with foster care, the fathers faced an unknown future with their babies.

"We did almost lose them, early on in the process." Martin remembered. The birth mother fought tooth and nail, and at one point it seemed like Crowley and Martin were going to lose the babies for good.

"Those were the toughest memories," Crowley recalled. "We were told, that because of the scenario, they may be going back, and I was leaving on a business trip. I had to go to a photo shoot in another state, and I knew this was going to happen while I was gone, and so I boarded the plane, and it was hard leaving them... I was a mess at the airport, I was a mess on the airplane..."

"I was a mess at home with three children!" Martin added in with a laugh. "It was really, really emotional." As it turned out, the birth mother made a bad decision, setting the clock back and allowing Crowley and Martin more time with the babies.

After four years of custody battles, Camden and Camille officially became Crowleys. Martin and Crowley had finished the long journey they had started, but the battles were only beginning.

"So, our oldest daughter, Mirabel, she's biracial, she's white and African American, and our twins are both Black," Martin explained. Both he and Crowley are white. Learning to be thoughtful parents of children of different races led the men to become more aware of the world they live in, and the privilege that has coddled them. Amara provided them with resources on transracial adoption, and Crowley and Martin reached out to Black friends to learn more about the cultures and identities of their children.

"I remember thinking, we cannot fail them in this regard. It is not an option. It's been a challenge; we're not perfect. We strive to do that for them every single day, as best we can," Martin said.

"In addition to that, we had to be really, really eyes wide open in terms of white privilege, in terms of what exists for us that might not be extended to our children, and as they grow up, what is that going to look like?" Crowley added. The dads explained how they began to realize just how much children's media is marketed toward white children. "We would overindex on the one Black Disney princess, Tiana, that exists out there, or Pocahontas or Mulan, anything we could to create diversity in the toys that exist."

Crowley acknowledged that "there is so much we don't know, and can never know. Being Caucasian people, we have never had to treat our hair or our skin in a different way," but with a devotion to loving their kids, instilling a sense of pride in their identity, and more hair care products than they had ever imagined, Crowley and Martin are bringing up three smart, socially aware, and very confident children.

Crowley and Martin's efforts seem to be working. I sat down to talk to Mirabel about what her experience has been like with two dads. Her first response was, "I love being mixed! I love having my siblings! I love having my parents! I just love my family!"

Mac and Derrick

Like Crowley and Martin, Mac Lowery always knew he wanted to be a father someday. "But it wasn't until I met Derrick, really... We just had a conversation — it wasn't even a debate — we both knew we wanted kids," Mac said, referring to his husband, Derrick Lowery.

Mac and Derrick met in 2015 when singing in a Gay men's choir, and in December of 2020 they took the leap, chosing to start their family via surrogacy. Six months later, they had chosen a surrogate and the embryos had been implanted.

Born in Mexico at just 31 weeks and 2 days, the babies were stuck in the NICU for nearly a month. "We weren't expecting them until February of 2021, so we didn't meet them until Inauguration Day, January 20th, because of COVID," Mac recalled.

From the day of their birth until he could hold them and take them home, Mac stayed in Mexico with his newborn sons. When it comes to being a first-time parent of twins, he was honest: "I'm tired, a lot. I consume a lot more caffeine than I ever had," he chuckled.

The exhaustion is worth it for the Lowreys, however. Mac gushed about his favorite parts of parenting: "Oh, their smiles! It was so hard in the beginning, and then finally one day, I got a smile and it was like, "Oh, that's why I'm doing this.'"

Looking toward the future, he is most excited for holidays with his sons, Rhys and Griffin, "but what I want most, I want them to talk. I'm waiting!" he laughed.

Mac and Derrick are aware that being Gay dads comes with unique challenges, and Mac was honest in discussing some of his fears when it comes to being a father. "If I make their life more difficult than it already is, that would really hurt me. So I have the plan to just be open and honest with them, finding ways to answer questions, and finding books specifically about how they came here."

Moving to Seattle was a conscious choice for Mac and Derrick, who like Crowley and Martin, are St. Louis natives. The Lowerys hoped starting a family in Seattle would allow their children to experience childhood in a welcoming and progressive atmosphere, as well as provide a beautiful natural environment for the boys.

"I am so jealous that this will be their hometown! Look at this! Look at this! We live here! This is their neighborhood, even! We walk here everyday. We can see Mt. Rainier from our house!"

George and Angela

Many children who grow up in the LGBTQ community don't have the same experiences of love and acceptance the Crowley and Lowery kids will get to experience. For some, father figures were found, sought out.

For decades, young Queer kids all around Seattle found a father figure in SGN editor George Bakan. It seems everyone in Seattle knew a beloved side of George, a large and friendly man, who dedicated his life to Seattle's Queer community.

But one person knew George like no one else, his daughter, Angela Cragin. When reading a sympathy card after George's passing last year, Angela came across words that seemed to embody the early relationship she shared with her father: "One thing I do know is that you were the light of his life. I remember when I had recently met him. I marveled at how he delighted in your toddler company and every mundane activity, having enormous patience with your curiosity and distractions. I thought this is what it looks like when fathers cherish their daughters."

George always treasured and loved Angela. Some of her fondest childhood memories were sitting atop George's broad shoulders. "You could see the world," she said smiling, as she remembered the pure love her father provided in her early childhood.

A strong sense of family was innate in George, who came from a large Mormon family that valued closeness. George not only fostered closeness but also pride in Angela's intelligence. "He would take me to the library, and I would look at books, and then all of a sudden he noticed I was kind of starting to read the words, and he went around bragging, 'Angela knows how to read at three! She's three and she knows how to read!'"

Angela laughed as she remembered how proud he always was of her. "That was the good part of my dad."

"As I got older, it got a little more difficult, because life does get a little more difficult as you get older," she reflected. George was kind and loving and proud, but there was another side to him, as there usually is to everybody. He could get angry, "and I was a little afraid of him," Angela remembered.

Through the anger, Angela still loved her father and cherished their relationship, until the day he left. "I was twelve years old when he went off on a business trip, and he never returned." George left Angela and her mom in financial ruin, with no contact for years. Angela grew up watching the bank take her home and belongings out from under her, wondering if her father was even alive.

George was alive, though. He had moved to Seattle. George had known he was Gay since he left the navy early in his twenties. His wife had known, but Angela never did.

"It just wasn't a topic anyone talked about," George said in an interview with the Legacy Project in March of 2020. Angela found out her father was Gay when she was a sophomore in high school, and she held onto that same sentiment: leaving George's sexuality a skelton in the family's closet. "He was exploring this other side of his life in Seattle," Angela acknowledged.

At the same time George had abandoned his only daughter, he had begun to nurture his new baby, the Seattle Gay News, becoming a father figure to Seattle's LGBTQ community.

The year Angela became a junior in high school, she reconnected with her father. "It was very tense, and it was hard, and awkward," she recalled. "Over time we established a relationship, but it was very complicated. I wanted him to know his granddaughters, and he completely enjoyed his granddaughters."

When Angela thinks of her father, she remembers him as gregarious, confident, charismatic, purposeful, and intimidating. While she could have held onto resentment toward him for abandoning her, Angela instead reflects on the struggles of their relationship with wisdom and hindsight. She has made peace with the fact that he needed to leave her and her mother to find himself, and to help others.

"Not only did he help others, he changed their lives. He fathered some of these people. He not only fathered them, he sometimes grandfathered them. A lot of people are shunned from their families, unfortunately, and here you have this great, big fatherly figure with big arms and hugs, and with him you're totally accepted."

While Angela grew up missing her father, and at times resenting him, she was ultimately able to look back and see that "the loss that I had, in the fatherhood piece, he gave that fatherhood to other people, and more people, who needed it more than I did, and I am at peace with that."

In adulthood Angela and George found a way back to each other. Time found a way of suturing old wounds. Angela was able to forgive George, and George was able to show his daughter the side of him he had hid from her for so long.

After George's passing, Angela stepped into George's literally very large shoes and began the task of saving the paper that had become George's life work.

George and Angela's bond is one that transcends time, mistakes, sexuality, and even death, as she dedicates her time now to preserving the legacy of her father, a man who became a father to hundreds of others.

Fatherhood is complicated, and sometimes, even the best people can get it wrong, but at the end of the day, it can be simplified into one word: love. For some, fatherhood is a journey, a fight to be recognized, a constant struggle. For others, it is an opportunity, a chance to give to someone what you didn't get yourself.

Fatherhood is about acknowledging mistakes. It is being there for your children, and loving them, regardless of their blood, race, gender, sexual orientation, age, or location — or if they are a fifty-year old Gay newspaper.