Double dads and their kids redefine family
A new book by a former Portland man offers diverse portraits of gay parenthood
By JILL SPITZNASS     Issue date: Tue, Nov 4, 2003 The Tribune

When their son was born, ex-Portlanders David Strah and Barry Miguel named him Zev, Hebrew for "wolf."

"We decided our son needed a name that would be different, since he would be biracial; strong, since he would have two dads; and reflective of his Jewish upbringing," Strah explains in his new book, "Gay Dads: A Celebration of Fatherhood."

As it turns out, Zev, now 5, has flourished despite what might have been challenging circumstances. Taunted on the playground by a classmate for being adopted and for having two dads, Zev kept his cool. Duly impressed, the classmate announced, "I'm adopted, too," which he was not.

Zev lives in New York City with the men he calls his "forever daddies" and his 2-year-old sister, Summer, who also is adopted and biracial. He's part of an extraordinary new family unit in the United States: the gay family, one that has come into the national spotlight recently. Studies suggest that as many as 5 million children have found loving homes by either being born to or adopted by gay men.

Strah's book is a moving tribute to these new families, told through interviews with 24 gay couples who have made the journey to fatherhood, many despite formidable prejudice.

"For everyone that I interviewed, the biggest challenge is just becoming a dad," says Strah, 36, a former director of development at the Oregon Zoo.

"Everyone has also experienced some pretty major discrimination, whether it was with the adoption agency, a social worker or a birth mother who's not sure she wants her child going to two men," he says. "One birth mother was left on the examining table when she told her doctor that two gay men were adopting her baby."

Strah, now a stay-at-home dad, says the seeds for the book were planted shortly before he and his partner, 44-year-old former Nike executive Barry Miguel, adopted Zev in 1998.

"When we started thinking about becoming dads there was nothing out there, nothing that gave the full range of information about adoption, surrogacy, foster care and co-parenting," he says.

As Zev grew, an absence of information about similar families motivated Strah to take action.

"There was nothing with photographs, nothing to show my son that there are other families like us. Then I got to know other gay dads over the years, and everyone had such fantastic stories that I thought really needed to be told."

Strah cast a wide net in his search for a variety of gay fathers to profile in his book.

"I advertised on the Internet, through word of mouth and organizations," he says of the two-year project that was executed largely as his children slept. "I tried to get a real diversity from all over the country, so I interviewed about 100 gay dads, and then we narrowed it down to the 24 couples."

Black-and-white photos capture scenes of families. They range from professionals in San Francisco to hairdressers in Texas. But despite their racial, geographical and financial differences, it's the similarities that shine through. Most notable: a parenting instinct that Miguel calls "as real as the maternal instinct, but less realized."

The number of biracial children profiled in the book also stands out, something that Strah says is based on availability, not choice.

"It's really a phenomenon within a phenomenon that there are these white gay dads that are adopting kids of color," he says. "But most of the kids that are up for adoption in the United States are of color. Sadly, most people still want blond, blue-eyed children."

It's a phenomenon in which gay men may have an advantage.

"I like to think that we're a little more equipped with those issues (of prejudice) because we've -- hopefully -- dealt with our own," Strah says. "It's a lot to deal with, but in a way it's wonderful because we're really redefining the family."

The book also touches on themes that are universal to both gay and straight parents.

"Having kids can be a real distancer from your friends who don't have kids," the author says. "It's kind of sad, but I don't think it's unique to gay men; it's a part of having kids -- you no longer have as much in common with people who don't.

"I used to feel like the world was made up of straight and gay people. Now it's people with kids and people without kids."