Dear Mr. President,

I hope this message finds you well and looking forward to some rest and relaxation and holiday cheer with friends and family. I feel like, before I write much more, I should share: I’ve never, in my entire life, written a letter to any politician or any celebrity or famous person. I’ve never felt like anything I had to say would rise above the muck and be seen, or would matter all that much. But this time, it doesn’t really matter. I have to say these things whether you see them or not.

Thank you. I have to start by saying thank you.

This is my family.

Laura and I have been together for 23 years. After 9 years of excitement, anxiety, disappointment, and heartbreak trying to make a family, our son Mack joined us 13 years into our partnership. Mack was born in 2006 in Texas, in a tiny town about 40 miles from Houston. While his first mother and her family were enthusiastic about a same gender couple being his family, the community and the hospital were anti-adoption and anti-gay. And they were aggressive and vocal in their beliefs. Right up until the very last minute Laura and I imagined the worst, but hoped for the best. Even as we signed our papers in a smoky Applebee’s in the middle of Texas, after having been literally chased from the hospital with our newborn son in a rented carseat, we were afraid someone would come and take him. But, after laying low in a Houston hotel for 10 days, and getting some help from some politically connected friends back in MN, we made it home with our boy. And, Sir, I can’t tell you how certain I am that the divine happens: This boy is our son, absolutely. He is the person we were waiting for. We belong together.

I tell you all of this because I don’t think Laura and I had any idea what we were signing up for or how unqualified we are to raise an African American boy. He is my whole heart — walking around outside of my body. Isn’t that what they say? But love isn’t enough, and every day we are reminded of that reality.

In 2008 Mack was just learning to form whole sentences. Most of what he said was gibberish. But I remember, clear as anything, the day he recognized that he looked like you. He was laying on the floor on his back, a chubby toddler in a sleeper, rolling around and pointing at the television while his parents excitedly watched your inauguration. He pointed and said O-BAM-AAAAAA. And then he said, “He looks like MEEEEEEEE.” Over and over he repeated, “OHHHHH-BAHM-MAAAH! Looks like MEEEEEEE!!” I cried and posted a short clip on Facebook. But I don’t think anyone else felt what we did. We were crying tears of joy and possibility and hope. The hope you promised. The hope we felt for our boy.

I’ve been gay for as long as I remember. When I first came out I was ashamed and I felt like a deviant. My parents wanted me right back in that closet for eternity. I worked very hard for the first half of my out life to hide and to try to make everyone around me, who knew me, comfortable with me. I worried more about everyone else’s feelings about me than I did for me myself. I grew up learning how to apologize and compromise so that other people wouldn’t feel uneasy around me. That was how we survived. We stayed mostly in the closet. We told our closest friends, but we didn’t subject them to discomfort by being real.

Over the years I realized that nobody can live a real life that way. And when Laura and I welcomed Mack into our orbit we promised each other that no matter what happened in the world, we would never apologize for our family. We would stand tall and together and proud, always. But that promise was not without its challenges. Even in our first few days, waiting in Texas for our approval to head to MN, I remember feeling afraid for our safety when stopping for gas at a rural gas station. Living out and proud was not going to be easy. But we owed it to our boy.

You helped us keep our promise to our son. And for that I am so grateful. The change we’ve experienced, and that I’ve felt, in this country over the course of your presidency has been remarkable. I’m so proud of how far we’ve come. Personally, I went from wavering in telling my clients and business colleagues about who I really was to doubling down in my activism and fight for equality. I now use my company as a springboard for engaging the business community in critical human rights discussions. And I know, from owning a business and being a leader, that the culture of a system begins with its leadership. Without leadership that truly reflects and lives solid, meaningful values, an organization cannot be aligned with those values. As a country, our values were changing. We were waking up. Having the tough conversations. Welcoming people in — to our tables, our businesses, our communities. We were seeing and hearing each other. And for the first time in my whole life I felt accepted absolutely. My family was solid and we were raising our son with a tremendous sense of belonging. But also, a sense of what it means to be a part of community, to be active and to effect change.

When you said you support gay marriage and your family acknowledged your friends and loved ones that are gay — when you normalized our community by loving your people — you changed the world for us. And you made the world for my son. You represent this beautiful intersection for him. You are black. You are the President of the United States. And you have love for those in the LGBTQ community. Soon, the world seemed to follow your lead. States were finding their way to equality. Marriage equality was happening. The Supreme Court understood and validated all of us when they validated Ms. Windsor. The Obergefell case made it real. But without you, I don’t know that any of it would have happened.

We’ve spent the last several years living in a world where we felt equal and proud and hopeful. Certainly we were sensitive to the work that remained. We knew that racism, sexism, and bigotry still needed our energy and attention, but we were also still hopeful that our work could actually effect change. After all, we’d witnessed it first hand.

But then the 2016 election happened. We thought we were loud enough, we thought we worked hard enough, but something fell short. The voices that’ve been amplified since then are voices of hate and division and fear. In the face of what I’m hearing now, it’s hard to stay hopeful. But, Mr. President, because of you we have seen what can happen when a nation believes in its people. We have seen what can happen when leadership insists on emphasizing the value of all people. We know how powerful hope can be.

So we missed. We fell down. We didn’t do the work. We didn’t listen to each other. We didn’t have the right conversations. We have a new President-elect who has no real concern for the people of this country. He certainly has no awareness of how families like mine struggle to feel validated, valued, or safe. He has no compassion or empathy for what it must be like to be a little brown-skinned boy being raised by two white women, waking up the day after the election to ask your moms, “What will happen to me now?”

When my son asked that, I answered: “The President doesn’t keep you safe, buddy. He doesn’t take care of you. That’s my job. And I promise you, no matter what happens, I will keep you safe.”

I guess I’m writing to you today to thank you. Because what I said there isn’t exactly true. For a time, during your presidency, my family felt safe because of you. We felt normal. We felt that sense of belonging that everyone longs for, yet some people achieve more easily. And for that I will be forever grateful.

Now, we do the work. Now, we march and talk to each other; we show up, we campaign, we reach out and have the tough conversations. We do more work. In the meantime, my son, Mack, would like to extend an invitation to you and your family to come by for dinner after you’ve had your rest. He’s convinced that once you aren’t so busy, it might actually be possible. Because I promised him I would, I’m presenting that invitation on to you. It would be an honor for my family to welcome your family into our home any time. Laura is an excellent cook. And Mack is a delightful conversationalist. When that fails, he can also do back flips.

Thank you, Mr. President. You made us matter in ways we didn’t even know mattered. God bless you. Enjoy your time away. But, please do come back.

Warmly and sincerely,

Nancy