Jenny & Mom & the HRC

Two weeks before the incredible 2024 Human Rights Campaign (HRC) Equality Convention, my front-of-house manager and I were at Ronald Reagan Airport waiting for our flight back to PDX from a very successful pop-up at Hotel Zena for Women’s Equality Day. Sitting at the gate, I get a text from a friend of a friend. It’s Chantel Mattiola, co-founder of Women LEAD at HRC and back-in-the-day baller teammate of my homegirl, Kelsey Trainor:

 “I have a cool opportunity for you in DC next week at our annual Equality Convention and National Dinner... will send you more details if you’re interested and available.”

I literally lol and tell them, “I AM IN DC NOW!” And feel a bit exasperated because this always seems to happen to me — being in the very epicenter of serendipity, even if it’s tragically ironic or entirely a scene out of a dramedy (my fave BTW). Chantel and I exchange pleasantries and I ask her to shoot me the deets. 

I return home to the dewy, fresh air of PDX and immediately ask my people, “Is this something I turn around and get back on the plane for?” And their immediate and unanimous answer is, “Yes.”

School is about to start, so my girlfriend’s kids are getting ready for their first day, and she can’t go with me. I am used to traveling solo, so I tell HRC it’s a party of one. Then, at the last minute, I decide to invite Mom. She’s turned 67 this year and as I get older every day, I start to think about our remaining time together. Things have never been better between us (and there’s a lot here, Asian kids know what I’m talking about) and I just decide that Mom and I should go to this together. And I am so glad we did.

From the moment Mom and I catch a ride to PDX together, she’s beaming. But the best is yet to come. I work on the plane. I’ve found that those 5+ hours in a capsule at 30,000 feet really do wonders for my concentration. (I have to mention that we sat with THE ENTIRE THORNS TEAM on the flight. Like, Olivia Moultrie sat across the aisle from me and Sophia Smith was two rows up.) As soon as we land, I take a call on the tarmac and another in the rideshare to the hotel. We check in and I have two more meetings. Chantel calls me:

“When do you get in? Are you and your mom interested in joining us for dinner tonight?” 

Mom and I had planned a quiet night, as we knew that Friday was the Equality Convention and Saturday was the big to-do: the National Dinner. But after reading the invite that popped into my mailbox when we landed, and after a few more texts with Chantel, it was clear that this Thursday evening welcome dinner would help to set the stage for the entire weekend. So as soon as my second Zoom meeting wrapped, we got on the elevator and headed to the ballroom. I was still in my airplane outfit: sweats.

I met Chantel for the first time at the hotel lobby. She told me to “look for the lesbian,” which I thought was silly but worked. She welcomed us both very warmly and we started to realize that the lobby and the escalators were filled with folks in rainbow tees, Harris for Prez pins and generally just a super queer vibe. We stepped right on into the banquet hall where Kelly Robinson, President of HRC, was giving her usual rousing, coach-of-the-year pep talk to an audience of about 500. I realized that this was not just any welcome dinner — I was severely under-dressed. 

Chantel mentioned we would be seated at a table with really wonderful people.What she neglected to mention was: 1) the table was front-and-center to the podium (and we were two hours late to a three-hour dinner), and 2) it was the Disney family's table (yeah, like THAT Disney family) and their closest friends. We make our way to our seats in the dark while President Robinson is in her final come-to-Cher moment and we get situated. Immediately this GORGEOUS man welcomes me:

"Oh my gosh, you must be Jenny from The Sports Bra! Charlee is a HUGE fan!"

I introduce Mom and myself as best I can around the table in the din of the next few animated and cheery speakers. Clearly there is a matriarch here and she flashes a kind, warm and sincere smile from across the table. Charlee is here with their partner and the gorgeous man is here with his. As soon as there’s a break in the speakers we dive in.

Garrett and I feel like long-lost besties and connect immediately. Charlee comes over to introduce themself and as soon as we shake hands, we go in for a warm embrace. Meanwhile Mom and Mrs. Disney are holding each other's hands and exchanging numbers — something magical is afoot.

I won’t detail the rest of the weekend, but just know that it all started there, at the welcome dinner we almost didn't attend, and it somehow all kept getting better.  The friends and then family we met there and who we texted, ate, laughed, and danced with for the remainder of our trip. When we weren’t seated together at the National Dinner, the Disneys asked HRC staff to find us and bring us to their table even though they literally had the GUESTS OF HONOR at their table: Leslie Odom Jr. and Cynthia Erivo!!!

But one of the greatest takeaways from the entire trip was that Mom and I were surrounded by people like us — Parents with LGBTQIA+ children, children who had LGBTQIA+ parents and everyone in between. Mom got to meet and connect with people who had been in her shoes, who WERE in her shoes. She got to speak to and hug and cry with other parents who have had their own inner struggles, their own fears, their own biases and their own parting of the clouds and their own full embrace of the beauty of their babies. I’ve been on a lot of trips since The Bra opened and many of them have been fantastic. But this one was special. And I know for a fact that the magic came from sharing it with Mom, and from Mom sharing it with all those people in DC.

And I cannot overstate that this year's HRC National Dinner felt IMPERATIVE. The urgency, the weight, the gravity of not just an election year, but THIS PARTICULAR election year. There are no sidelines. You are either fighting in the game of your life or you aren’t. I could not be more grateful to HRC for the opportunity to be on the field in our fight for our lives.