For gay couples in Alabama, it’s ‘one step forward, two steps back,’ say women who sued for marriage equality – AL.com

There’s a lot of love and laughter in the Aaron-Brush household in Alabama.

Ginger Aaron-Brush, 45, and April Aaron-Brush, 44, cherish the life they’ve built in Vestavia Hills, a suburb of Birmingham, with their daughter Avery Aaron-Brush, 15.

Giving the full names of all three family members is important in this case, because April and Ginger fought hard for the right to be recognized as a married couple in their home state — and for both of their names to be included on Avery’s birth certificate as her legal parents.

“We’re just regular people who wanted to have the same rights as other couples,” Ginger says.

Call them trailblazers for gay people in Alabama — activists or advocates who were brave enough to seek change and make history — and April and Ginger will reluctantly concur. Both women say they don’t think of themselves in that way, but other folks have used such terms.

“So many people have messaged us, or stopped us, or recognized us, that said, ‘You’re changing our futures. You’re trying to make things better,’” April says. “And those words have all been used by other people. But for us, we’re just like, ‘I don’t know; we did what we thought was right.’”

Here’s what they did, fighting for marriage equality in a conservative Southern state:

On June 10, 2014, April and Ginger filed a federal lawsuit against the State of Alabama. The lawsuit, filed on their behalf by the American Civil Liberties Union and the ACLU of Alabama, asked a judge to require Alabama to recognize same-sex marriages performed in other states and to treat those couples the same as different-sex couples.

The lawsuit didn’t seek to have same-sex marriages performed in Alabama. It challenged the state’s 1998 Protection of Marriage Act and the 2006 Sanctity of Marriage amendment, which prohibited the recognition of marriages performed in other states.

Ginger and April, who were married in 2012 in Massachusetts, were pushing for rights in Alabama that opposite-sex couples take for granted — such as the ability to change their names on drivers licenses after marriage and file joint state tax returns.

RELATED: ‘Marriage says we are family’: Birmingham women fight to force Alabama to recognize their Massachusetts marriage

One of the biggest rights they wanted involved their daughter. April had legally adopted Avery in 2007 as a single parent, when the girl was a newborn. But at the time, Ginger couldn’t also adopt their daughter under Alabama law.

RELATED: Vestavia Hills women to seek joint adoption of daughter as soon as stay is lifted

While their lawsuit was underway — along with two other lawsuits filed by other couples in different parts of Alabama, with help from the ACLU — the U.S. Supreme Court reached a decision in a landmark case known as Obergefell v. Hodges.

On June 26, 2015, SCOTUS struck down all state bans on same-sex marriage, legalized such marriages in all 50 states and required states to honor out-of-state same-sex marriage licenses.

This cleared the way for the Aaron-Brush family in Alabama, who immediately took steps to have Avery’s birth certificate amended, listing Ginger as a parent along with April.

“Everybody was rushing to get married, the day that it finally became legal in Alabama,” April says. “And they were all in the marriage line at the courthouse, and we were making our way to the adoption line, because we wanted to add Ginger to Avery’s birth certificate.”

This was a state milestone, lawyers have told the couple — the first time two people of the same sex were listed as parents on an adoption birth certificate in Alabama.

Fast-forward to summer 2022, and the Aaron-Brush family continues to thrive in Vestavia. Things haven’t always been easy, the women say, despite the change in their legal status. But happiness trumps frustration — on most days, anyway — and as two moms with one daughter, they’re busy with work, school, travel and more.

April is a federal employee, working for the Social Security Administration in Birmingham. Ginger is a physical education teacher in Pelham, teaching kids in kindergarten through fifth grade. Avery participates in a virtual learning program through Vestavia Hills City Schools, and is an enthusiastic and skillful gymnast. She hopes to attend Louisiana State University in a few years, and compete on the school’s gymnastics team.

Ginger and April also celebrated a personal milestone in June — their 10th wedding anniversary — with a trip back to Massachusetts.

“It was just the most amazing time,” Ginger say. “We went back to where we got married, and revisited there. Some of our friends who were at our wedding 10 years ago came with us. Another friend from New York City, who was at our wedding, came up. It was a lot of reminiscing. We ate at some of the same places, and how many times did we say, ‘Do you remember?’”

And, of course, it’s been eight years since they launched their legal crusade in Alabama.

Marriage equality remains a hot-button topic — not just here, but in many conservative states. On Saturday, for example, U.S. Sen. Ted Cruz said the U.S. Supreme Court was “clearly wrong” in the landmark ruling that legalized same-sex marriage.

The court was “overreaching,” the Texas Republican said in a podcast, adding that he believes the issue should be left up to the states.

U.S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas also has said the court should reconsider its ruling on same-sex marriage rights. He expressed his views in tandem with the court’s recent overturn of Roe v. Wade, the 1973 ruling that legalized abortion nationwide. In his writing, Thomas also said the court should reconsider federal protection of contraception and same-sex relationships.

With the issue of marriage equality in mind, AL.com sat down to chat with the Aaron-Brush family, catching up with them and asking about their experiences, past and present. What have their lives been like over the past seven or eight years? Are things better in 2022 for gay couples in Alabama? Have they seen significant progress or change?

Here’s what April, Ginger and Avery had to say, during an interview at their home that lasted nearly two hours. The family was welcoming and cordial, calm and thoughtful — ready to answer any question posed to them.

(Note: The conversation below has been edited for length and clarity.)

Ginger and April, you recently celebrated an anniversary. You’ve been married for 10 years, correct?

April: Twenty-five years total. We met in college and we had a little ceremony 25 years ago. Had a ceremony, had a cake, had some friends and just kind of started our relationship from that point. We consider that our first, not legal marriage, but our first marriage.

Does it seem like 10 years since you got married in Massachusetts?

Ginger: Yes, but it seems like yesterday, too. I guess what allows us to put the value on time is that Avery was 5 when we got married, and now she’s 15. It’s hard to believe she’ll be here for only three more years, before she goes to college. What’s the saying: “The days go slow but the years go fast”?

Did you get married in Alabama, once it became legal, just because you could?

April: We did not. Everybody was rushing to get married, the day that it finally became legal. And they were all in the marriage line at the courthouse, and we were making our way to the adoption line, because we wanted to add Ginger to Avery’s birth certificate.

You had a different priority?

April: Yes. For us, it was kind of been-there, done that. I’d done a lot of research to pick Massachusetts over the other states that were accepting marriages at the time, and felt that their laws were the least restrictive. And they were, I felt, a little further along in their progress, just towards equality. And their marriage certificate didn’t say — I think Vermont’s had “same sex marriage” at the top of their certificates — and Massachusetts was just “marriage certificate.” They didn’t care.

You would be amazed, when we were up there getting married, all the vendors that we used, they were all like, “So why did you come up here? Do you have family here?” And we were like, “It’s just legal here.” And they were like, “It’s not legal there? It’s not legal to get married in Alabama? I didn’t know that.” They’re oblivious to what’s going on that’s not immediately affecting them, but they were completely, just baffled, that we were so far behind.

Ginger: For us, getting married, to have that legal commitment was important, but we had already had that commitment for such a long time. Having the legal piece was important, but really, the stimulus for us was that Avery was starting school and we wanted to have the same last name. We did not want there to be any confusion when she started kindergarten of who her legal parents were. So really, that was probably one of the biggest factors in us getting married when we did.

April: We didn’t want to go to school and say, “I’m her mom, but this is also her mom, but … ” I called the school about a year beforehand, and I was like, “What do you need? We’re coming. We’re not hiding what we’re trying to do here. So if we come to you as a family with two moms, what do you need to be able to look at both of us as equal representations of parents?”

And they were like, “Well, we normally don’t ask for a marriage certificate for every couple, but for y’alls situation, I think that might be best, to keep on file just in case anything’s ever needed.” I think they tried as much as they could, to adapt and be the best they could.

With enrollment, to this day, we fill out the forms online and it still says “mother and father.” One of us ends up being a father, every time. Every year, I call the school and I’m like, “I know that y’all don’t set these forms, but would you please tell the people who set the forms that there are other families. Some people live with their grandparents, or with their aunts or uncles.”

Why can’t the form say “Guardian 1 and Guardian 2″? Or “Parent/legal guardian 1 and 2″? Even with standardized testing stuff, it’s still, “mother, father.” All the time I’m calling and telling them, “Hey, could you please think that there’s something outside this box that you want to put everyone in?”

But Avery’s teachers were really good. They’d make two gifts for mom on Mother’s Day. They tried to adapt the Father’s Day stuff to a grandparent. When she was in daycare, they did that. And I mean, they tried, as best they could. The teachers weren’t nearly as bad as the kids were.

Ginger: I think they placed Avery in those classes where the teachers were going to be accepting. I feel pretty confident they made sure of that, to limit any issues.

Avery, what was it like for you in school? What did the kids say or do?

Avery: It was not what I thought it was going to be. There were kids in the school that were nice, and just made me feel like a normal human, nothing’s wrong with me, had no issues. And then there were people that were the complete opposite. And bullied … I don’t know if that’s the right word. I wouldn’t say that it was less than bullying, but I wouldn’t say it was more than bullying. So I guess it was bullying.

They made you feel weird, for whatever reason?

Avery: Yeah. I got picked on a lot. Somebody tried to throw a punch at me. It was bad.

Ginger: I met with a counselor in Avery’s elementary school — she was amazing — and I was in there, talking to to her. I said, “You may not realize this, but Avery’s getting things from three different angles.” And she kind of looked at me. I said, “Well, she’s got two moms, so she’s getting picked on for that reason. And she’s biracial; we are in very white Vestavia. And Avery is adopted.”

The guidance counselor was like, “I didn’t even think of that.” Because Avery’s very open about her adoption, about being biracial, very open about having two moms.

It’s not something that we’ve ever asked her to withhold. It’s her story to tell. And we’ve not pushed her to march in and claim who she is, but we want her to be proud of her history and her story. And that is one thing about Avery … I guess she that kind of attitude of, “If you don’t like that I’ve got two moms, then we probably are not going to agree on a lot of other things.” And so Avery has just kind of had to navigate friends situations and things like that.

I remember in first grade, we got a call from her teacher — which is interesting, how this would go right now, with the recent legislation in schools — but Avery’s first-grade teacher called and she said, “Hey, I just want to tell you about a conversation that was had today, and one of the students — Avery was talking to the kid, and she said something about her moms, and one of the boys said, “Two women can’t get married,” and Avery said, “Of course they can.” …

So the teacher was letting us know that the child wasn’t meaning any disrespect or harm; he was just uneducated. He just didn’t know. And Avery was very adamant in making sure that he did know.

April: She’s kind of always been a little mini-advocate. We always told her, from the time we thought she was old enough to understand, that our fight isn’t her fight, if that makes sense. Us being gay and going and navigating through the legal world, in Alabama and in the United States, isn’t her fight.

Now, if she chooses to take a position on that, and fight with us, we will gladly accept that. But we never wanted her to feel like she had to go to bat for us. We would handle that part. “You fight for you, we’ll fight for us, and we’ll fight for each other.” But we never wanted her to feel like she had to do that. And from a very young age, she was a little mini-advocate. And was quick to say, “Oh, no, they’re married. I was there. I don’t understand what your problem is.”

You’ve thought about moving, right? Tell me about the decision to stay in Alabama and try to make change, instead of leaving for another state.

Ginger: Let me go back several years. I remember this like it was yesterday. We had a conversation about same-sex couples and how they should be allowed to get married. And we were so young at the time. I was like, “I just wish somebody would sue and try to make change.”

April: We never thought it would be us.

Ginger: And 15 years later, we never imagined that would be us. It was interesting how our whole, I guess, the navigation into our lawsuit, how that happened. At one point, we looked at each other and said, “Why not us? There may be someone younger than us who’s saying, ‘Would somebody please stand up and advocate, and fight for this?’”

So, how we even got into the lawsuit … it just kind of happened, happenstance. It’s kind of odd how the whole thing worked out. But, in terms of us not leaving, we felt that, one of the ways that progress happens is with visibility. We felt that by us being visible, it would help our community, would help our neighborhood and would ultimately help the state.

April: This is where I grew up. I mean, I’ve been in Vestavia since I was 5 years old. We moved from North Alabama to Vestavia, and I’ve been here ever since. I had a hard time being a lesbian in Vestavia. And I said, “You know, I don’t want that for the next kid.” … So what if we stay, and what if we try to show, just by living our lives just like everybody else, that, hey, we can be a PTO mom. Or we can volunteer at the school. And we can get to know the teachers, and just try to just show them.

Ginger: Reduce the stigma that we are anything other than an average family. But that’s not to say, once Avery graduates, and once we hit retirement, we will probably … We have decided we fought the good fight, and we’re leaving. It’ll be seven years or so, when we both retire.

April: Not to say that I regret staying, but I do question at times if staying was the right decision. Avery has had to grow up in a very difficult place. She grew up in a place where she was definitely a minority, in a bunch of different areas. And we home-schooled for a few years to navigate through that, and to help us be just a closer-knit family, because of gymnastics being so time-consuming. We wanted any other time we could with her. But I think we missed out on being able to be our authentic selves everywhere.

We have a family motto: Live fearlessly authentic. We’ve done it to our best extent, but we still — like, Ginger and I will not go into the Publix and touch each other. We will not hold hands. We still to this day will not hold hands in public. When we were on our (anniversary) trip, it’s so different for us. It feels so awkward to show affection in public, that even when we can, it’s like we have to make a conscious effort to show affection in public. It’s just so ingrained in our minds that we need to be respectful of the people who don’t think like us, and we want to make sure they’re not uncomfortable, and you don’t know how they’re going to react.

Ginger: We know our safe spaces. And I think, had we lived differently, in a different place where that was more open and welcoming, I’m curious to see how that would have affected Avery, as well as just affected us. I mean, we’ve made it. We’ve managed to make it all these years. But how much happier could it have been, had we just been able to hold hands and walk in the park, like all the other people?

Do you think that’s a generational thing for women in Alabama? It seems like there’s a generation of women who are closeted, a generation that’s out but doesn’t really talk about it, and a generation that’s very open, holding hands in public.

April: Yes, pretty much. I would say that all of our close friends are a generation older than us. All of them, with the exception of one set, are closeted. Very quiet, some of them don’t even tell their families. Never had children, and they just live very under the radar. We’ve got one friend set who are older than us who have a child, and they really, really, really struggled. But when we formed our parent group and got to meet younger generations — the ones that came after us — it is night and day. The difference, and the feeling of just freeness that they have, that we don’t have.

Ginger: I still think they’re pretty restricted about publicly hand-holding and things like that. I think they’re freer than we are, but we’re still in Alabama.

April: You just don’t know how people are going to react. And today’s situation of where we’re at right now, even the most open couple in Alabama is going to hesitate, because they fear for their safety.

Ginger: As a teacher, I’ve always had to be very private. Just afraid what would happen if parents or students found out. Our lawsuit kind of opened that up. And I’ve honestly never had anything negative, which was surprising. I mean, I don’t know what my expectations were. … But even now, I mean, for so long, like if we were in the mall, and a parent or a kid would come up, April knew to walk away. And I would talk to the child, I would talk to the family, and then let them walk on. But now, sometimes, I’m like, “I wish you hadn’t have walked away. That’s so-and-so, and they’re so cool.”

April: I always used to say “spouse,” because that doesn’t give an indication of anything. And now I get a kick out of saying, “my wife.” And I like to watch people and look at their reaction. And if I don’t like their reaction, I’m like, “ah, never mind.”

Percentage-wise, what’s the reaction? Are most people OK with it?

April: I think we have a false sense of that percentage, because we tend to surround ourselves in safe spaces. We no longer attend church. We felt that we had a safe space in church, and we didn’t, so we left. And we haven’t gone back. We went to virtual schooling, so we don’t have that interaction as much with the school. I mean, I have to deal with them, and she has to deal with them, but the amount we have to deal with them, because she’s virtual through the school system, is minor.

We’re not as involved as we previously were at Avery’s gym, so we assume they’re all fine with it. If they’re not, we don’t know. We’re not there enough to know. She seems to not have any issues.

Ginger: I have my own insurance through my school system, but I’m also under April’s family insurance benefits, so often I’ll go to a doctor’s office, and I’m like, “This is my primary; this is my secondary.” And they’ll say, “Who’s April?” And, “That’s my wife, that’s my spouse.” But usually, we have navigated the system, where we try to seek out providers that other gay or lesbian couples have used, and had positive experiences.

April: We don’t just haphazardly do anything. Everything is very methodical, and everything is very meticulous, intended to keep ourselves as safe as possible. So in our little world, I’d say 95 percent is accepting. But it’s extremely skewed because we navigate it to be that way. I would say, outside of our bubble that we’ve created, it’s about 50-50, here in Alabama.

Ginger: You never know what you’re going to get.

April: You travel north, that changes, but here, about 50-50. We just tend to only pick the one 50.

Birmingham, in general, is more accepting than some small towns in Alabama, correct?

April: Birmingham has actually a fairly decent gay community. Huntsville has a large gay community. They’re pretty active. They’ve got their own Pride now. And Birmingham and their community is a lot larger than people give them credit for. There’s a lot of folks. Every year, we went to Pride — we didn’t go this year because we were out of town for the whole thing — but it’s getting larger and larger every year.

Ginger: I remember you saying some years, “Hey, let’s go to Pride.” And I would say, “I can’t. What if a TV camera is there?” I’m a teacher; there’s no way I could be seen there.

April: I mean, we would go to gay bars and park with the tag up against the building, back into the parking place so the tag would not be seen on the car. Or, if there wasn’t a parking place that limited the visibility of the tag, we wouldn’t go. We would just come back home. And you would only go late, late at night. And very infrequently, because it was just a risk.

Ginger: But when we filed out lawsuit, there was no way to … It was a full media storm, lots of promotion, lots of interviews. We’re sitting there eating dinner, watching TV, and we’ve got the news on, and you see your face.

April: Or you walk into the grocery store and someone recognizes you. But what little bit of fame we have, and I use that word very lightly, it’s the most awkward feeling to watch yourself plastered across the screen.

Ginger: But the lawsuit allowed me to be out. And that was a weight off my shoulders. I had compartmentalized my life. My private life — my family life — and my work life. And the two never, ever intermingled. But I am probably at the most joyful time in my career, in terms of being open. … For so, so long, probably until the lawsuit — I guess I taught 16, 17 years before that — I think I came out to three people at my school.

April: And then you woke up the next day …

Ginger: And everybody knew.

Do you think of yourselves as trailblazers in Alabama?

April: We personally don’t, but so many people have messaged us, or stopped us, or recognized us, that said, “You’re changing our futures. You’re trying to make things better.” And those words have all been used by other people. But for us, we’re just like, “I don’t know; we did what we thought was right.”

Ginger: We were just regular people who wanted to have the same rights as other couples.

April: We were sick of carrying around a power of attorney, and wills, and (a document that detailed) what to do with Avery, and what to do in case of emergency. I mean, I was sick of carrying all that around. And just having to do all the extra stuff. We just felt like what we were doing, was what we were supposed to do.

Ginger: There was always the worry, if something did happen to you, and we were in a hospital, what would I be able to do. Would I be able to make decisions for April? But also, would I be able to make decisions for Avery? To us, that was terrifying, to just be unprotected.

April: We had friends who wouldn’t be able to go into the hospital with their partners, because they weren’t legally married. And that terrified us. So we immediately told all our friends, “You must get married. Y’all, I know you’re old school. I know you’re closeted. You don’t have to change your names. You don’t have to tell anybody. Just legally get married so you can protect yourself.”

Ginger: Even before we were legally married, we went ahead and planned our funerals.

April: Our funerals are paid for, because we wanted to make sure they did what we wanted to occur, and there was no questioning. … I mean, we have more legal documents. I think corporations could run with less documents than we had, at one point in time.

Ginger: We wanted to make sure our T’s were crossed and our I’s were dotted. We still think about this. Avery being an only child, we want the simplicity for her.

Do you think things are better in 2022 for gay people, or people with alternative lifestyles, in Alabama?

Ginger: Well, let’s look nationally. Nationally, there’s so much more visibility — representation on TV shows, you’ve got more representation in elected officials. I think visibility is hugely, hugely important. Even in Alabama, visibility is getting there, and it’s getting better. But yet we’re still passing legislation that affects transgender kids. And there’s still policies and laws that discriminate against people who are LGBTQIA.

April: I think we took one step forward, two steps back. So we have a little bit of progress. We’ve seen a little bit of change. And I think we tried to move in the right direction, and then we stumbled a bit. … We made a little progress, then we allow stupid bills to keep coming through.

Ginger: I think marriage equality, the people who were anti-LGBTQIA policies, when marriage equality came, it scared them. That’s when you started seeing more legislation and more statewide bills that were anti.

April: They were scared. I think marriage equality did scare a lot of people. “Well, that’s too much, too fast, it’s too quick.” And so they felt like they needed to pull back what they could, where they could. And that’s locally, with city ordinances, or with state bills. It was: “Well, we don’t want to talk about it in the schools.” Or: “Don’t be trans. Whatever do you, stay away from all the trans people.”

It’s like they just got scared, because they saw progress. And I think it was a little fast for them. Too much progress, too fast. Even my own family says, “I think that it’s OK for you to be legally protected. But do we have to call it a marriage? Can’t we give it another name?” We both struggle with family issues.

You mentioned leaving your church. What happened there?

April: Ginger was the vice-chair of deacons, right when marriage equality came through. And up until that point, everything had been great. And then when marriage equality came through, the deacons had a meeting, and were discussing opening the church sanctuary for same-sex marriages. And the church as a whole did not want to.

They wanted it to be a process they had to apply, and then they would decide on a case-by-case basis, if you could or couldn’t get married in the sanctuary. Ginger came back and said, “We’ve not done that for the straight couples.” We’d actually been members there for years and years and years.

Ginger: And we were heavily involved.

April: Heavily, heavily involved. She was vice-chair of deacons; I was in charge of the children’s ministry, all of it. And we just stopped in our tracks.

Ginger: I think it was just the hypocrisy. And even now, the church still claims inclusivity. I mean, they walked in the Pride parade and were a participant.

April: But I hesitate to say they were a participant. Yes, they were there. They walked. But the problem is, it’s the same 10 folks every time. And the church as a whole is not on board with those 10 people. It’s just that the 10 people happen to be in a little higher authority than the rest. But when it comes to the church as a congregation making a decision, the congregation as a whole did not want that. And they still, to my understanding, don’t allow that.

This is a place where we had raised our child, and she was dedicated and she was baptized. We were floored, to say the very least. And that became a big ripple, and I would venture to say that about 20 people left the church because of it. That feeling of being safe, and it being completely ripped from you, overnight, left such a bad taste in our mouths that every time we’d go to a different church and visit, you just, in the back of your mind, think, well. they claim this, but …

Ginger: We became guarded and didn’t want to become invested. We didn’t want to, I guess, be truly authentic, in the event that they were not as accepting as what they had said. And so we still haven’t found a church. … But some of our best friends came from (our former) church.

April: A hundred percent. A thousand percent. We met some amazing people and they’re still our closest friends to this day. So they always say, “There’s a time and there’s a season.” And I think it had its place, and it served a righteous purpose, in doing amazing things for our family. But it was really sad how it all just crumbled so quickly. So cut and so quick.

Ginger: In hindsight, if we had not left, and if other people not left, maybe we could have made change there. But it just hurt too bad.

If you could pick one thing — the next piece of progress that we have in Alabama — what would it be?

Ginger: For me, I think it would just be kids being safe and secure at school. I worry about trans kids and gay kids and just kids who are different. I struggle with there being legislation put on situations where parents should be making decisions. And even though we’ve made this huge progress with marriage equality, and with rights that we have, I think right now our focus really should be on our kids. Because they are our future. …

The thing is, people say we didn’t have all these trans kids and gay kids (in the past), but we did have them. It’s just now we’re creating such a safe space for them that they’re being themselves at a younger age. Which is great, but it’s also so hard. School is hard enough, then add in these differences. So I worry. Those kids are more likely to commit suicide.

Part of it is that when many LGBTQIA kids, they run away or they’re homeless, and their parents just disown them, and they end up in the foster system. And many times, they may end up in a home that is not accepting. They need to be in homes that are safe for them.

April: The Every Child Deserves a Family Act is huge, and it needs to be pushed through. It needs a lot of visibility, because these kids need safe spaces and these foster kids need to be able to be adopted. They don’t need any roadblocks getting in their way. And they need to be protected in their schools and in their homes. That, to me, is the big thing moving forth, is these children. And preventing laws that allow religious organizations to prohibit foster parents being gay. We have a lot of those in Alabama.

Looking back, would you change anything about your fight for marriage equality?

April: I wouldn’t change anything at all. I might add to it, but I wouldn’t take it away. I might have tried to fight harder, earlier, but I don’t regret any step that we took. We still try to get involved. I still make calls to that stinkin’ school, trying to tell them their forms are not right. I still correct doctors’ offices. The fight still continues.

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