Last Friday’s rally against hate brought the changes we have achieved in the last 40 years into specific – and bold – relief for me.

Until now, I never had to answer the question, “Will you bring your daughter to the rally?” by asking, “Which one?” For nearly three decades, I have had only one daughter, Teresa. Ryan changed all that three months ago, and has helped me to understand, in a profound way, how much the hard work of thousands has helped to change our world.

As I thought about whether I would take Ryan to a hate crimes rally, the kind of rally that Teresa has attended countless times, I thought about what I hoped the message for Ryan would be.

I hoped the message would be threefold. First, that hate crimes try to make the victims feel alone, helpless and victimized. But look at the thousands who will stand with them and for them. They are not alone, and will never be. We are not a community of victims, but instead a remarkable community of compassionate survivors who have fought and struggled to achieve great things. We will not leave our own alone in the dark, ever!

Second, that years and years of collective hard work, participation in policy and politics, letter writing, calling, protesting and voting can make a tremendous difference in your world. Today we have a council member, a state senator, two members of Congress, a district attorney, a city attorney, a police chief and two mayors who will stand with us, and do the right thing. That has been achieved by the work and dedication of thousands of fair-minded San Diegans who have never given up and have continued to hope and work toward equality.

And finally, Ryan, I want you to someday understand that the decades of work – long before your time – allow you to join a community that will love and protect you. You are a beneficiary of all of that work and will stand on the shoulders of many. And you are a part of a state, a city and a community that needs you. They need your time, your talent and your treasure in order to carry forward the work of equality for all.

Teresa was born into a world where same-sex marriage, different visions of healthy families and military service were not even a part of the social dialogue. The conversation three decades ago was about whether LGBT citizens were fully human or were instead deeply flawed aberrations. She was born only two years after the American Psychological and Psychiatric Associations finally removed homosexuality from their list of mental disorders. And her early life reflected our struggle. In her words, she probably “came out” (to teachers, doctors, friends, boyfriends and their families) more times in her first 20 years than did the entire populations of some Midwestern towns. Teresa didn’t grow up in a Family Pride, Family Matters, Children’s Garden world. And the tragedy of Matthew Shepherd is engraved in her memory.

My two daughters will lead very different lives, as they were born into very different worlds. Ryan inherits a community that is more welcoming of her and her family. Ryan will grow up in a time where social science research shows that kids raised by LGBT parents do just fine – Teresa is part of the generation that was studied to prove it.

What I felt Friday night was simply gratitude. Gratitude for the thousands who have worked for their entire lifetimes to create the world Ryan now inherits. Your struggle and your work have made the world a brighter, better place for my first daughter, and a safer place for my second.