Today’s my birthday. I turn 33.

I’m not bemoaning the fact. I’m sort of excited about it, actually. This past year has been quite a ride (with a rather phenomenal ending) and even though I’m only three years into my thirties, so far this decade’s been a blast.

I never celebrate my birthday alone. I share my birthday with my younger brother, Casey. We were born on the same day, four years apart (apparently there were either some impressive strategic planning by my parents or, as my mom tells it, a doctor with a weird sense of humor).

And we’re both gay. I think it has something to do with the fact that our birthday is also Cher’s birthday. But there’s no real science to back that claim.

My little Cajun parents had two sons, born on the same day, both gay as blazes. It wasn’t the family they planned on. It certainly wasn’t one they ever thought would be in the cards for them. And it was a family they were decidedly unprepared for.

But they did something sort of extraordinary for little Cajun parents: they loved us unconditionally, even though we were gay.

I came out to my parents when I was 18, and my brother came out just a few years later. And while most of my gay friends can talk about the line of demarcation between “before I came out” and “after I came out,” that line was never drawn for my brother and me. My parents never judged us, never got angry, never diminished us or ostracized us – they just loved us.

In fact after coming out, my father and I had only one conversation about it. He asked, “Does this make you happy?”

I said, “Yes.”

“Then that’s all we need to know. We support you.”

And here I am, fifteen years removed from that conversation, turning 33 and blogging about my Big Fat Gay Louisiana Life for readers all over the country. My younger brother turns 29 and is enjoying a break from his job touring internationally as a performer with Disney Live. In both of our lives, being gay is a comfortably public and ultimately inconsequential part of who we are. We’re successful adults in successful relationships, and our parents are participating (and supporting) every step step of the way.

Sometimes I wonder what otherworldly wisdom descended upon my parents to allow them to make the choice they did. Because while my brother and I had no choice in being gay, they had the choice to accept us or reject us. And in 1994 in Lafayette, Louisiana, the conventional wisdom dictated rejection.

But they made the other choice, as difficult as it was for them. And that choice changed our lives. That choice made our lives possible.

The fact that my parents were able make that choice, in a way, makes them accidental activists. And every year their activist streak gets stronger. My mom always makes sure I’ve heard which new state I can get legally married in. My dad often will tell me about how he speaks out for gay people at work (he’s a fleet mechanic for FedEx).

And they visit 365Gay.com to read my blogs (and others, I hope).

The South remains a problematic place for LGBT people, especially places like south Louisiana. There’s still a great deal of hostility, discrimination, harmful legislation, misinformation, and religious condemnation. But there are also people like my parents here. People who buck the conventional wisdom and in small ways do as much good for the gay community here as a parade or rally. And they’re making a difference.

They’re outnumbered, of course, but in the darkness even a glimmer of light is something.

Cody Daigle is the entertainment writer for The Times of Acadiana and a blogger on gay issues for theadvertiser.com in Lafayette, Louisiana.