LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
StudentCAMP: One Big Happy Family (And Then a Fag) |
by Adam |
Last week I did the unspeakable, or at least that which I led you in my first column to believe I would never do: I came out to my parents. It was interesting. Obviously, since I am writing this article after the fact, I am alive (though I will admit that, for a brief time, this prospect was uncertain). In fact, my home life is now happier and more relaxed than it has been in years. But now Im getting ahead of myself. Let me go back and explain how this all came about. Last Monday morning, I was sitting on the porch drinking my coffee. My dad decided on this particular morning to join me, and, for reasons which may forever remain a mystery, began asking me if I was interested in dating any particular girl. To which I, being the honest queer that I am, replied "no." Then he decided to push the issue. "Well, are there ANY girls that youre interested in?" "No," I responded a second time. "And is there any particular reason for this?" he questioned insistently. (It is at this point that things begin to become very confused. You see, it was right then that someone said something which came from inside of my mouth. However, this person, I assure you, was not me. Thus do the laws of physics become suspect because one wonders how a man small enough to fit inside of my mouth could still be loud enough to echo his ultimatum off of a mountain range in Asia Minor. But back to my narrative.) "Im gay," the-man-inside-of-my-mouth-who-was-not-me responded. The world became suddenly quite silent. In fact, airplanes around the peninsula must have stopped mid-flight in order to accomplish such a silence. And then, returning to their senses like good planes, recognized the impossibility of stopping mid-air and crashed to the ground. Loudly. This is the noise that hundreds of airplanes crashing simultaneously made: "Noyourenot!" It was all one word. It was my dad. Not the-man-inside-of-my-dads-mouth-who-was-not-him. It was my dadcompletely him. "Actually, I am," I stated, rather flatly. Im afraid I did not quite catch on. He then began to "explain" to me how he felt about this. I could transcribe for you what it was that he said. But if I did, it would probably look like the transcript of the Nixon tapes by the time the editor was through with it. (Explanation of above joke: the newspaper editors at that time were so disgusted by Nixons use of "uncouth language" that they replaced every offensive word with: [expletive deleted]. The result was a ream of documents with every other word being [expletive deleted]. Now, onward.) The worst part is my dad believes that the "homosexual lifestyle" is something actively chosen. Furthermore, he was, at the time, bent upon "converting" me. It was ugly. When my mother got home from work that evening, I decided that I might as well wreck my life all at once. I would tell her that day. I didnt think it was fair to tell my dad and not my mom. Like half-baking a chicken. It just doesnt work. But my timing didnt work out, and I ended up having to go to piano lessons before I could get to her. But that was not a problem. I would just finish the dirty deed when I got home. Wrong! What I had not counted on was my dad getting to her while I was gone. And telling her god-only-knows what. When I arrived home, my mom was weeping inconsolably. Seeing this, I lost my nerve. But I knew that I really DID still have to go through with it, eventually. Several hours later, my mother and I were sitting on the porch making very uncomfortable conversation. Finally, I mustered all of the nerve that I had left and blurted out something to the effect of "Im sorry if I hurt you. Im not sorry about who I am." So we then had a major cry session together, mother and daughter. I assumed, thus, that things were going well with my mother. Wrong again! The next day, I realized that my mom wouldnt speak to me or make eye contact with me. In fact, she fled the room every time I came around. This was bad. But I knew that I had to give it time. Finally, four days later, she snapped out of the shocked daze she was in and our relationship returned to normal. My dad, on the other hand, is probably still in denial, because hes more or less acting like nothing ever happened. But at least hes being nice about it. In fact, our relationship is back to normal, too. And thats my big boo-hoo coming-out-to-my-parents story. The surprising thing is, it all just sort of worked out. And while Im still not sure that I would recommend this course of action to everyone who is still closeted to their parents, I do have a bit of advice for those who determine to follow suit. That is to allow timelots of timefor your parents to get used to the idea. Dont expect them to accept it immediately, or embrace the idea. At least not right away. As Steve Elkins (the Letters god) reminded me, it took years for me to accept my sexuality. Therefore, it is unreasonable and unfair to expect an instantly-positive reaction from parents. And I guess thats all I have to say. Ill see you around the Lambda courtyard. Im the one in the green shirt. Or maybe blue. Or white, with a logo. (That ought to cause utter havoc. I can just see it now. Adam is a senior in high school. In his free time, he enjoys studying and writing poetry, playing the piano, acting, and reading anything and everything. He welcomes email at admcrow@zdnetmail.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 9, No. 9, July 16, 1999 |