My entire life I have dealt with being different. Being half black and being totally gay all in the same body is naturally grounds for torment and ridicule. But as my mother would later tell me, “it takes a very strong person to be gay.”
My mother and I have always had a pretty close relationship. I always knew that I could tell her anything and not fear what she would say. But when I accepted myself for who I was, I still feared the worst. All of my friends knew; my kid sister knew; all that was left was to tell my mother.
In my heart I was certain that she already knew. Mothers always do. But uttering the words, “I’m gay,” was harder than I could imagine. I remember trying to drop hints to her, and in turn she also had hints of her own. The most poignant one to me was exactly one week before I announced my “gayocity” to my mother. We were watching Lifetime and the movie was about a seaman who tells his mother several times that he’s gay, but she never believes him. He goes to the Navy, meets a guy, falls in love and records everything they do into journal. Eventually he is found out, but his lover is not. The lover then has to watch as they beat him and throw him overboard for being a “fag.” The Navy tells the mother it was freak accident and gives his personal belongings to her. As she reads the journal she discovers that her only son was gay and sets out to prove that he was murdered. In the end she succeeds.
In my heart I was certain that she already knew. Mothers always do. But uttering the words, “I’m gay,” was harder than I could imagine. I remember trying to drop hints to her, and in turn she also had hints of her own. The most poignant one to me was exactly one week before I announced my “gayocity” to my mother. We were watching Lifetime and the movie was about a seaman who tells his mother several times that he’s gay, but she never believes him. He goes to the Navy, meets a guy, falls in love and records everything they do into journal. Eventually he is found out, but his lover is not. The lover then has to watch as they beat him and throw him overboard for being a “fag.” The Navy tells the mother it was freak accident and gives his personal belongings to her. As she reads the journal she discovers that her only son was gay and sets out to prove that he was murdered. In the end she succeeds.
After the movie, my mother said, “That would be a horrible way to find out. I would want to know before he died so that I could love and accept him for who he really is.” And in that moment I knew I could tell her.
A week later, I was wrapping up my last play as a high school actor. I was in mid costume change when it hit me. I had to tell her that night. She had to know before I left for college and the sooner I told her, the better. The show I was in was called “Passing Through.” It was about a forty year old woman who falls in love with an eighteen year old soldier. After working the show for four months, the connection between the show and my life was never made – Until closing night that is. The young man had a line that became my personal mantra.
A week later, I was wrapping up my last play as a high school actor. I was in mid costume change when it hit me. I had to tell her that night. She had to know before I left for college and the sooner I told her, the better. The show I was in was called “Passing Through.” It was about a forty year old woman who falls in love with an eighteen year old soldier. After working the show for four months, the connection between the show and my life was never made – Until closing night that is. The young man had a line that became my personal mantra.
He tells the woman, “The trouble with being scared is you miss half of living.” After he tells her this, she abandons all of her fears about their relationship and decides to tell her friends and family. Now it was my turn to cast off my own fear.
When I walked back into the house my mother was in the living room watching the television, while attempting, unsuccessfully, to paint her toenails a hideous shade of orange. I told her that I had something I needed to tell her but wasn’t sure how to. I asked her if she knew what I was about to say and she said that she didn’t. But she smiled as if to say that she did. So I went straight in for it.
When I walked back into the house my mother was in the living room watching the television, while attempting, unsuccessfully, to paint her toenails a hideous shade of orange. I told her that I had something I needed to tell her but wasn’t sure how to. I asked her if she knew what I was about to say and she said that she didn’t. But she smiled as if to say that she did. So I went straight in for it.
I asked her if she remembered the Lifetime movie we watched about the seaman and what happened to him. And of course she did. Then I asked her if she remembered what she said about finding out while the person was alive. She said that she did, but clearly she was going to make me say it. She sat there with a smile and one eyebrow raised. Waiting.
So I said it flat out, “Mom…I’m alive and I like boys.” I couldn’t bring myself to actually use the word “gay,” but I was sure she understood.
She replied, “Great, now paint my toes and tell him his name.” I told her about my then boyfriend, Garrett, and how we met, and that she had actually already met him, but didn’t know it. My mother is now my best friend and my biggest supporter. She has been with me as I dealt with discrimination, racism, homophobia, two cases of attempted murder and other hate crimes. Never once has she said told me that she was ashamed of me. In fact she has done the opposite – she has always affirmed and believed in me. Not a single day goes by that she doesn’t tell me how proud she is of me for being who I am, and there is not a single day that I am not thankful for that fact.
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