I came out when I was seventeen, mostly to all my friends, but coming out to my friends was rather easier than coming out to my parents. I moved out when I was eighteen to go to college, not because my home life was terrible, but because I wanted to experience what living on campus would be like.
I would always plan on telling my parents that I was gay, but something would always come up; either their birthdays, or it was the holidays, or I was moving back home for summer break and then I couldn’t tell my mom since I would be living under her roof for three months and if I told her I would most likely be under house arrest; I kept making excuse after excuse not to tell them. I figured they knew, I mean, I was always flashy in the way I dressed, I was a theatre major in college who by the age of fifteen knew all the lyrics to the musicals Rent and Miss Saigon and I would watch Sex and the City every Sunday night with my mom drinking a cocktail; they must know.
It wasn’t until my uncle’s wedding when things came crashing to a halt. I was twenty-two at the time, and my parents had been divorced for about eight years now. We were at the reception and my dad was extremely intoxicated. The three of us had been talking for about a few minutes, when we were told to take our seats since the ceremony was about to start, somehow I don’t know why my dad brought this question up, but he asked, “I’m never going to have grandkids, huh?”
Time froze. My heart raced. I was in shock; I thought to myself, “Is he really asking me this at my uncle’s wedding? Why would he ask this now?” I took a deep breath, looked at my mom who was standing to my left, then at my dad who was on my right, then to the door that had been opened in front of me to walk through and thought to myself, “this is it, once you say it, there’s no turning back” and I walked through the door.
I looked at my dad and said, “Yes…you’re right, you’re never going to have grandkids because I’m gay.”
Once the word rolled out of my tongue all these emotions came rushing in at once, I was mortified, I was scared, I was relived, and I was shaking. I looked at my mom and she said, “I knew, thank you for telling me. I love you.” I cried. I couldn’t control the tears anymore. I was set free. I hugged her and said, “I love you too.”
My dad had another reaction, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you think you could talk to me about this?”
“…because you’ve never been there for me and I didn’t think you’d care to know.” By the end of the day, most of the guest at the wedding including my family knew that I was gay since my dad keep bringing up like a broken record.
Looking back on that time, I guess, I didn’t want to come out to my parents because I thought it would change the relationship that we had built, especially with my mom since she was my best friend. As an only child I was afraid that somehow she’d love me less since I would never give her what I thought she wanted. After coming out, my mom has been extremely supportive; twice she’s attended the pride parade in Palms Springs, California and sends me pictures of her marching with her colleagues.
My dad and I don’t really talk about what occurred that day at my uncle’s wedding, I think he’s still trying to wrap his head around that his only child is gay, but we are working on our relationship, one phone call at a time. All of my immediate family now knows and they’re extremely supportive, kind and generous. When my cousins come to New York City, I take them to gay bars, showing them my world. I’m really blessed and thankful to be who I am—I wouldn’t change it for anything.
What I’ve learned through all of this is that you just have to be you. The best version of yourself. That’s all you can do. No matter what.
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