Mom, I'm Gay

Chapter 18

  I didn’t open the brochures Lily gave me for a while. Instead, I decided to go to the library to see if I could find some books for parents of gays, even though my Internet search from home had yielded nothing. Not really knowing where to start looking, since there was no “parenting gays” section in the database, I typed in homosexuality. I quickly learned the categories for this subject were either fiction or nonfiction. The nonfiction titles definitely didn’t sound attractive; some had to do with re-programming or reparative therapy and seemed to take the stance that being homosexual was against God. I was strong in my belief that God created us in his own image, and I took that to mean regardless of our race, gender, orientation, whatever, we were made in the image of God. I didn’t think for one moment that God didn’t love Jonathan or that Jonathan needed re-programming. I didn’t believe that same-sex unions were against God, or that they threatened heterosexual marriage. Those books definitely were not what I was looking for. Other nonfiction books actually discussed homosexuality as a mental illness, although they were older publications. There were also some titles that clearly offered support to those who wanted to live their lives openly as homosexuals without feeling it was wrong, and although I was happy to see that kind of support, it wasn’t what I was looking for. After finding nothing in the nonfiction titles that I thought would help my quest to be a better parent to Jonathan, I began to search for novels that might help me understand how it was for other parents with gay or lesbian children. That was what I wanted to read.

  That first trip to the library, I came home with two books. I actually hid them from Jonathan’s view because I didn’t want him to see what I was trying to do. How funny, as I look back, that I put myself “in the closet” as I sought to understand my son! The titles wouldn’t necessarily have given Jonathan a clue about what I was reading, but I hid them anyway. I also didn’t tell Patrick about my library quest.

  I realize, in hindsight, that I would have gotten far more answers from Lily’s literature and support group than I did from the books I read that summer. After the fourteenth novel, I realized none of them were written from a parental point of view. I learned a great deal about the lengths many young men and women took to hide their sexual orientation, which made me sad. It helped me, though, understand why Jonathan hadn’t had that conversation with me sooner. Over and over, I read stories about sons and daughters whose parents denied their sexuality or disowned their children for, in my opinion, was living out their lives as God had created them. It broke my heart to read these stories. I read several novels about closeted professional athletes as well as other professionals, and I developed a better understanding of their torment. I learned, without wanting to, about first sexual encounters and sometimes the brutal repercussions when they were discovered. That made me wonder about Marshall’s uncle. He told me he would tell me that story someday, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it. E. Lynn Harris was, in my opinion, the best writer. I became rather addicted to the genre, if it could be called that, but not once did I learn how other parents had learned to be better parents. If anything, I learned the most about negative actions by parents that had happened to the characters in these books because of their sexual orientation. As I read, I wondered if the books were simply fiction or if the authors had first or second hand knowledge. I thought it was the latter, because writers, the best ones, write about things they know about, through their own experiences or from research. Although my compassion grew, the main thing I gained from reading these books was a collection of things parents should and should not do. I felt comforted that I hadn’t reacted negatively to Jonathan’s coming out to me, and hoped he knew I was supportive, even though we had yet to have much in the way of conversations that made that as clear as I would have liked.

  My book quest didn’t provide me with any direct help as a parent, but it did provide me with more than a little understanding of society’s judgment and lack of acceptance. It made me more determined to improve my skills as the parent of a young gay man. I continued to read many books that carried a sort of “gay” theme, but I realized the answer to how to communicate better with Jonathan was not going to be found in a book.

  I was lucky I had the support of Patrick in my life, and I finally decided to call my sister. It was not easy finding a quiet time with Andrea at the house, so I finally went for a walk and called her from my cell phone.

  “Pam?” I knew she had answered the phone but I made sure.

  “Hi, Mara! You don’t usually call from your cell. What’s up?”

  The truth was, I didn’t call very often at all. But for some reason, I wanted to tell my sister about my son. It was not a very satisfying conversation.

  “Pam, Jonathan’s just told me he was gay.”

  Her response really irritated me. “You were surprised by this?”

  “Well, no, not really.” That was true.

  “Then what’s the big deal, Mara?”

  “It’s not a big deal, but I just wanted to tell you.”

  “You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know.”

  And that was it. The rest of the conversation was about his graduation, and my niece’s latest accident while playing soccer. When we hung up, we made plans to get together soon, something we did every time we spoke on the phone, but something that never seemed to happen very often. Her reaction had been such a non-reaction! My mood began to lighten as I walked back home, thinking about how nice it would be if the rest of the world simply didn’t care, either.