I was born into what seemed a relatively ‘normal’ family. My parents, much like many others were married at my birth and although young, they would provide everything that they could for me, and I grew up like kids should. I was in a loving household surrounded by my parents and my grandparents who fulfilled every desire that I could have. I was growing up with more happy memories than bad ones and could not imagine a better place.
I have fond memories of my mother fetching me from day-care and our little milkshake dates with my grandma, or my dad coming home from work with giant hugs or cuddles we would share as a family watching movies in bed. It was the perfect picture of a white-picketed fenced suburban home, everyone’s dream of a family. Sure, my parents would bicker, but about the usual stupid things; my dad’s socks on the floor or who gets to chose what we were going to watch or who was going to cook dinner that night, it was nothing. Everyone commended my parents for their efforts and time spent with me.
Until, my parents were getting a divorce, a very sudden and unexpected divorce. My dad finally came out as gay, he was not happy in their marriage, of course he loved my mother, and we all knew that. Life stayed exactly the same and everything changed all at the same time. My family was still the same, I had the same loving parents who would do anything and everything for me, I still had the milkshakes, and the hugs, and the cuddles. Life didn’t get harder because my dad was gay, life got harder as people began to find out that my dad was gay.
All of a sudden, the same dad that was the perfect father in everyone’s eyes, changed overnight. Adults began asking me questions that even as a child, I understood them as insulting, they were either questions about how my father treated me or questions treating my family as some science experiment. People could not understand that my father was the same father. Eventually, I got tired of the questions and the looks, I got tired of explaining and defending, I got tired of telling people my father was gay.
For the next 10 years, I wouldn’t say anything, I would let the topic be assumed. I wouldn’t invite people over to my house or speak about all the people that raised me. I watched my younger brother do the same. He didn’t say a word about the other half of our family.
In fact , my brother hid as far away from the truth as possible and felt the need to move to multiple different schools, after being tormented for having a gay father. The phrases that people would throw at my brother were horrific and if it wasn’t the children, the parents were gossiping.
During the 6 different schools that we went to, the same torments, questions and gossiping followed, we knew no-one in the same situation, at least no-one that was open about it. And how could you blame anyone for keeping quiet?
We were shown by everyone around us that having a gay dad wasn’t the problem, it was the view society had on our gay dad that was the problem. We could understand as children, why he stayed in the closet for so long, because anyone would be apprehensive to come out, with the reactions we received.
Years later, we were thankfully able to find and establish communities around us that we are comfortable sharing who we are and where we come from, and that has made the world of a difference. Of course, finding a community is always encouraged, but more than that, I encourage people to create a community, not only people who identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community but everyone.
As children, we did not deserve the backlash or the insinuation that our father was problematic because he was gay, we as children needed love, support and reassurance. I encourage everyone, to please think before you talk, think about the question you are asking, be kind, be loving and be accepting. You don’t know what affect you could have on a person’s life.
Comentarios