I came out to my parents

I finally did it. I came out to my parents. It actually happened about three weeks ago, but I haven’t had a chance to update this blog until now.

I emailed them on a Saturday afternoon, simply saying there was something I wanted to discuss with them. They called me the next day to invite me over that evening. I was ridiculously nervous. I immediately contacted a few people and posted on Facebook. I had an overwhelming amount of support. Despite all that, I actually felt sick to my stomach as I drove to their house.

When I got there, I had to wait for my mom’s typical routine of going to the bathroom, making herself a cup of tea, and putting on chapstick before they finally settled down. When they did, my mom’s very first question was "Who is he?" because she guessed I was there to tell them I was seeing someone. Apparently they’d been trying to guess what I wanted to talk to them about before I got there.

After an awkward chuckle, I went into my speal about how I had been censoring many of the things I'd been telling them about my life and didn't want to do that anymore as I valued the openness I'd always had with them. And then I simply stated that the reason for this was that I was gay.

They didn't react much at all initially. They just kind of sat there looking at me. So I kept talking. I explained a bit of my journey, how this realization made so many things in my life make more sense, how much more comfortable I was feeling with myself, etc. And then they still didn't really react so I stopped and asked if they had anything to say.

My dad said he had guessed because the Holy Spirit told him (I have since found out that he might have seen some pictures of me in a tie on Facebook which clued him in). My mom had been clueless. Even when my dad suggested it prior to my coming over, to prepare her for the possibility, she thought it was ridiculous. My dad did most of the talking, in Pastor mode, assuring me that they would still love me and would still be a part of my life. He compared it to when my brother moved in with his girlfriend before they were married. My parents didn't approve of that but still interacted with both of them and maintained relationship.

My dad was pleased to find out that I hadn’t waited to tell them until I was so involved with someone that I absolutely had to. He felt it indicated a level of trust and was appreciative of that. He also agreed to read a book I lent him on 'Jesus, the Bible and Homosexuality' (He returned it a week ago without comment and my mom later indicated that he’d only skimmed it as he felt he had read most of the material before...sigh). His one somewhat disconcerting comment was that he didn’t want us to talk about this all the time. He wanted me to still just be me. I understand his point, but combine that with the fact that he hasn’t brought it up at all since, and it feels a little funny.

My mom asked me if my being gay was a secret and I explained that it wasn't for me but that I hadn't told anyone in their church community out of respect for them. They were very strong in their statement that if anyone had issues with them as Pastors who have a gay daughter, that was those people's problem. They’ve been burned by church folks before who judged Pastors and their families with different standards and weren’t going to fall into that trap again. That was kind of nice to hear and was probably the highlight for me. My mom actually went out with a friend a few days later and told her and that friend was supportive. I was really glad to hear that.

My mom was calm through most of it but did cry a bit at the end about how her dream bubble with me eventually marrying a tall handsome man had popped. She did ask me a bit about who I'd dated and the difference between the terms gay and lesbian...that kind of thing. My initial impression was that she would deal with it better than my dad. She has talked to me a bit since, asking a few more questions especially about dating, but she’s very awkward about it. And in our last conversation, she specifically brought up the fact that this is an area where we’ll have to agree to disagree – that they’ll never be comfortable with it. That’s a pretty strong statement for my mom to make as she doesn’t usually take as much of an opinionated stance on things as my dad. It hurt a bit to hear. They’ve also apparently bought several books on how to love your gay kid. Apparently these books are helping them think through questions like whether or not they’ll be comfortable with me showing affection to a girlfriend in their home. These books are, without a doubt, Christian authored, so I have no idea what they will walk away with from them.

I know it will take time for them to process the news and that we have many awkward moments to come. But, in general, I was pretty pleased with how things went. I had anticipated a bit more emotion – crying or anger. I’m sure there has been some when I haven’t been around, but they’ve been fairly calm and collected when actually interacting with me. I had anticipated having to sit through some arguments about why homosexuality is wrong and perhaps being asked to justify my ‘choice’, but there hasn’t been any of that. My dad did send me an out of the blue email saying he was praying for me and for God’s blessing on my life. He hasn’t done this in a very long time so its timing is suspect. That and ‘blessing’ is a kind of euphemism for God’s best for you, which is clearly not being gay. So it was a bit disturbing. But I know he loves me.

There is a certain amount of freedom now that I’m out. I don’t have to be as careful. I don’t have to clear away anything remotely related to this part of who I am whenever they come over. My sister-in-law and I don’t have to coordinate stories about certain events I go to. I don’t have to keep track of what I have and haven’t told them about various people in my life. But there’s still a level of artificiality. For example, they aren’t necessarily ready to hear that I’ve kissed a girl so my descriptions of my dates have been edited. I spent an evening playing pool with my dad last week and we spent the night talking about TV shows. It was kind of sad (and interesting to think about why media is so important in people’s lives and how that relates to dysfunctional families). But it’s still progress. And I’m very happy I did it.

Bathroom Dilemmas

So, it’s happened. I have joined the ranks of those who have a ‘you’re in the wrong bathroom’ story to share. I experienced a few such incidents as a teenager, but then I feminized myself and the problem went away. But now it’s back.

I had kind of mentally prepared myself for it happening. I’d read about the anxiety some more butch appearing folks experience when using a public washroom and intellectually realized that would probably happen to me as I took on a more masculine appearance. But the reality of it doesn’t actually hit you until it is happening.

The first incident was just over a week ago. I was heading down the stairs at a McDonald’s. A gentleman was following me. At the bottom, we split off, him towards the men’s washroom and me towards the women’s. He piped up, saying “Umm…wrong room.” This was immediately reiterated by a woman who was just exiting the ladies room. I assured them I was heading into the right place but I’m not sure they were convinced.

Then, just a couple days ago, I wash washing my hands in another public restroom when a woman entered. She immediately froze in her tracks upon seeing me, looking puzzled and asked “Am I in the right place?” After a brief moment she corrected herself and apologized.

I had somehow thought that even if this happened to me, I wouldn’t let it bother me. But that was a naïve assumption. I’ve actually found myself feeling anxious when entering a public restroom, hoping no one else is there. Even tonight, I could hear someone in the next stall finishing up and I rushed washing my hands so I could exit the room before they came out and saw me.

I don’t think there’s an easy solution. I sympathize with those who are disconcerted by my presence. Honestly, I would be too if I saw another person as masculine looking as myself in the washroom. I think I’m aware of the issue enough that I’d more quickly correct myself and I certainly wouldn’t say anything, but I’m culturally conditioned enough that I think there would be an initial startled reaction.

What puzzles me is why we care so much that someone of a different gender is in ‘our’ bathroom? In women’s washrooms, everybody goes into a separate stall to do their business so even if a guy walked in, they wouldn’t see anything anyways. Why should a woman care if a man sees her washing her hands? I suppose it might be different if a woman walked into a guy’s washroom where there are urinals, but I haven’t experienced that (I understand it can be an even bigger issue for transgender folks who aren’t sure which restroom to use). The way I figure it, if you see someone in a public restroom that you think doesn’t belong, the likelihood that they are deliberately being perverted is very small and if they’ve accidentally chosen the wrong room, pointing it out will only embarrass them. So why not just give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they are in the right place. I guess I vote for unisex washrooms with stalls for everybody. Besides, wouldn’t mixing the long women’s lines and short men’s lines together make everything more efficient?

I feel spiffy wearing a tie

So I wore a tie tonight. Yup. I wanted to show respect by dressing up for the event I was attending, and right now, for me, dressing up means a tie. I’ve worn a tie before but only at home or at my brother’s house – not out in public. So this was kind of a big deal.

I took a shower. Spiked my freshly cut hair. Put on my Value Village starched collar white shirt. And tied my tie…and well, undid it and tied it again…and, umm, undid it and tied it again. It’s darn tricky to get those things just the right length.

But I succeeded. Took a look at myself in the mirror and felt pretty darn spiffy.

I’ve had a slew of people tell me, even just this week, that I seem much more comfortable with myself lately. Even my hairstylist says my demeanor has changed dramatically since she first met me and chopped off my long hair a little over four months ago. I think I’ve mentioned before that I sometimes fear people will think I’m caving to some sort of lesbian stereotype by styling my hair and dressing as I do, but comments about how well this look suits me help allay those fears. This is me…finally unburied. And for the first time in my life, I quite like me. As I said…I feel spiffy.