Today, I get to share with you a story that is dear to me. A story that Sam and his family wanted to share. A story they wanted to spill out to all parents and kids and those who feel alone. Sam is beyond precious to me, to our youth community, to our parish. He is a man who knows how to make others feel complete love and worth. And he is smart. Like scary crazy smart. He sat on my search committee as a sweet skinny tall 10th grade boy. He is now a senior in college and eloquent and funny and brave. The way his peers feel about him is how I hope every kid gets to feel.
These words are Sam's. This story is his. This truth is universal and real and needs to be heard.
What if…?
It’s a small enough question, isn’t it? It’s just two
simple words. Now add a few more.
What if my child is gay?
In the struggle to come to terms with my sexuality, the
biggest barrier to coming out was not the rest of the world, nor was it my
parents. The person I dreaded telling most was myself. After all, wasn’t I
supposed to end up with a woman? My whole life I had had a plan. I’ll go to
college. Maybe I’ll pursue a graduate degree. Then I’ll get a job.
Relationships would surely follow, ostensibly with women, and then a marriage,
kids, and a happy life. If everything was going according to plan, then why
wasn’t I happy?
When thoughts of being attracted to men first started
crossing my mind, I felt guilty. Every time I gave leash to the idea of
desiring a man, a deep shame shadowed my mind. Beat it down, Sam. Hide it. Bury
it inside you. Those are forbidden thoughts.
For a long time, I had tried to convince myself that
maybe I was just bisexual. Yeah, that seems alright in my conscience. Have your
little ‘ideas,’ but you’ll still end up with a woman. Freud would have had a
field day with that one. It took more time to stop trying to justify my own
mind and accept myself. But why did it take so long?
When going to tell my parents that I’m gay, I called my
parents into the room, asking if I could talk to them about something. They
thought I had scratched the car. When I told them I’m gay, they were
dumbfounded. It didn’t make any sense. Here’s our son, he’s perfectly normal.
Gay guys aren’t like our son. This is all wrong.
And so I return to the original question, what if my
child is gay? I am not a parent. I am not a sage crone, speaking from years of
life experience. I’m merely a 21 year old college student, out of the closet
for barely 6 months. But I know one thing, if that question had crossed my
parents’ minds for 30 seconds out of the 21 years of my life, then the 10
seconds of eternity following telling my parents I’m gay would have been filled
with love, not silence. Have you ever heard true silence? There is quiet, and
then there is silence. The latter is infinitely scarier than the first, for it
carries all the fear of walking into the dark. I sat there, not knowing what
they would say. I begged, implored my parents to say something. “Do you love
me,” I had to ask.
I’m one of the lucky ones. The weeks following my coming
out were filled with questions, doubts, and fears, but through it all a desire
to redo those first 10 seconds. And in fact, we’ve learned things about our
family and breaking down emotional barriers that never would have happened
without the discussions we had in those first weeks.
But what about all the other sons and daughters out
there? What about the kids whose parents sit there saying how disgusted they
are with the direction the country is headed? How do they even consider the
possibility of imagining a time when they are happily comfortable with
themselves, and know that their family stands behind them? How can they be
helped?
I am not saying that every parent in the world needs to
cater to the possibility of their child being gay by painting the house in
rainbows. But please, let the question “what if my child is gay?” cross your
mind for 30 seconds. Tell yourself that if that time comes, that you know your
initial reaction will be one of love. Hug your child. The world is full of
people who are quick to judge, eager to condemn others at the slightest excuse.
Perhaps your child is doing that to themselves, already. What would you do if
your child told you they had totaled the car? What if they were pregnant? How
scared do you think they would be of telling you, only then to find out that
their fears were justified? Now to whom do they turn?
My mother told me that her initial hesitation when I came
out to her was one of fear. She grew up in the ‘80s. She was my age during the
AIDS crisis. She knows that the world truly is a scary place. All she wants is
for me to be safe, and to protect me. How cruel it is, then, that her maternal
instincts came across as being distanced in those first few seconds. How could
I sit there, staring into the silence, and not cry out of sheer terror, curled into
a ball so tight I had hoped I could disappear. No, I was not kicked out of the
house. No, I was not disowned. No, I have never injured myself, or contemplated
suicide. I’ve been lucky.
If you are a parent, if you are a grandparent, an aunt,
uncle, sibling, cousin, or friend, hear my plea. Pause. Stop. Think. If
somebody you know comes out to you, rest assured that they are more terrified
than you could ever be. Comfort them. Your initial reaction will determine the
trajectory of the future of your relationship. You can aim for the dirt, or you
can aim for the sky. Do the hard work now and let your mind consider the
possibility of “what if?” Then all that need follow later is love.
In this, and in all things, I wish you every happiness,
Sam Winslow
