I had felt a similar knot several decades earlier when sitting in a café with my mother. We were sharing a huge dessert comprising of twelve scoops of ice-cream, melted chocolate and a heap of cream. She was aware I had something important to tell her and I knew I would be stalling hence the big order. Half an hour later I’d come out to her. She told me she loved me and would support me, and we ordered coffee to warm up our frozen teeth. I’m still surprised to this day that we didn’t lapse into a diabetic coma before the end of the conversation.
Opening up to my father was a lot harder. I couldn’t pin
point the reasons why. The anticipation was definitely worse than the outcome.
Perhaps it had to do with natural instinct, masculinity issues, fear of
rejection or fear of disappointing him. I may also have been worried about
lineage and how he’d react to not having the family name passed on. Generally,
heterosexual men are more inclined to accept the idea of same-sex partners if
the couple is female. For some reason, gay men are perceived as more of a
threat to them.
For a young man or woman to come out to their family takes a lot of courage. Sadly, many of these gay adolescents end up rejected and living on the streets. One recent study reveals that more than thirty per cent of young homeless people in Australia are same sex attracted. According to another study, gay and lesbian youth are two to three times more likely to commit suicide than their straight counterparts. As difficult as it may be for parents of gay children to adapt to their child’s sexuality, it is that much harder for a child to come to terms with his or her own sexuality and then talk about it.
Luckily, I never experienced anything but love and acceptance from my father. He and my mother not only adapted to the situation seamlessly, but they also welcomed MBH (my better-half) into the family when we announced our engagement and subsequent wedding. The greatest gift my parents could ever give me was to fly half-way round the world to attend our commitment ceremony. One of the many highlights of the reception occurred when my father took to the lectern. Having ditched his notes in favour of an improvised speech, he spoke from the heart.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I wanted to do this right, so I looked up Australian toast. All I found was a piece of burnt bread covered in Vegemite, so I’m afraid you’ll have to have an old-fashioned European toast. By now, you’ve heard that my wife and I live in Switzerland and we spend a lot of time in the mountains trekking. Every time we take on a new path, we always ask ourselves, ‘Is it going to be steep. Is it going to be rough?’ It’s always hard going, but ultimately you get to that place where it’s level.”
“The weather is marvellous. You’re looking down the valley at cars the size of bugs, trains the size of caterpillars and all your problems seem quite small in comparison.” Pointing towards MBH and myself, he added, “I think these guys have gone through the steep part. They’ve spent half a lifetime looking for each other. Perhaps now that they’ve found each other, they’re on the flat part. The wind’s behind them. The sun’s in their face. They can relax and enjoy their journey…” As my father lifted his glass to toast us, several of our gay friends took to tissues, wiping away their tears.
“I wish my father would talk about me and my boyfriend that way,” commented one of them at the end of the speech. “You guys are so lucky.”
“Yes,” I thought to myself, “we truly are.”
For a young man or woman to come out to their family takes a lot of courage. Sadly, many of these gay adolescents end up rejected and living on the streets. One recent study reveals that more than thirty per cent of young homeless people in Australia are same sex attracted. According to another study, gay and lesbian youth are two to three times more likely to commit suicide than their straight counterparts. As difficult as it may be for parents of gay children to adapt to their child’s sexuality, it is that much harder for a child to come to terms with his or her own sexuality and then talk about it.
Luckily, I never experienced anything but love and acceptance from my father. He and my mother not only adapted to the situation seamlessly, but they also welcomed MBH (my better-half) into the family when we announced our engagement and subsequent wedding. The greatest gift my parents could ever give me was to fly half-way round the world to attend our commitment ceremony. One of the many highlights of the reception occurred when my father took to the lectern. Having ditched his notes in favour of an improvised speech, he spoke from the heart.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I wanted to do this right, so I looked up Australian toast. All I found was a piece of burnt bread covered in Vegemite, so I’m afraid you’ll have to have an old-fashioned European toast. By now, you’ve heard that my wife and I live in Switzerland and we spend a lot of time in the mountains trekking. Every time we take on a new path, we always ask ourselves, ‘Is it going to be steep. Is it going to be rough?’ It’s always hard going, but ultimately you get to that place where it’s level.”
“The weather is marvellous. You’re looking down the valley at cars the size of bugs, trains the size of caterpillars and all your problems seem quite small in comparison.” Pointing towards MBH and myself, he added, “I think these guys have gone through the steep part. They’ve spent half a lifetime looking for each other. Perhaps now that they’ve found each other, they’re on the flat part. The wind’s behind them. The sun’s in their face. They can relax and enjoy their journey…” As my father lifted his glass to toast us, several of our gay friends took to tissues, wiping away their tears.
“I wish my father would talk about me and my boyfriend that way,” commented one of them at the end of the speech. “You guys are so lucky.”
“Yes,” I thought to myself, “we truly are.”
