My son received a text message form a friend who is bisexual, "I said 'hey' to someone and they told me 'F*** you fag.' Being friendly=gay."
I asked my son if he ever gets treated like this and he laughed and said no. But, then back stepped a bit and said, "Well, you hear people say stuff, but I just blow it off." He reassured me most people don't give him any problems; I think his thick skin filters most of the ugliness out, but he wasn't born with that armor. When he was younger, I always reassured him there was nothing he could ever say or do that would change my love for him and he would always have my support. This was my way of saying, "When you're ready to tell me you're gay, I promise to still love and support you." He was only 5, so a little finesse was required. He finally came out when he was in 8th grade and even after years of preparation, it knocked the wind out of me. When asked today, my son will tell you I made a BIG DEAL out of it and in retrospect I guess I did. I had bottled up years of saved speeches, so when he finally told me I slowly and methodically began to suffocate him with each of those speeches. Unconditional love speech. Personal safety speech. Identity speech. Safe sex speech. I wish I would have hugged him and let the moment sustain in love and security. The (s)mothering speeches should have waited. I reacted with the force of an emergency response team, when really it was just my kid coming to me with something that took a lot of courage to discuss. Damn it, I wish I could do that moment over again.
In the years leading to his coming out, my son dealt with frequent ridicule from peers. His name was Gay, Faggot and Homo, as if this was the main identifying trait of his existence and his love for baking, music, art and computers bared no relevance. After he finally did make the big announcement, "Yes, I'm gay!" he felt relief. His peers quit with the names and he had more girlfriends than Tiger Woods. His friend base changes often, since my husband's job requires us to move frequently and every few years he has to reintroduce himself as, 'the gay kid'. Even this doesn't seem to bother him; the years of trying to hide, conform and figure out 'why in the hell am I so different' were more difficult.
Attempting to fit the social mold of perfection sucks and will eventually break a child. I bought him GI Joe action figures and forced him to play soccer and basketball, none of which he enjoyed. After he told me sports weren't his thing, I stopped pushing my desire for all star child bragging rights. My child's life cannot represent my identity, it must be his own. So, if he would rather bake, play on the computer and listen to music, so be it! He doesn't have to be a jock to be healthy and if he's not emotionally strong, ambition becomes lost. My all star child bragging rights can remain intact, because he's comfortable in his own skin and feels no need to fit the obnoxious mold of social perfection. Perfection does not exist. Control, also does not exist. Chasing the two is a waste of energy and time (I'm only just learning this). This race has been a relay, he now runs with the baton and it's his turn to round the corner and finish. We are a team hoping to land a place in health and happiness and have our sights on the greatest prize: equality. The fabulous irony is all parents want these very basic things for their children, whether they be gay or straight. Sexuality should never play a role in these inherent rights. Happiness. Health. Equality. Being friendly=being humane.
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