By Janice Will
I thought I was open-minded, not realizing my acceptance was restricted to an end product still resembling the All-American family. My metamorphosis began when first confronted with the fact that my middle son is gay. Well, it wasn't exactly when I was first confronted. He'd been trying to tell me for years! He could see that I couldn't handle the truth. So he kept his secret … for a while.
Inevitably, the time came when he was no longer amenable to this arrangement. He left an anthology of gay literature out just for me. I wish I could say I glided into my age of enlightenment with grace and charm. Instead I was grief-stricken. Who was this impersonating my handsome son who I pictured making a wonderful husband and father? He just hadn't met the right girl. He can't know for sure. He assured me that he had always known, even as a little boy.
Over the next few years I was more open to learning, but I couldn't shake the fear that he'd never be happy, always alone, destined for sickness. I did an about-face when he revealed that he and his brothers were worried about me. I was in a difficult second marriage headed for disaster, with an empty nest just around the corner. They couldn't shake the fear that I'd never be happy. I'd end up alone. If I didn't get my weight under control, I was destined for sickness.
Was I brave enough to challenge my preconceived ideas based on ignorance and fear? Did I want to adopt the military's 'Don't ask. Don't tell' policy promoting deception and shame in the land of the free and home of the brave? Was the unconditional love I professed to believe hypocritical? When my sons were young I tried to instill empathy, helping them to see the effect of their words or actions. The tipping point for me was when I stumbled on a long-forgotten paper tucked away in an over-sized book. "Write 50 words on how it made your brother feel to be called a stupid imbecile who'd never learn to tie his own shoes without help!"
I studied the childish writing. "It makes him feel like hitting me, punching me, kicking me, throwing a rock at me, beating me up." Next, a note from me: Tell me how it makes him feel inside. And then: "It makes him feel sad, mad, disappointed, angry, enbarased (his spelling, not mine!) … it makes them feel real small …crippled in the heart …" As I reread his light-bulb moment, I had one of my own. He could be describing the results of my close-mindedness.
Could I walk my talk? How would I ever make this paradigm shift? With my heart and soul. My re-education began with Betty DeGeneres, mother of gay comedienne, Ellen. My son handed me her book with an inviting look. My next leap of faith: "Queer as Folk," the ground-breaking Showtime television series about a group of twenty-something gay friends in working class Pittsburgh. Sharon Gless, who I loved in Cagney & Lacey years ago, plays a mother fiercely proud of her gay son. His friends are treated like family. I had found my new role model.
Did someone say family? The very fabric of our family has changed from black and white to colors of the rainbow. This summer I experienced the jitters preparing for a date to meet the boyfriend's mom. I've been inching my way out of the closet to a much sweeter secret-free life as the mother of a gay son. Let me rephrase: I'm the mother of three incredible sons, one who happens to have a boyfriend.
