The Answer to the Question I am Asked Too Often!
There is one question that seems to plague my life. “What is it like to have a Gay Son?” You would think that by now I would be used to being asked this question. My son has been ‘out of the closet’ for 8 years now, but still this interrogation stings a little each time I am asked.
And not for the reason that many would assume.
My first reaction is to scream – ‘Well I guess it’s like having any other kind of son!’
Ok, I guess I could leave it there. That’s the answer in a nutshell. Only it’s not, is it? Because the probing just continues.
I think I find it particularly frustrating because it’s not even a talking point for my family now, but I understand people’s curiosity. Most ask because either they have a child who has just come out and feel the need to connect somehow, or perhaps have an inkling their child may be homosexual. So for them, I have chosen to put aside my niggle surrounding question itself to tell them my own story. In the hope that people out there will gain some knowledge of what it is ‘really’ like.
I always knew. My son liked dolls and Barbies instead of transformers and toy guns. He had a fascination with mermaids and he was so fussy about clothes it made my brain hurt.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? I can look back at old family photos and see that there were certain mannerisms I should have spotted. But then, why would I? It was never in my mind to ‘look’ for them.
When he was eleven, my beautiful boy asked me to take him to a Madonna concert. His confidence was palpable and we were surrounded by a wonderfully open and fearlessly gay crowd. He fitted right in. I should have known then.
For many gay men, ‘coming out’ is somewhat of a big deal. I understand that now of course. However, it seems my own son’s ‘coming out’ speech was somewhat of an anti-climax for him. When he told me, just after starting secondary school, my response was a very matter of fact “Okay”. It was such a non-event in my eyes. Not a big deal. I realise now that it was a much bigger deal for him
When my older daughters found out that their brother was gay, it was an ‘event’ for maybe 24 hours. They told everyone they met their ‘news’ and then forgot about it. It was almost a celebration. I loved their reaction.
It wasn’t until a year after his announcement that I would be dealt the biggest ‘shock’ moment. This was when he chose to tell me he was bisexual.
Now, I am not a prude and can openly admit that I may have experimented in my time but this was a surprise. I was a teacher at the time, so was used to hearing about the latest trends and movements, but bisexuality was not a word that got bandied around often.
To make matters worse, just like some bad movie moment, I happened to have been drinking a mug of tea at the time, which of course I splurted out all over him. He had liquid dripping from his face and I attempted to wipe it away with my sleeve. Such a motherly thing to do, but not quite the reaction he was expecting I am sure.
To be honest, I was not angry or confused, I was just a bit taken aback. The ‘gay’ thing seemed to make sense to me, but I had never considered bisexuality an option. My response of “Okay” left my lips with a slightly higher pitch this time round.
Over the years he has had a few girlfriends, although nothing serious. Then one day he brought a boyfriend home. I don’t feel I have much right to go into detail here, his stories are his own and I respect his right to tell them when he is ready. However, as a mother, I was incredibly sad when his first serious relationship was continuously put under pressure by his partner’s religious parents. They, of course, did not approve.
I did my best as a mother to help the situation, even calling the boy’s parents as a way to introduce myself and let her see that we were accepting of her son. It didn’t help of course.
The idea that I am so much more relaxed about these relations was compounded when I had a friend call to tell me that her son had come out as gay. Instantly, I was happy and did a massive “whoop.” In my mind, I had something else in common with her now. That’s a good thing, right? The more I talked about us going to PRIDE together, the more the silence on the other end of the phone seemed deafening.
She was not happy about it. According to her, It was okay for my son to be gay as we were different but she was worried…
I stopped fully listening after that because I was getting angry. I wasn’t different to any other mum, I just had a son who liked boys instead of girls. And sometimes he liked both.
SO WHAT?!
I was heartbroken the day my son came home covered in blood. Why would anyone feel the need to do that? He was beaten up for looking feminine. (It seems his penchant for hair extensions was not something many others agreed with.)
I am a writer at heart, so for me, the way I deal with the extreme emotions is to write them all down. What developed would form the basis of my second novel. I wanted to help in my own small way by telling stories of individuals overcoming adversity.
We are all just the same underneath the surface and that’s how I see the world.
It’s how we should all see the world. NO matter how naïve it may be to think so.
A mother’s love should be limitless and unconditional.
At the end of the day, all you have to do is love them. Even if you are surprised or shocked about who they fancy, they are still the same person that you carried for 9 months.
We love having a rainbow child in our family. I look forward to the day he finally invites me to PRIDE with him. Because it’s the main emotion I feel for him. Proud that he stood up for himself no matter the consequences. I’ll be waving my flag just as high as everybody else.
So what is it like to have a gay son?
That’s simple. Like having a Son.
(Note from The Editor: Many thanks to Cecily Baker – Loud, Proud, Feisty mum of four who says it as it is. Read more about Cecily and how you can stay up to date with her antics here on her author page or visit her website:www.cecilybaker.co.uk)
