Before I came out, my mother, bless her soul, was a hardened homophobe. Back in the 70s she gave large contributions to Anita Bryant’s campaign in Miami and other anti-gay causes. I vividly recall dinner at a Christmas family gathering when she pounded her fist on the table. “Gays!! They actually think they have rights!” she protested loudly. She was at the other table so I don’t know what gave rise to this impassioned protest.

I wasn’t ready yet to come out, but also couldn’t stay silent. I stood up, announced “They most certainly do!” and walked out of the room leaving my meal uneaten. I didn’t return.

Fast forward a few years and I eventually came out. And Mom changed. Knowing someone gay — moreover knowing her child was gay — enabled her to break through the ignorance and the bigotry she held in her heart. She struggled to get there, but told me later that finally one morning she woke up to a revelation. “He’s still my son.” And with that her homophobia evaporated.

The closet is a terrible thing. It keeps those hiding in pain, and it deprives loved ones from truly knowing and embracing their son, daughter, other relative or friend.

I’m stirred to share this story by the article linked below from the Washington Post. It ran ten days ago. I hope most of you won’t hit a paywall that prevents you from reading:

Carolyn Hax: Their anti-gay comments hurt a relative they don’t know is gay
Washington Post

Title image is by Dustin Humes on Unsplash.