by LEO E. LAURENCE
Originally
published in the December 1968 issue of the pioneering San Francisco Gay
magazine Vector.
“MOM’S COMING TO
VISIT … OH, MY GOD, NO!”
Frantic feelings
of horror often hit Gay kids about to be visited by their mothers. Lovers
suddenly become just roommates. Physique magazines are hidden. Lesbian “dates”
are lined up to add to the heterosexual illusion.
The whole affair
becomes a phantasy “to keep Mom happy.” Tell her the truth? God, no, I couldn’t
do that. Telling Mom I’m a homosexual would be “just too much.” From the day we
first come out, Gay kids (male and female) manufacture dozens of reasons why
their homosexuality “must” be kept a secret. But can there be real love in such
a phantasy?
“If my Mother
cannot accept me as Gay, then she couldn’t really love me,” a tall, blond,
blue-eyed go-go boy in San Francisco told me recently.
Gay males
typically have a very close relationship with their mothers. As youngsters, Mom
seemed to always care, always worried about us, and provided comfort when
things got rough. But as we matured, the scene changed. We started grooving on
guys rather than girls. Secretly, we were “coming out.”
The
“double-life” living pattern gradually developed. We started to live our
private Gay life, while simultaneously maintaining straight appearances on the
job and in our family home.
We fooled
everyone but our own consciences. The guilt began to bug us with disturbed
sleep, nightmares, and some even started the slow process of drowning in booze
or drugs.
Christmastime
only intensified the troubles. ’Tis the season to be jolly, yet for many Gay
kids, it’s the bluest time of the year. We see love all over … except inside
our own hearts. Those living the double life may sing, laugh, and be merry
(Mary?), yet the tinsel and bright lights silently intensify the loneliness.
“There’s three
ways of handling a disturbing situation such as this,” says the Rev. A. Cecil
Williams, minister of Glide United Methodist Church in downtown San Francisco.
“You can (1) run away from it, (2) leave it as is and live with the pain, or
(3) you can change the situation.”
We’ve all tried
running away. Most of the quarter-million Gay people in the greater San
Francisco Bay Area come from other states. Some have run just by moving across
town. But it’s all the same; we soon learn that the problems go with us …
unsolved.
The second
method of coping with our homosexuality is by avoiding any direct discussion
with our families. Teenagers “coming out” can dream up the wildest stories
explaining to Mom or Dad why they spend so much time with their male “buddies.”
And it becomes a full-time job to somehow dodge all those probing questions at
home from suspicious parents asking about girls, girls, girls.
Facing the issue
head on and changing distorted parental ideas on homosexuality is a proven
successful method of dealing with parents, but it’s also the most difficult.
“It’s tough, baby, to look at ourselves honestly,” Rev. Williams said. “It
takes guts, and you can expect some resistance, especially at first.”
The toughest
part is making the initial decision to tell Mom like-it-is. Most parents know
very little about their own heterosexuality, less or nothing about homosexuality,
and never heard of bisexuality, says Ted McIlvenna, director of the National
Sex and Drug forum at Glide United Methodist Church in San Francisco.
That’s why I
honestly expected my “Nine Days with Mom” during her vacation to be pure hell
for me.
About ten years
ago, my homosexual activities were “discovered” by my university. I was
suddenly exposed. My parents were shocked. Obviously, I couldn’t run away from
it then, ignoring it was impossible, so I was forced to face my family head-on.
Still, I tried copping out.
Regular
psychiatric counseling satisfied another college, and my parents. But I adopted
the double life, since I stayed Gay. Life soon became shallow. I was
restricting any open expression of the most important emotion in life … love. I
wanted to give my love to another male, but it had to be kept secret from my
family.
Remember how
hard it was when you were a kid to keep a secret from your mother? It’s the
same when you become a teenager, or reach 35. Mothers have a way of knowing, of
sensing the truth … or lack of it.
This year, I
decided things would be different. I wasn’t ashamed to be Gay, so during Mom’s
visit, she was going to see her son as-is. I expected the worst.
During her first
vacation days, she graciously met my Gay boyfriends, and seemingly went along
approvingly as we toured the San Francisco Gay scene … shows, restaurants, and
dances. She even saw me smoke and get high.
After two days
of this, she became saturated and could take no more. She blew her stack and
thoroughly “read me out.” She bitched about everything.
I just let her
blow off the steam, then I had my say.
“If you came to
spy on me,” I told her calmly, but with determination, “then your visit was a
mistake. If, however, you came out to have a good time with your son, then try
to understand my life, don’t try to change it.”
That statement
was like a bombshell. Distorting its meaning and intent, she cried, sobbing
that I didn’t want her here, that I didn’t love her, and she started packing.
Reminding her
that I loved her very much, I simply repeated my original statement. She tried
everything … crying, pouting, and packing. Difficult as it was, I ignored her
carrying on, and said I’d drive her to the airport when she was ready. I meant
business. I also meant my original statement.
An incoming
phone call broke the suspense. I managed to stretch out that phone call to gain
time, time for both of us to “cool” off … time for emotions to return to
normal. It worked.
We were both
hungry, so we headed for Señor Pico’s for dinner. Hardly a word about the
confrontation was spoken. Mom soon became fascinated by the Mexican-American
dinner, and the Gay waiter’s detailed explanation of it. Sitting at a
neighboring table, I recognized a Gay bartender and his lover, both looking
dapper in business suits. It all had quite an effect on Mom.
“I’m now
convinced that all men have some homosexual in them” she said, as if just
uncovering a deep mystery, instead of a basic, fundamental fact of life.
“I’m beginning
to realize that there’s a whole lot I don’t understand about this [Gay life],”
she said. Progress was finally being made. It was progress through truth, by
facing reality head-on … difficult, but beautiful.
Three days of
her vacation had passed, and our fun was just beginning. Saturday night, I
“dated” a handsome young man named Kim. We went to the theatre, then the S.I.R.
[Society for Individual Rights] dance.
Several hundred
people were there dancing. Mom was surprised to see so many Gay “types.” I felt
very strange at first dancing with Kim right in front of my mother.
The shock came a
little later during an intermission. “It’s good to see you having such a good
time,” Mom whispered in my ear. That comment I didn’t expect, but it felt so
good I almost cried with joy.
Hallowe’en was
the following week. Explaining that it was “the” night for drags
coast-to-coast, I took her on a tour. Her eyes popped. “I can hardly believe
it. They’re positively fascinating,” she said, watching the “girls” parade into
the Fantasy in San Francisco.
I suddenly
realized something profound had happened in our relationship. I was beginning
to be proud to be alive … totally … for the first time in my life. She
commented on this.
“I think a
Mother and son should get together after the kid grows into manhood. You have
to educate your Mother, just as the Mother once educated the son as a child.
“I’ve seen kids
in Hippieland that would never try talking this way to their mothers. If the
kid was scared as a child, he (or she) will be scared as an adult. Some kids
run away even though they live in the same house.
“Kids should try
to think of their Mothers as human beings, not as dictators … regardless of
what happened in childhood. It’s not easy, though.
“I don’t think
you Gay kids respect your Mothers’ intelligence. You can’t talk to your Mother
as a grown-up. You think of Mom only as before, as a growing kid. Gay kids
never allow their Mothers to grow up WITH them,” Mom continued talking.
“Mothers should
be sent material about homosexuality: books, folders, the story as seen from
the Gay life, not a psychiatrist’s couch. If she’s really loving, she’ll read
them.
“I can remember
when homosexuality was never mentioned in the newspapers, but times are
changing. I can even remember when a pregnant woman was ashamed to appear on
the streets.
“You Gay kids
should give your parents a chance to be friendly. It may not work with all
families, but if there’s love in the family, they will gradually understand …
and accept.
“There’s only
two lines in some dictionaries about homosexuality, and that’s all some parents
know about it. An understanding of Gay life cannot be accomplished by reading
the dictionary,” my Mother said. “It’s too diversified, too different, there’s
too much to it.”
Inside my closet
now sits a Christmas package. Mom carried it all the way from the East Coast to
personally present it to me. Somehow, I already knew what’s wrapped up inside …
a gift of love.
