Remember that you're right

I’ve known what I was for as long as I can remember. I was physically attracted to men long before I had any idea what that meant, what “sexual attraction was,” or what the word “gay” implied.

There are all sorts of theories as to what causes the phenomenon of homosexuality: is it genetic? Is it an environmental factor in your upbringing? Does a part of your brain develop differently? The science is compelling, because I like science—but, at the end of the day, does it really matter?

All my childhood, I was very alienated from my father. He just felt like a stranger in my house, the person I never connected with. He ended up being my mental scapegoat for all my frustrations and anger, because whenever we did actually talk to one another, it was because I had disappointed him.

My advice to anyone who wants to become a parent is to expect the unexpected—not to have a contingency plan, but to actually assume that your child will not grow into the person you have imagined. You may have a family business you want your descendants to take over, or maybe you just want your son to play on the high school football team so you can relive your glory days, or you want your daughter to be a singer because you got yourself a menial job and missed your chance to do what you love. But let’s face it—your child is going to be different from you in ways you didn’t anticipate, and like you in ways you don’t want. You fed and taught and nurtured and housed your child, but that doesn’t mean that he or she “owes” it to you to live out your dreams.

I hated myself a lot as a teen. My self-esteem was deplorable, and I got dangerously close to suicide a couple of times. But really, I was just feeling sorry for myself—for something I shouldn’t even feel sorry about in the first place. Being gay is WHAT I am—not WHO I am. And there’s a crucial difference there.

I didn’t even tell my closest friends, or even anonymous strangers on the Internet, that I was gay. Nobody knew until I hit college. I finally was able to admit to my friends the truth, and I was ashamed at holding it back for so long, when I knew that they would accept me. It’s hard, though, being raised to believe that something you couldn’t control is wrong.

When I came out to my parents, it didn’t go over well. This is the scariest part for young adults who are coming to terms with what they are—we fear that those we depend on won’t accept us. I was reassured by some friends that everything would be okay, and I finally gathered up the courage.

Well, I’m sorry to say that the truth is, sometimes things DON’T work out, especially when you have your doubts. But it’ll be okay. If you have very religious, traditionalist parents, I am going to recommend to you that you wait until a time when you are ready to be independent, because you need to be prepared for the worst. The worst happened to me. I am writing this in case the worst happens to you.

My parents were disgusted. I was pulled out of college (which forfeited a $36,000 merit scholarship), and I lost my scholarship. I was forced to quit my own job, and my vehicle privilege was taken away. I was sent to counseling to “correct” my behavior. My first relationship was severed, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so devastated before or since. Your first heartbreak is always the hardest, or so I’m told.

I wasn’t prepared for all that, but I was prepared for ONE thing, and that was this: I knew that I was right. By the time I had approached my parents, I had worked up confidence. I was proud of who I was, and I understood that my sexual orientation does not define me, does not restrict who I can be or what I can do. And when my parents rejected me—I realized something. I don’t need their approval, because the only person I need to convince of my worth is myself.

I left my home and my family with nothing but a backpack. Now I am the youngest programmer of a small business team in a web design and development firm, making a healthy salary and balancing my engagement with my career. And I’m proud of myself, because I managed this despite missing my opportunity to finish my degree, despite not giving in when things were tough.

People often emphasize that being gay is not a choice. Well, what if it were? Would it really matter? If I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, and “fix” my sexuality—I never would, because if it were a choice, it wouldn’t be a mistake. Being gay showed me that what my family was teaching me was wrong. Being gay opened me up to a new philosophy that I probably wouldn’t have discovered if it weren’t parents rejecting me and showing me the flaw in theirs. And I just can’t imagine there is anyone else who would suit me quite like my fiancé does. I’m satisfied with my life so far. I had to grow up fast and learn to take responsibility—but I’m happy now, and proud of who I am.

If you are scared of how your family will react to the news—be ready. And remember, above everything else, that YOU are your most important judge. Don’t let anyone—not even your parents—tell you that you are a bad person for loving someone who deserves to be loved. Don’t let anyone tell you that you have to like something you don’t want to like, do something you don’t want to do, or be someone you don’t want to be. Be what you need to be in order to be happy, and don’t feel guilty about it. If people don’t understand, it is their own loss, and it will make you stronger.

And if this sounds like a hard obstacle to cross—well, you’re right. But it can’t be as hard as living a lie all your life instead of enjoying it.

 

Thanks for the compliments!

Although I immediately noticed a few grammar mistakes, but I can't seem to find an edit button, and now I've got the dreadful feeling that my sloppiness will be etched into the permanence of time that is the Internet....