Coming Out to Play, page 12
While I was in London struggling in secret to figure out how I was going to tell my family I was gay, I was vaguely keeping tabs on the big marriage equality battle going on back at home. Just a few months before, President Obama had announced his support for same-sex marriage—something no sitting president had ever done before. Going into the election no one knew whether taking such a bold position on a hot-button social issue would help or hurt his chances of being reelected.
I read about all of this on Twitter, but it was more background noise than anything. I was so caught up in my own struggle over coming out that it didn’t feel like the marriage equality fight had a lot to do with me; the thought of getting married to a man never even crossed my mind. I hadn’t even been on a date with a guy! And just because the President of the United States supported marriage equality didn’t meant that I’d be accepted—let alone embraced—for being gay, especially by my family.
Before I reached out to Alicia—I’d decided to tell my sister first—I thought through all the possible scenarios and ramifications. (In truth I obsessed about it more than thought about it in an organized way.) Would they feel like they didn’t know me anymore? Would they wonder what this meant about my life? Would they hold it against me that I’d lied to them all this time, that I’d tried to deceive them into believing I was straight when I was really gay? Would they ever trust me again? Would they treat me differently? Would they understand? Would they reject me? Would they still love me?
Deep down I think I knew that my sisters and brother would be okay with it. They never gave me any reason to believe they wouldn’t accept me. I never heard them say anything hateful about gay people. But, then, I never heard them say anything positive on the subject, either, although I’m not sure that would have made much of a difference.
With my mom, I knew she would still love me. My mom lives for her kids. But I was worried that she might not understand and would reject me initially, that she wouldn’t be supportive, would distance herself and treat me differently. If she said, “I need to think about it,” I would have felt devastated, because expressing any doubt about her love for me would have made me think our relationship had changed forever.
I was worried by the stories I’d heard about others in similar circumstances, like Tyler Clementi, the college student who wound up killing himself in the fall of 2010 after coming out to his parents and being spied on by his roommate when he was kissing another guy. Tyler’s parents were religious and he’d told friends he felt like his mother rejected him. (It turns out that what his mom actually said was that she “needed time.”)
I also remember overhearing someone tell one of my friends about how difficult it was for his mother when he came out to her. And another time I was watching a show on MTV where a gay teen said, “My mom didn’t accept me at first, but then she got over it.” Some people might hear that story and feel hopeful, that a mother came to accept her gay child, but all I could focus on was the initial rejection.
One thing that didn’t occur to me was to do any research to see if I could get advice on how to come out to my family. I had so successfully isolated myself and screened out the gay world (except for the bad things I heard people say) that I had no idea there were gay organizations that provide all kinds of advice for people who want to come out to their parents. There’s even an organization for gay Catholics. I was totally clueless, but I didn’t let that stop me.
Looking back to that time, it’s hard for me to remember just how scared I was. But then I remind myself of how much I had to get beyond in order to take the next step and call my sister Alicia. It was an accumulation from my whole life of all the things I’d heard in the past that made me hate myself—that left me thinking I was a fundamentally flawed, bad person. If I felt that way about myself, why wouldn’t my family think the same things about me and reject me? So telling the truth meant pushing past all that fear, convincing myself that I was a good person, that God loved me as I was, and then finding the courage to at least take the first step and tell Alicia.
There was something else going through my head at that time. My decision to come out to my family was not about them. I wasn’t doing this for them; this whole thing was about me. It was about me coming to terms with myself. It was about me realizing that I wasn’t a bad person, that I was supposed to do good on this earth. So in the end it didn’t matter what anyone else said or thought. At least that’s what I told myself. Yes, I was afraid, but I needed to get this done and I needed to do it for myself.
There was never a question in my mind that Alicia would be first. She has a strong character and we love each other very much. She’s the kind of person I felt comfortable talking to about everything, except the fact that I was gay. She’s a very emotional person and she’s acutely aware of what other people are feeling, which I’m sure is something that serves her well in her work as a nurse.
Sometimes I think Alicia is psychic, because she can sense when things aren’t right. Or she’ll talk about being with a patient when he’s died and she can feel the energy leave the room. She’s also always been in tune with everything that’s going on in my life. But that didn’t mean I felt one hundred percent certain about how she’d respond when I told her. What Alicia had said to me the previous Christmas about not believing in gay marriage and how she didn’t know whether being gay was something you were born with or learned worried me and made me wonder. What if she told me that she still loved me but couldn’t accept that I was gay? I didn’t know if I could handle it if that was how she reacted.
In early November I emailed Alicia and wrote, “Hey, let’s make a date to go on Skype,” but I didn’t let on that there was anything big I wanted to tell her. A couple of days before the call I wrote a letter, which I planned to email to Alicia once we were on Skype so she could read it on her own and then we’d talk about it. I knew that I could never say all the things I wanted to say face-to-face, even via Skype. It was a lot easier for me to write down everything than to get intensely emotional on the call, so that’s how I came up with this two-step coming-out plan. In the letter I said that I’d known for a long time I was gay, that I’d been struggling, that I’d wanted to tell her earlier but I just couldn’t. And I said, “This isn’t something I chose, but it’s something that I am. It’s how I was created. It doesn’t change anything.” The tone of the note was almost apologetic because I felt so bad about not talking to Alicia sooner.
I was nervous writing the letter, but not nearly as nervous and scared and super-jittery as I was when I sat on my bed after practice and opened my computer to make the call. It was about three in the afternoon in London, so about seven a.m. in California where Alicia was. I’d been obsessing about the call the whole week and was lucky I didn’t get run over crossing the street on my way home because I was so on edge and distracted.
My hands were sweating as I brought Skype up on my laptop screen and clicked on Alicia’s number. I kept telling myself that my sister would still love me, but I worried that she’d be upset because I’d lied to her for so long. All that lying, and not just with Alicia, left me feeling totally ashamed.
Once Alicia and I were connected and said our hellos, I said, “I’m going to send you an email that you can’t show anyone, that’s really private. I want you to read it when we’re off Skype and then call me right back.” Alicia cautioned me about emailing to her AOL account. “I think Dad can look at my AOL account,” she said. I didn’t know how much of a risk that was, but I was so paranoid of anyone finding out without me telling them first that I told Alicia to create a Gmail account that no one else had access to, which she did, and then I sent the letter and we signed off.
As soon as I sent the email I remember thinking, Oh, shit! I knew deep down that Alicia would always love me, but as well as I knew her I couldn’t know what she was thinking and couldn’t know what she’d say. I hadn’t told anyone in my family. Gosh, I hadn’t told anyone in the world except for Jessica, who was basically a stranger, and I didn’t care what she thought. What Alicia thought meant everything to me—if she questioned our relationship or had anything negative to say, I didn’t think I could take it.
Maybe thirty seconds later Alicia called me back. I didn’t think she’d had enough time to read the whole email, but when she came back on Skype I could see she had tears in her eyes. Here’s what Alicia said she remembers feeling when she first read the email:
I had a sense of relief and shame. The relief was, finally, he said it. I thought, The truth will set you free. Thank goodness! I was thinking maybe Robbie had been sexually abused because of the way he was hiding things. So it was also a relief that he’s just gay! And I felt shame that he couldn’t confide in me when he was younger, and he had to go through all that pain alone and that I couldn’t protect him when my dad was yelling at him. I just wish I’d been able to hold his hand when he was little and somehow let him know he was good and it was okay. I also felt bad that in the past I’d said to Robbie that I didn’t believe in gay marriage and didn’t know if it was something you were born with or learned.
Knowing now how Alicia felt after reading my letter, I think she was being too hard on herself. She was a wonderful sister to me growing up and as far as marriage equality and how someone winds up gay, all of us in our family have come a long way in our thinking about all of this stuff, including me.
The first things Alicia said to me after reading the letter were, “I love you so much, Robbie. I don’t care that you’re gay. I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through all of this by yourself.” She said she was happy for me that I didn’t have to struggle with this alone anymore. Alicia also asked, “What do you need from me? What do you want to do?”
I told Alicia that I needed to tell Mom, and she offered to do it for me. For a moment I thought it would be easier that way, but I knew I needed to tell Mom myself. I said, “I was thinking I’d come home in January and talk to Mom in person.” Alicia was emphatic that I needed to tell her sooner, that Mom was worried about me. I told her that I’d have to think about it.
Not so surprisingly, I wasn’t the only one in my family keeping secrets. Alicia didn’t tell me that even before I told her I was gay, she and Mom had talked about it. She’d been having dreams about me and remembers feeling a sense of darkness around me, that something was troubling me. She told me later that in the dream I was climbing this mountain and I was wearing a big hat. We talked about what it meant, that maybe it was about me struggling, and that the big hat represented me being different.
So Alicia had mentioned to Mom that she was worried, and Mom agreed that there was “something holding Robbie back.” Alicia suggested that perhaps I was gay, and they wound up having a conversation in which they sorted through all the clues and all the things that did and didn’t add up, like the fact that I’d dated girls in the past. They also discussed how they should react if it turned out that what they suspected was true. That explains why Alicia wanted me to tell Mom right away, but I didn’t know they’d already been talking about it. I just knew that I needed some breathing room to overcome my fears for a second time so I could tell Mom. I’d need even more courage to tell Mom than I had with Alicia, because what my mom thought and felt about me mattered more than anyone’s opinion in the world. So Alicia got stuck having to fend off our mother’s questions in the weeks that followed, even though she’d already learned the truth. Alicia hates lying, so I know this was painful for her and I’m sorry for having put her through that.
Alicia and I talked for probably an hour and it took most of that hour for me to calm down. It felt like I’d just climbed off a roller coaster, the adrenaline still working its way through my system. Alicia asked lots of questions: How long did I know I was gay? Was I dating anyone? Had I had a relationship in the past? It was a really easy and free-flowing conversation, which is how it’s always been with her.
At the end of the call Alicia said, “Love you, Robber.” I told Alicia I loved her and signed off. That night she sent me a supportive text and then we Skyped every day for a week (and every other day in the weeks after) and talked about the things we always did, but we also speculated about how various family members would react. For the most part she thought everyone would be okay with the news that I was gay, but Alicia was concerned about our mom, our dad, and our grandparents. I was most worried about my mother. Catholicism plays such a big role in our mom’s life that Alicia said she just didn’t know how Mom would react. That was a big question mark for both of us.
It took me weeks to get up the courage to tell my mother, but I couldn’t wait forever because it wasn’t fair to Alicia. I knew when I first told Alicia that once I’d told one member of my family the truth, I’d be forced to tell everyone else in my family, too.
So I took a deep breath after getting off yet one more call in which Alicia begged me to tell our mother and emailed my mom to set up a Skype date. My plan was to do the same thing as I had with Alicia: write the letter, Skype, email the letter and have Mom read it, and then Skype again.
In the letter, which I wrote in my bedroom at home after training one afternoon, I said a lot of the same things to my mother that I had written in my letter to Alicia, so it should have been easier; but given that it was my mom, it was even more challenging and nerve-wracking the second time around. Here’s what I wrote:
Mom,
This is the hardest thing I have ever had to write or go through in my life.
Sometimes I think, Why would God put me through this?, but I have come to realize that He has a purpose for me. He has a plan for everyone obviously, and although my path will not be easy I choose to be honest.
As you might have suspected I am gay. The only reason I say you might have suspected is because you are my mom. I honestly believe moms can feel these kinds of things and we are very, very close.
I have been this way forever. I would not choose this life for myself or anyone close to me, but I have come to accept it and I am proud of the person I have become.
I have tried my whole life not to be gay, because of the way I was raised and because of my beliefs. Constantly struggling with myself has not been healthy and this has made me closed off emotionally to a lot of people.
I have dated girls, hooked up with girls, prayed, read books, all in the failing effort to try to change myself. I have come to the conclusion that this is not what He wants, nor is it what I want. After twenty-five years I have accepted myself and I have realized I was created this way for a reason.
As you know God created us all with our different talents and skills. He created us to be different, and because of this I can’t believe the life He chose for me is a life of sin.
I know I am a good person. I care for people, love my family and friends.
I am gay and I have to break barriers and be the same person that I have always been.
I am sorry I had to write this to you but it would be too hard for me to tell you in person mainly because I know that this is a disappointment for you.
I want you to know I will always be the same person. My beliefs have not changed. I still believe in the same life principles.
My whole life I have felt alone because of this and I believe I am ready to be open with people.
I want you to know you can tell as many people as you want and if you don’t want to tell anyone, as well, I 100% understand that.
I am sure Grandpa and Grammers won’t understand but in time I think people will realize I am still the same good person.
Again, I know this will be hard for you to come to terms with, but I will always love you no matter what.
Lets talk this over, but I had to put it into words first so you could understand how I am feeling.
Love your Son,
Robbie
I read that letter now and can feel how much I was still struggling to come to terms with who I was, and I can see how a lot of what I wrote in that letter was for me, not my mom. As much as I needed to tell my mother that I was a good person and that this was how God created me, I needed to tell myself, too. I can also see what a long way I’d come from the days when I prayed for God to make me straight.
When I emailed my mother to tell her I wanted to Skype, I wrote, “Hey mom, I need to talk to you about something.” I don’t know if she knew anything was up. In the past I would have said the same thing and the “something” could have been anything from soccer stuff to “I need help with my taxes.” I Skyped with my mom a lot, so maybe she could feel that this was different. I’ve always felt really connected to my mom and we’ve had what’s felt like a special relationship, but I also struggled in my relationship with her because I couldn’t share so much of what was going on inside me and was afraid she wouldn’t like this side of me because of her religious beliefs.
For my mom, church comes first. She goes to mass every single day. She speaks at mass. She reads the Bible. She says the rosary every night. I could only imagine it would be a challenge for her to have a son whose very identity was disapproved of by her Church. I know that’s not the case with everyone. There are a lot of Catholics who don’t agree with the Church about a lot of things, but my mom is very committed to the principles of the Catholic Church and I was afraid that because of her beliefs she would wonder whether I’d be going to hell because I was gay.
