A Mother, a Son, and a T-Shirt: the Importance of Mutual Empathy

"Mom, can you pick me up a blank shirt and some T-Shirt transfers?"
"Sure, what for?"

"I want to make a shirt."
"What kind of shirt?"
"Just... a shirt."
"I know that. What kind?"
"A... a pride shirt."
"Pride?"

"...for coming out."
"As... gay?"
"...yyyyes."

That was the first time I ever came out to anyone. And thus began what was possibly the most uncomfortable conversation of my life.

First, an explanation of the T-Shirt thing. There was a month left of high school. I'd decided that before I left all these people behind, some of whom I liked and some of whom I really didn't, I wanted them all to know the truth about my sexual orientation. And I wanted to do it with a T-shirt. See, I went to a Catholic high school, with uniforms and all, but one Friday every month would be a 'non-uni' day. The night before that last non-uniform day of my high school career was when I approached my mother with my request, and it's also when I first came out to her.

I wouldn't say my mom was really homophobic, but a lot of what she said that night really bothered me. She asked questions like "And you're sure you don't have any feelings towards girls?" and "Do you wish you were straight?" Well, it certainly sounded to me like she wished I was, and that's really not the most encouraging thing to hear from your parent when coming out. I'm terrible at expressing myself when put on the spot, so of course I didn't mention it. Then, after some more discomforting questions (which I answered with as little elaboration as possible) and reassurances that she still loved and accepted me, my mom went on to strongly urge me not to come out... at least not on a shirt. I remember her asking me "If not for yourself... just do it for me?" At that point I was tired and feeling pretty terrible about myself, so I dropped the issue and went to bed. The next day I ended up wearing my Doctor Who shirt, and I didn't end up coming out to anybody else for months.

It may seem odd, but that shirt was really the only way I felt comfortable coming out. I like wearing graphic T-shirts because they're a simple way to tell people about myself. Places I've visited, events I've participated in, things I'm a fan of... they let people know things about me that might not come up in conversation otherwise. For example, my sexual orientation. Many of my high school classmates were people I'd known for a long time, since before I even knew what 'homosexuality' was. While I was still learning about it and figuring out who I was, I just completely avoided questions and discussions about girls and sex. I did that for so long that, by the time I was sure I was gay, I didn't really know how to tell people. I never actually lied - I just made sure to answer questions as vaguely as possible. (For example, when asked why I'd never had a girlfriend, I'd say "I just don't find any of the girls at this school attractive.") Basically, it felt like I'd been telling a lie this whole time. And revealing such a huge lie isn't something I felt comfortable doing in casual conversation.

Not that I didn't try. Every time the guys I hung out with started talking about which girls they found attractive, or which celebrities they would have sex with, I thought "This is my chance. Just say it." But then it would come to me and I would cave. I'd shrug, or tell them they were being idiots, or take some other escape route. Of course they would call me gay, and homo, and fag... not in the sense that they actually considered it a possibility, but in a "Haha, just kidding, we know you're just shy" way. And that would make me even more afraid to come out. That's why I wanted a shirt: I only have to put it on once, in the morning, then for the rest of the day I can't avoid the topic of my sexual orientation. Everyone comes out in their own unique way, and while my method may seem odd, it's one that I decided would work best for me personally.

But my mom's words totally undercut all the confidence I'd been building up. I didn't come out to anyone else until after I graduated. That summer I did end up ticking the 'interested in men' box on my Facebook profile, but it just didn't feel like it had the same impact as my original plan would have. My siblings noticed and asked about it, and they seemed fine with it, which I was happy about. But for the next year the topic barely came up again with my mom. There was a comment here or there, like when she was worried how my roommates at university would handle it if they found out, but I didn't want to talk to her about it because I felt so hurt. I'd been silenced, disempowered, and emotionally blackmailed by the person I was supposed to be able to trust the most.

When I came back home from my first year at university, I requested the shirt again. Our city's pride day was coming, so I felt a renewed interest in trying to convince my mother of my position. This led to several more discussions, both on the topic of coming out and on homosexuality in general, including the classic "Why do you need to advertise your sexuality?" and the ever-popular discussion on how 'natural' homosexuality is. The two of us just could not seem to get through to each other, and it really bothered me. But then two things happened, both of which would contribute to a sudden yet sincere reconciliation of our views.

The first was something I did for my mother. It was after a conversation we had about my being gay, wherein she practically told me that she wished I wasn't. She'd brought up things like how I was at a higher risk of contracting AIDS, how I was going to be harassed and made fun of, and how much easier things would have been if I were bisexual. As I mentioned before, I'm not very eloquent on the spot, so when I got the strong feeling that she was disappointed in me, I didn't know how to talk about it. I knew she didn't mean to make me feel that way, but it still stung. Then I thought for a moment... why was she so clueless about this stuff? I mean, there are tons of resources on the internet that tell you how to deal with people coming out. But I only knew that because I was gay myself... I guess she just didn't realise this stuff was out there. So I got on her computer and opened up the PFLAG (Parents, Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) website, went to the page on having gay children, told her to read it, and went to bed. This led to a noticeable difference in how we talked to each other, and I think it really did open her mind in a way I didn't really know how to.

The second thing was actually quite surprising to me, in that I had an epiphany where I wasn't really expecting one. My mother and I watch a lot of television shows together, one of which is Glee. Yes, I still watch Glee, partly out of a sense of obligation towards a show I've been with since the beginning, and partly because I like to keep on top of LGBT representation on American television. At any rate, I usually watch the episodes first on my own, and then my mom watches it when she has time. I'll usually be home too, so I'll catch it a second time with her.

For a little context, there's a character on Glee named Dave Karofsky, a football player who used to bully Kurt (one of the show's gay characters). Eventually it's revealed that Karofsky himself is gay, and he's shown having a lot of trouble coming to terms with it. He does finally accept it, but changes schools to stay in the closet and avoid being bullied himself. In the third season episode "On My Way", one of Karofsky's new teammates discovers that he's gay and outs him to the rest of his school. When he arrives at school the next day, he's met with homophobic insults and harassment. What follows is a scene in which we see Karofsky contemplating, and eventually attempting, suicide, while another character sings Young the Giant's "Cough Syrup". I'm not going to ask you to watch it, as it can be a very painful scene to watch, but if you want to you can find it on YouTube by searching for the "Glee Cough Syrup scene".

When I first saw the episode on my own, it hit me, but as someone who was never out in high school and didn't experience bullying like that, I don't think I could ever fully understand the kind of pain Karofsky (or anyone else who's been in his position) was feeling. On the second viewing, though, the episode hit me in a completely different way. There's a scene that comes later, where Karofsky's father walks in to find him unconscious, and we're shown a parent in serious fear for their child's life. Previously I'd sort of glossed over that part, focusing mainly on Karofsky's feelings, but when watching it with my mother, I was really forced to think about it from that perspective. In that moment I very clearly saw the reason my mother didn't want me walking around with a shirt proclaiming to everyone that I was gay. When I saw that scene with Karofsky and his father, I thought about just how terrifying it could be to be the parent of an LGBT child.

That didn't mean that what my mother had done was right. My right to come out how and when I want to is my own and nobody else's, but my mother had (perhaps without realising it) used emotional blackmail to take control of my coming out. But that's not how she saw it, and that's where the disagreement started. In her mind, all she was doing was protecting her child from hatred, and possibly saving his life. In previous conversations, she'd mentioned that she didn't want me to be bullied, and I said I was fully aware of and prepared for the possibility. But she never brought up her real fear, which was that it would push me to take my own life. She'd always thought of me as a sensitive kid. I personally felt I could handle any bullying that came my way, and I was confident that it wouldn't be enough to drive me to suicide. But I never thought to tell her these things, because she never mentioned the topic herself.

With these two events - my mother starting to read about PFLAG, and me seeing that episode of Glee - we each started seeing the issue through each others' eyes. The disagreement wasn't resolved instantly, but we started having conversations in which we were better able to communicate with each other. My mom has always been very concerned with the safety of her children, especially after the death of our father. But having never been a parent, I originally couldn't really follow her train of thought when she refused my request for a T-shirt. Similarly, as someone who's not LGBT, my mom didn't have any idea just how important it was not just that I come out, but also how and when I did. What caused her to finally change her mind was that she finally started taking my own needs into consideration, and I was better able to communicate those needs once I understood her own motivations on the matter. She finally agreed to let me have my shirt, and admitted that she could have communicated and listened better. I also admitted that maybe I could have given her more than 12 hour to process the fact that I was gay and wanted to come out at school.

I still regret not being able to come out earlier, the way I wanted, but I'm happy that I can finally talk to my mom about my homosexuality without feeling like she's somehow disappointed in me. It may not seem like much, but within a year I turned my mom into a much more sensitive and understanding ally. Not all disagreements can end as happily as ours, of course; there are people out there who are just too stubborn to accept that their views could be flawed in any way. But there's another kind of person out there - people who care. Their ignorance comes not from hatred or disgust, but simply inexperience. These people should not be met with anger, or harsh resistance, but with guidance. There were times when I was so offended by my mother that I wanted to yell at her, and never talk to her again. But instead, I explained - not condescendingly, but earnestly and with some outside help - what she was doing wrong, and she showed an honest willingness to learn. And I had to put myself in her shoes and think about how to really explain it in a way she would get. Sometimes, yes, we do need to fight, to stand up for ourselves and call out people for their hatred. But sometimes, when faced simply with lack of knowledge or experience, what we really need is conversation, and just a little bit of understanding... from both sides.