A Tale of Two Fathers' Days

     I awoke this morning to the sound of my phone ringing. Before I even opened my eyes, I knew who was calling. Sure enough, as I answered I was greeted by my daughters, in unison, declaring "Happy Father's Day!".
     I giggled and told them "thank you", and my youngest daughter said they had a "surprise" for me. My oldest did the verbal count of "1! 2! 3!". All three broke into song, singing a rendition of Selena Gomez' "Love You Like a Love Song." In their version, the chorus goes, "I, I love you like a love song, Daddy! I, I love you like a love song, Daddy!"
     I grinned from ear to ear, leaning the phone over so my partner, Jason, could listen. At the end of the song, my middle daughter, Mia, proclaimed, "I rearranged the words, Dad!" My oldest, Ella, was quick to retort, "But it was my idea, Dad!" We talked for a couple of minutes and I enjoyed the rest of my Father's Day. After all, it started on a "high note".
     It made me think of my own dad. I am not sure what his day was like, but it was probably markedly different from mine. My youngest brother ostracized himself from my parents several years ago and did not call or write. My other brother lives with my parents (still) and I am sure took dad out for a nice meal. I, for the first time in over three decades, did not get my dad a Father's Day card or wish him well.
     As you may know from other posts, my parents have pretty much cut me off since I came out. However, the past three years I have made attempts to send birthday and holiday cards and presents on occasion. I have recently decided I can no longer waste effort.
     I discovered from my daughters recently (and it was confirmed by my ex-wife) my parents have been telling my 8, 7 and 5 year old daughters their daddy is going to hell. For me, this was the last straw. Growing up, my parents resented my grandparents for telling me negative things about my own father. I remember how hurt and angry my dad was at times, not understanding why grandparents would turn a grandchild against his own father.
     History has a funny way of repeating itself. 30 years later, and my dad is telling my daughters things that could poison them against me.
     Could...but it hasn't, and it won't.
     I decided to take a course of action my parents never would. Before I even had kids, I told my parents clearly if they ever bad mouthed me or the girls mother like my grandparents had done I would cut off communication and not let them spend time with my daughters.
     I no longer have control over the latter, but I can control my own communication. My dad was in my thoughts today, but that was the extent. No card, no phone call, and at the end of the day, no guilt.
     My girls love me and were so excited to wish me a happy day. Apparently, I even have a hand-made gift on its way in the mail. I was able to appreciate what I have with my girls and celebrate being their dad.
     I only wish I could have celebrated being my father's son. I hope Father's Day for my dad was a reminder of what he has lost, rather than what he has. If he can remember how bad he felt when he was spoke of poorly, and seek to reconnect with me, his son, then maybe next year we can celebrate Father's Day together instead of isolation.

All in the Family: Where Prejudice Meets Reality

     A very important event occurred in my family last week: out of my generation of cousins, a fourth cousin came out as gay last week to his parents, then public to other friends and family. Of my cousins/second cousins, this makes the third out gay man and we have one lesbian cousin. I won't even begin to conjecture on those in my family still in the closet.
     Members of our family helped raise us, saw us grow, cheered our accomplishments and celebrated our lives. That is, until each of us came out. Some of our family members have chalked us up to "sinners". Others "tolerate" us because we are family, but in their eyes, we are still sinners and somehow less than we once were.
     I think family can be a place where our prejudices are challenged...if we allow them to be. For example, I grew up in a home where black people were regularly referred to as "niggers". That ugly moniker still gets used by my parents and brothers, largely because one of those "niggers" has not found his/her way into our family.
     I also grew up learning to refer to Hispanics and Latinos as "spics" and "wetbacks". However, this terminology largely disappeared because we ended up with some wonderful family members of Latino background. Over time, my family's prejudice was challenged and the knee jerk assumptions were fewer and far between.
     My hope is since there is a third "faggot" in our ranks (and one "dyke") my immediate family and members of our extended family would start questioning biases. At some point, ridiculous accusations of molestation, "giving in to Satan" and chemical imbalance as explanations should give way to emerging understandings of sexuality, including medically, psychologically AND theologically.
      If nothing else, I wonder how many more family members have to come out before our family evolves some of its thinking. If our family could adapt and accept other "scandals" in our family: affairs, women in the work force, divorce, drug abuse, mental illness, out-of-wedlock pregnancies, and bastard children, I'm sure this whole "gay" thing can be dealt with as well.

Working Through, Not Around: Broken Relationships with Parents

     I learned a mantra a long time ago I regularly pass on to my college students: you can't work your way around problems; you have to work your way through.
     I was reminded of this life truth again early this morning. I woke up, yelling out and crying from a terrible dream. My partner, Jason, just held me and calmed me down, and I eventually fell asleep in his arms.
     What led to this dream was the broken relationship with my parents. More specifically, the iciness by which my mom treats our current communication. Before I came out in 2009, I never had a good relationship with my father, so the fact that he stopped talking to me was not a great loss.
     My mom on the other hand hurt my feelings. Although our relationship has always been conflictual, I very much am my mother's son, and was always the closest to her of me and my brothers.
     Last year, my former university's newspaper did an expose on previous students, administrators and faculty members that have since come out gay. I agreed to be interviewed, and my parents cut off all communication. I didn't even receive so much as a card for Christmas.
     Last month, we were forced into the same space by my ex-wife because she tried to impose mandated supervised visitation (that's a whole other blog...she failed and the judge found her forcing me to have my parents along was not legal).
     Anyway, after zero communication since last September, I was suddenly thrust into an environment with my parents. For the sake of my daughters, I resolved to make it as positive as possible.
     It was good to see my parents. The last day of our forced confinement, we actually had a good time and it felt like "old times". We took the girls to a flea market and had a good day.
     I started talking to mom on the phone again, but one of the conversations turned ugly when she stated she would side with my ex if I tried getting more visitation with my kids.
     My birthday was this last week. I got a cheap card in the mail from parents, but no phone call. This was its own message, of course. Since moving out at age 18, my mom has always called me on my birthday. It really upset me she didn't call.
     Last night I dreamed I was home. I was helping my mom in the kitchen, just wrapping up dinner and washing dishes. She started in on my life, and my choices, and started saying hateful things that were a collage of hurtful things she has said since I came out.
     She became increasingly angry, and in my dream she grabbed my throat and took me to the ground. As I type this, my pulse is racing and I am sweating because of the memory.
     I don't need psychoanalysis to analyze this dream. Hundreds of miles away, without very much communication, at my age of 39 years old my mom is choking me.
     I now need to take the advice I give others. I have to work through this problem.
     I can't change my mom. We will never find common ground as long as she believes I am going to hell and am somehow less of a person and man for being gay.
     But that is HER problem, and I cannot own her issues.
     If you have never asked me, I am a big believer in therapy. It's time I get back to my therapist. Even though it was a dream, when I went into the bathroom this morning I still looked for hand marks around my neck.
     The hands of my mother were an illusion, but the pain is very real.
    

The Mixed Blessing of Couplehood

     When I was parading as a "straight" guy in the South, I noticed a disturbing trend. When my students would enter into serious relationships, many of their single friends would stop reaching out to continue investing in the relationship.
     I have discovered, the hard way, that the same is true for gay relationships. When I moved to San Jose, I developed what I considered a close group of friends. When I broke up with my partner, who was a mutual friend with all of the same people, all did a good job of navigating his needs as well as mine. It felt really great to have friends during that difficult time.
     When I met my partner Jason and we started dating seriously, most of those same people started fading away. Until recently, I worked hard to invite those dear friends to different events and try to keep the friendships healthy. For a while there was an attempt at an effort to reach out to me and include me, but it soon abated.
     I don't get called by most of them any longer. I don't get asked to go and do things. I am far from being someone who is enmeshed with his partner. I can spend time with just my friends.
     However, I think the fact I am in a serious relationship and have a partner puts me at odds with most of my former group. My ex-partner's inability to be civil to me over a year later aside, I also believe the fact I am in a relationship somehow puts up a barrier to some members of the group being able to relate.
     It has always been odd to me. When I've been single I have not had a problem navigating friendships with friends in relationships. I still see them as having an invidual identity, and although some have gotten lost in their romantic relationships I have always made it a point to not treat someone who is coupled differently.
     And now that I am in a relationship, I don't see my single friends differently. I miss them. I miss the fellowship and the comradery. However, after a time, I can only try so much with no "quid pro quo" before I stop trying.
     That time is now, and I am grieving what was. Facebook is cruel in regards to these type of situations. It allows me to see my friends move on in their lives without me, and it sucks. Pictures and posts of the places they go without me rub salt in the wound.
     The past several months I have tried making new friendships, but a lot of single guys have an aversion. Jason and I have some great couple friends, but so far none of them seem to really operate independently without their partner.
     Jason and I love spending time with one another, and prefer to do so. But there are times in both our lives where different interests or schedules invite the possibility of spending quality time with friends. This morning, for example, one of Jason's friends was in San Jose from San Francisco, and they went and had coffee. When I was visiting my girls last month, Jason's best friend from Salinas came to San Jose and they went out for a night on the town.
     The last time someone has called me, just to spend time with me, was before I started dating Jason almost a year ago.
     I miss my friends.

The Importance of Family

     It has been almost two months since my last post. Life has been busy, and part of that recent busyness was a visit from my gay cousin, Matt.
     Technically my second cousin, Matt's mom is my mom's cousin. We grew up sharing many birthday and holiday celebration together. Four years my junior, we even were in the same high school at the same time for a year.
     Although we spent a lot of time together at family functions, Matt and I never became really close. I think we both saw in the other the truth about our sexuality, and this put up a barrier between us getting closer. We both knew being gay was something our family would not accept easily.
     I tried to come out at age 19, and it went very poorly with my family. I then determined to marry and have a family, because that is what I was "supposed" to do. Matt felt this same pressure, and was engaged to be married.
     Two months before the wedding, he called it off. Wisely, he determined it would be a mistake and made the difficult decision to be true to himself, honest with others and strive for a life of integrity.
     Now both of us are older, and closer than we ever were before. I had such a great time spending time with Matt. He met my partner and stayed with us for an evening. We took him out for his birthday to the Castro area of San Francisco and not only had some great laughs, but also some great talks.
     His parents, although they have some differences with his decision, are supportive and loving. My parents once again cut off all communication last September. My hope is that his parents' example will influence my parents, and they will see the importance of maintaining a relationship with their oldest son.
     Until then, I am overjoyed to have a family member that understands me and that I can share my life with...I love you, Matt!

LGBT: Letters That Should Remain Together?

     I recently gave a talk at my college entitled, "The Importance of Coming Out Early: Lessons from a Hartnell Instructor." There were about 200 students and faculty in attendance, and it was largely well-received.
     Immediately after the talk, and also via email, I was contacted by members representing the L, B and T in "LGBT".
     The lesbians felt I should have talked more about the challenges of lesbians.
     The bisexuals felt I should have talked more about the challenges of bisexuals.
     The transgendered felt I should have talked more about the challenges of being transgendered.
     At first, I felt bad. I didn't do a good job of representing the LGBT community in a public forum. I listened very attentively to the concerns presented to me and initially felt sympathy.
     However, in hindsight, I am now reconsidering those negative feelings. I am a gay man. I am not a lesbian. I am not bisexual. I am not transgendered.
      My experience, and therefore my most valuable knowledge to pass to others, is that from the gay experience. It has led me to what could be a controversial claim:
     It is time for the individual letters of LGBT to stand on their own.
     The needs and concerns of the gay community are uniquely gay. The needs and concerns of lesbiana are uniquely lesbian. Bisexuals are bisexuals and transgendered are transgendered.
     I completely understand the history of these four coming together. In many ways, these four were like the Island of Misfit Toys. The only way the four individually had a voice and influence was to join together.
     However, that time has come and gone. With laws and society changing, LGBT does not need to stay huddled together as if the four have a lot in common.
     Quite frankly, we don't any longer. This shift is very subtle but obvious. Many LGBT activists, writers and researchers have been referencing a "plateau" as of late...that the once dynamic momentum of the LGBT community may be cooling.
     I would suggest the reason for this is that it has become convoluted to try and discuss and persuade from a combined LGBT perspective. As a gay man in the gay community, I want to start working towards efforts to promote gay concerns without the extra burden of lesbian, bisexual and transgendered considerations.
     Furthermore, whereas as gays and lesbians have be successful in promoting societal awareness and acceptance of their labels, bisexuals and transgendered have not had similar success. I believe this is largely because bisexuals and transgendered have been lumped with and therefore upstaged by gay and lesbian promotion.
     It is time for each letter of LGBT to stand on its own, claiming its own identity, and remembering fondly the initial collaboration which brought us out of the shadows. The way forward is for lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgendered to walk their own path in the sun.

Sight Beyond Sight! What Thundercats Has Taught Me About Life

     Growing up, one of my favorite cartoons was "Thundercats". A race of cat-like humanoids is all but eradicated by the evil Mumm-ra and the surviving members are lead by Lion-o. He carries and wields in times of trouble the Sword of Omens. When he needs to see a situation more clearly and gain greater insight, he holds the sword aloft and declares, "Sword of Omens: Give me sight beyond sight!"

     What this cartoon taught me at a really young age is sometimes we don't see life clearly. This has helped temper some depression I have had of late in terms of how family and former friends see me. When I came out, some of my family and friends acknowledged immediately I made a very difficult choice punctuated by some positive and negative decisions, but ultimately chose a path truer and healthier than I had previously. Some of my family and friends were upset and confused by my decision at first, but as they have talked to me and monitored my "new life" they, too, have come to understand why I did what I did. And others, no matter how hard I try and no matter the dialogue I try to encourage only see me as a failure, a sinner, a deviant and a bad father.

     If my own situation has taught me anything it is to truly not judge someone else's choices and circumstances. At almost 40, I am just realizing how truly critical I have been regarding others' lives.  I have spent almost 30 years as a professing Christian, and yet, I really have done a poor job of seeing others the way I think Jesus would.

     My hero, Leonardo da Vinci, summed it up best:

"There are three classes of people. Those who see. Those who see when they are shown. Those who do not see."

     I don't have a Sword of Omens, but I do hope I can be someone who sees clearly, especially when it comes to my assessment of others.