As I’ve mentioned before, I was raised in a strict Christian household. It was full of love, but it was also a house that didn’t like Ellen DeGeneres or Rosie O'Donnell simply because they were gay. A house that would turn off the tv when the lesbian episodes of Friends were on (while I ran to the tv in my room and pressed “mute” to see it). One that would roll their eyes at the idea of gay marriage. Parents that meant well and just went by what they were taught, wanting us to grow up with something to believe. I remember sobbing in high school, thinking they would absolutely kill me. Things slowly started changing when I was 16+.
My Mom was the one who asked if I was gay. She was my biggest supporter, my secret keeper, and the one I told everything to. My Dad? He went from not wanting me to come out, to protect me, to telling everyone he knows if they ask if I’m “dating any new guys” - because that’s simply who I am. In his words “why hide it? Who cares?”. My Mom came to me about Carol on her own, wanting to watch it to see the love story. When gay marriage was legalized, I called my Mom sobbing. She was sobbing with me, after yelling “YES! THANK GOD” in front of all of her friends.
After being raised to hate who I was, not even allowing it to be an option - to now, my Mother texting me just now saying “Do you have any more Human Rights Campaign stickers like you have on your car? I want one on mine”
Change is a beautiful thing. Believe in it and believe in people.
THAT’S parenting.
My Mom has this link saved and randomly goes to it to see the comments because it “makes her heart full to feel like she did well and also ache for those who didn’t have the same” - we are open to adopting ya! You’re our family now.
