My Life, My Dad, and the Theory

A couple days ago, I learned the theory of Cognitive Dissonance through a dry and dense Communication Theory textbook. The theory states that when we experience the world, we often want to be consistent in what we believe we are, and what we actually do. Although the theory itself was thought-provoking, what really fascinated me was how we grapple with adverse situations of doing things we don’t always expect ourselves to be doing.

I never expected myself to be at the forefront of such an awesome and progressive movement. In fact, I was always known to be the student of silence, taking a seat in the back corner of every classroom with my fellow classmates constantly forgetting that I even existed. I was a rule-stickler: I never chewed gum in classrooms, attended church every Sunday, and always removed my shoes before walking inside my house to greet my devoutly Catholic and conservative Asian family. One of the many steadfast beliefs my family held, which I truly believe was engrained in my head in my embryo stages, and further emphasized by a friend in elementary school, was the fact that “God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”

So, imagine to my surprise, one bright, chirpy morning at the park, when my dad pronounced his love to another…man to me. “I’m different,” he simply explained, and I, biting my lower lip in frazzled confusion, exclaimed with the utmost bemusement, “you’re different?” I glanced at his friendly face, a now distorted image through my tears. Have my ten glorious years of learning the importance of the traditional family, of the undivided attention of the Lord, of the danger zone of gum-chewing in classrooms, and of important maturation been for naught? The following Monday morning, I cautiously went to school, with a fragile mind filled with shattered pieces of my beliefs I couldn’t seem to put together anymore.

I found myself at an unfamiliar crossroad; one that nobody else I knew had experienced. It was not until a few days after that I did the unthinkable: I defied the beliefs I have always been taught, and I believed in him. Without much knowledge of how much his sexual orientation would have for our family, but with confidence that somehow things will work out anyway, I loved him and trusted him just the same.

According to the theory, moments like this cause an uproar in a person’s mind, like a violin string intentionally tuned a bit too sharply, causing cacophony in an otherwise synchronized orchestra — and for me, it did. But what I didn’t know then I sure know now: that this seemingly off-putting note was the start of a much lovelier symphony. My father’s unprecedented reveal in my life opened a whole new path that I never knew even existed. Following Frost, I took the road less taken, a path that allowed me to open my mind to differences and to redefine what it meant to have a family.

According to the theory, we cope with the discomfort of our behaviors that don’t agree with our attitudes by alleviating that inconsistency. Through my research in trying to validate my feelings of trust and respect for my father, I found COLAGE. Upon discovering that nobody was coordinating the Los Angeles Chapter, I readily took the position. Co-coordinating the Los Angeles chapter of COLAGE in high school was such an inspiring and rewarding position. Although the initial goal was justification and support, I learned so much more. I met inspiring families from different walks of life who have taught me to listen with an open heart, to ask with an open mind, and to express yourself with an open soul. I collaborated with visionary leaders from other organizations who have vitalized the LGBTQ movement, making it more emotionally personal and passionately energizing. COLAGE L.A. had become my safe haven and it meant everything to me. Although I relinquished the position my senior year, COLAGE has never left that special place in my heart. I work behind the scenes as a board fellow member and now, as a writer.

There are many things we do by tradition, some of it because of teachings from older generations, others because of superstition, but all because of what we believe in. (I’ve never stopped taking off my shoes every time I walk inside my home). But it’s okay if we sometimes question the very core of our being and the foundations that make us who we are. Dissonant thoughts are always just around the corner, but it’s what we do with them that make us stronger. We will always have the option to run away from them, pretending they don’t exist, and live in total oblivion. But another option is to take the leap by listening with an open heart and an open mind, learning that things don’t always have to end a certain way.

I sit attentively on a rather uncomfortable chair in my lecture hall, listening to my professor ramble on the assumptions of Cognitive Dissonance with an Altoid on the tip of my tongue, under classroom lights brighter than the sun.