Sometimes Surprised
Nearly four years ago, I discovered a part of myself that had been hidden away. I discovered my sexuality and my love for the same sex.
The town I grew up in, a small town in upstate New York with a population of 2,400 people on a good day, that was all too uncommon. As a child, I saw people in the community being ridiculed and shunned. I saw people look at them differently, with a look of disdain and almost pity. I saw them leave and never come back.
I told my mother one day in October 2011 that I was bisexual. Of course, with the fluidity of sexuality, I later began to identify as a lesbian — a label I’m much more comfortable with now.
A month later, coming home for Thanksgiving break, I vividly remember a conversation with my parents. A conversation that was centered around a fictional gay male couple that had come into the public eye.
“I just don’t want to see that on my television. I don’t think that’s entertainment.”
I was hurt. I was quiet for the rest of the car ride home — approximately twenty minutes. (If you knew me at the time, you would know that twenty minutes of silence from me was probably the most peculiar thing you could see.)
We got home and my father, being ill, headed to bed. But I just couldn’t let it go. I pulled my mother aside and had to talk to her, mentioning how hurt I was.
“But what if he won’t love me anymore?”
This was always my biggest concern. It was always a matter of worrying; would he still love me? Would he disown me like so many members of the LGBT community have been?
My father and I, while having our occasional struggles, have always been close. I was always my father’s daughter; he and I always had the same traits — the stubborn streak and love of Jack Daniel’s are two of the biggest. The latter will be one of my favorites until the end of time.
I had my first serious same-sex relationship in spring of 2012. He met her one day, while moving me out of my dorm and helping me prep to stay with her for Commencement weekend.
The preparation for that meeting was intense; it was a lot of warning her that we couldn’t be “lovey-dovey” and preparing myself for the potential question: “So why are you staying with her?” (That question, quite thankfully, never came.)
But, a couple weeks ago, I got some encouraging news.
My mother told me a story that my father told her. He had had a conversation with his boss that day about his girlfriend’s son and how he was also a member of the LGBT community. The son’s father was not accepting of his sexuality; but my father was saying that he was accepting of mine.
I had not mentioned any semblance of my sexuality to him; I was so surprised to hear all of this. I made so sure to use gender-neutral pronouns when talking about significant others. I made so sure to not bring up any prospective relationships. I even made sure not to bring up past relationships — even knowing how much they had mattered at certain points in my life.
But somehow, he knew.
Maybe it was just because he’s my dad.
Sometimes people will surprise you in ways you don’t expect. And this surprise, definitely unexpected, is one of the most pleasant I’ve ever experienced.
