KarMel Scholarship 2004

Best From Family/Friend of Gay Person

“My Mom is Gay”

By Sophie Fuilfoyle, TX

Desciption of Submission: “A work expressing my sentiments towards my Mom’s sexuality.” –Sophie

Why Karen and Melody Liked It:  It was a nice personal story describing Sophie’s relationship with her mom, and how she dealt with her mom being gay.

My Mom is gay. She has been ever since she decided she was, maybe before. I don’t know if my Dad saw it coming, but I did. I was seven and my Dad was a geologist who worked in El Salvador for three weeks out of the month. I knew. I don’t know if I was supposed to know or not, but I knew long before Dad told me. He sat me down on the back porch in Denver one day and told me. They were getting a divorce, she was seeing a woman. I was only seven but I already knew. I was scared that he was going to cry. When you’re young, and I imagine even when you’re old, it’s scary when your parents cry.

Before I was old enough to understand how my Mom felt, I didn’t like it. To me her partner was a home wrecker, and when you think you’re living with a home wrecker it’s hard for everyone to get along. My Dad was very bitter about the whole affair, and me, being young and impressionable, believed him when he said Laurie had ruined our family. I would come back from visiting him with a refreshed resentment towards my Mom and Laurie. But I could never believe my Mom was a bad person, in fact, now I think she’s the best Mom I could ever have hoped for. Besides, my Dad’s on his third marriage and has other children to worry about.

I was made fun of, ostricized; I couldn’t have any friends with bible thumping Baptist parents. On top of all that, we were poor. To add to that, we’re from England. Until I was eleven I had a smashing British accent which was a topic of great interest and occasionally ridicule. My Mom pretty much raised me on her own while working, studying and paying international student fees.

So, in the midsts of all of these indiscrepancies in our nuclear family, I attempted to grow up to be a normal, soccer playing, unicorn-loving, young adolescent. It became apparent when I was about ten that this was not the path my persona was taking. I had completely and totally come to terms with the fact that my mother was gay. I refused to believe other people’s impressions of her based on her sexuality-that she had ruined our family or that she was going to hell. In fact, after it dawned on me that my Mom was only trying to be happy, and that these people, these judgmental people, were trying to take that away from her, I fought back. By the time I was twelve I had lost my accent, I didn’t like republicans, and I stood up for my mom and who she was. If I had a friend that didn’t like it, that was one less friend to worry about.

When I got older, about fourteen, I talked to my Mom about why she did what she did; why she left Dad for Laurie. She said it was the first time she had really felt loved, and the fact that it was a woman didn’t make a difference. I knew what my Mom meant, I don’t know if my Dad has the capacity to make anyone feel loved, but I know my Mom does.

My Mom is gay, and I love her for it. It made us both stronger. Her loving personality has been the greatest sanctuary growing up, because being a teenager, as you may know, sucks.

As I write this, I think of the James McBride book, The Color of Water. It’s a black mans tribute to his white mother. I wish that I could express my mothers struggle as a single, gay student raising a teenage girl. I wish I could express my gratitude and love for her the way McBride did. I want to tell her, and everyone else, that I’m glad she followed her heart and did what made her happy, because she made me happy in the process.

Most people can’t say they feel they are a better person because of their parents sexuality. I can. My Mom has given me a unique perspective on life, and has taught not to judge people, because no one ever benefits from it.

My Mom is gay, and I know that having her for a mother has made me a better person.

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