KarMel Scholarship 2005

 

Best From Family of Gay Person

“Why I Love My 4 Parents”

By Courtney McDonald - SC

 

 

Desciption of Submission: “An account about my parent’s divorce and my mom’s homosexuality” - Courtney

 

Why Karen and Melody Liked It: We liked hearing the experience of finding out that one’s parents was gay.  It was interesting to hear about how one acceptance is during different period’s in one’s life.

 

 

 

            I remember the day in September of 1993 that my mom turned my world upside down. I would have seen the signs and seen the bomb coming that she was about to drop, except I had just turned five.

            A year before I had lived with my mom in an apartment separate from the home where my father and sister resided. A year later my mom moved back in. Then, my parents put our home up for sale. After buying a new home I went apartment hunting with my mother. I remember questioning what she was doing because we already had a house and she dismissed me. In September, the week of the eleventh my parents delivered heartbreaking news to my sister and myself. I remember it was the week of my birthday (my birthday is the eleventh). I was wearing a new pair of shoes that were a birthday present. I sat in my mom’s lap, my sister in my dad’s lap, and my parents explained to us they were getting a divorce. I remember only focusing on the bug crawling on my brand new pair of shoes. I can honestly say the divorce wasn’t a heartbreaker. I was completely unaware of the change that was about to take place and didn’t seem to care.  A few weeks after the “divorce talk” my sister and I rode with my mom to take my grandma to the grocery store. As we sat in the Bi-Lo parking lot in my mom’s blue nova she announced she had to tell us something. My mother then attempted to explain the concept of homosexuality to a seven year old and a five year old.  It was a special kind of anger I felt. The anger of ignorance is the worst anger.

            For the next ten years my mother would be the biggest skeleton in my  closet.

            Of course my mother couldn’t be just “gay.” She had to act on her feelings. Soon she brought a woman over for dinner. Several months later we moved in with this woman, and that has been my life for the past twelve and a half years.  Growing up I had all sorts of mixed feelings towards my mom and Lil (her partner). I felt anger and resentment towards Lil. I felt like my mom was a liar. I could not understand why she would get married and have kids and create the life I was stuck in if she was gay.  My mother’s answer to me was always that she couldn’t live a lie, and that she was only being fair to my father. She was right, my father deserved to be with someone who wanted to be with him. I became angry with my  mother for simply ever seeing my dad and creating me.  I could accept the homosexuality, but I couldn’t accept what it entailed. My friends couldn’t come over; no one could know why my parents weren’t together. No one at school could find out because homosexuality isn’t a subject everyone is warm to.  Unfortunately because of my mother’s sexual identity I was looked down upon. I began to understand what living a lie was like.

            My pent up anger and sadness began to affect me and my family as well when I ten.  My mother had experienced problems with me before. Once she moved in with Lil I began to act out, stop eating and innecessantly crying. I was six and unaware of the reasoning behind the behaviors. When I was ten my parents took me to a therapist for various reasons. I hated it, convinced my parents I was okay, and that was the end. But when I was twelve my sister entered high school.  She gained a new confidence and decided there was no reason that she should lie to her friends about her mother. Older people began coming over to my home that knew of my mom and Lil and didn’t care.  I was so jealous of the freedom my sister seemed to experience through telling her friends. My friends were close minded and snotty. I could never tell them. Seeing my sister did give me the confidence to take some steps towards acceptance of the life I lived with my mother.  I began speaking from my heart. I was tired of pretending to hate gays and being narrow-minded. Soon I was the girl who would reprimand anyone who made a derogatory term torwards homosexuals. Soon I had gay friends of my own.

As I entered high school I realized I didn’t have it together like I thought.  I still never told anyone my mother was gay. The words “my mom is gay” had never exited my lips. For some strange reason I was fine with homosexuals. The whole world could be gay, just not my mom.  It was time for me to release the skeleton from my closet that didn’t belong to me. I couldn’t avoid my reality. I needed to embrace it. So I told those close to me about my mother. I told them she was gay and had a partner and that in addition to my dad and stepmom, they too were my parents. My life suddenly felt free. I had nothing to be afraid of. I had lifted a one hundred and thirty-five pound weight off my shoulders.

Since those liberating days I’ve begun to appreciate what having a gay mother has brought to me. I have a street education so many don’t experience. I’ve been exposed to a different lifestyle that I can embrace despite its difference to my own. I’ve been raised by three women and one man. I’ve learned that being gay is nothing. I love my mother for every reason other than her sexuality. I love my father for every reason other than his sexuality. If the reason we love people has nothing to do with their sexual preference, than we shouldn’t hate people for their sexual preference.

Within the last year the issue of gay marriage has risen and I’m able to understand it from all aspects of the issue and I’m a heterosexual seventeen year old girl! Love is love. Marriage is a right just like voting. If two people have a love intense enough that they want to tie it through the bonds of marriage I support it fully! Being able to witness the love between a man and a woman (my father and his wife) and a woman and a woman while growing up educated me beyond belief. I can see no difference between either set of my parents. My dad and stepmother are no different or worse than my mom and Lil.  I’ve reached a great place without anger towards my mother or Lil. I love them both and appreciate the diversity they’ve brought me. I have four parents and I don’t care if the whole world knows. I’m a better person for having a mother who is a lesbian.

 

 

 

 

 

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