I was 13, lounging on my dad's green sofa, phone to my ear. My friend was on the other line, and we were watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
"ooooh, Angel is so hot." she moaned. "Don't you think he's hot?"
"Yeah, he's definitely hot." I agreed. But I was thinking, How can you look at Angel when Willow is on the same screen? Look at her smile, her eyes, her long red hair... she is perfect. But I didn't say anything, as I was pretty sure that she'd find my thoughts discomfiting at best.
Grade nine came, and I was starting to wonder if I was gay. I was also a burgeoning social activist, so I talked a friend of mine into attending the local Gay Pride Parade with me near the end of that year. At the parade, photographs were taken.
I spoke with my favorite grandmother that night on msn. I told her I'd been to the gay pride parade that day, as an ally to my friends. She responded by saying that I would go to hell if I was friends with "those people".
Later, when my picture turned up in the paper, the whole school became awkward around me until I assured them that I was just an ally, not really one of "them". I knew by then, I could never admit to being one of "those people" because if I was, then what would my grandmother do? What would my classmates do?
I heard a story from my brother that year, about a guy who came out to his parents. I had always been impressed with this particular young man's family, with how close knit and loving they appeared. The night he came out to his parents, however, they told him that they didn't know him and that they didn't have a son anymore. They told him that they didn't love him, and threw him out of the house.
Grade 10 came, and I made friends with a young man who was very much out of the closet. He is one of the most wonderful people I have ever known, and also one of the bravest. I know he was harassed at school, the other kids could be so cruel towards him, it was unreal.
I don't think I ever made a conscious decision to stay closeted. At least, I wasn't aware of making the decision. I was pretty willing to appear to be the most liberal chick out there. But I never wanted anyone to think that *I* was gay.
I pretended to be interested when my girlfriends sent me nude or near-nude pictures of male actors. I never admitted that I was jealous when two of my friends started dating, never admitted that my hopes went soaring when they broke up later and she suggested that she might be bisexual.
But I did know that I could not be homosexual. I mean, I was as much a lesbian then as I am now - so very much one - but look at what it would cost me! What it could cost me. I could drop even lower on the high school social totem pole. I could lose the love of my family. Most importantly I knew that my grandmother would not accept or love me anymore.
It is all so much more complex than what I am describing. But these things were a huge part of my decision, later, to embrace a Church that promised to change me, to heal me of my gayness. To make me straight. I would have traded all the blood in my veins if I could just be straight. To trade my integrity, my peace, when I was so unhappy - it was easy.
Here, take my integrity. I don't need to be honest. I just need to be straight. I'm already unloveable enough, my own mother stopped loving me (another story for a later post) - I don't need another strike against me. Being a lesbian would definitely equal that strike.
My grandmother is coming to visit, all the way from the UK, for this Easter. I just found out today, she'll be here early next week. She's frail, elderly, and still one of the most important people to my mind. I love her. She taught me how to pray.
I wonder if I'll find the courage to tell her, how her words when I was 13 hurt me. I wonder if I need to tell her. I wonder if I should tell her that I'm one of "those people", that I have never been physically attracted towards a man but that I have very vivid dreams and fantasies about other women all the time, no matter how hard I try not to. I wonder if she would even remember what she typed to me in that msn conversation all those years ago. I wonder if she would forgive me for being a lesbian, or if the stress of finding out would give her a stroke or heart attack.
How can I tell her? How can I not? I don't know what I'll do.
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