Though I dressed dolls on the playground, I didn't acknowledge being gay until I was 13…read more Self-awareness is not something fifth graders are known for. Later, in high school, I didn't have the courage to announce my newest discovery to my schoolmates -- let alone my parents -- since I attended a Christian school.
Not that keeping the secret protected me from calumny. Who did I think I was fooling, really? I suffered through years of self-repression and verbal abuse from my classmates. "Darin the fag." And some particularly creative insults, too. I'm especially fond of the time when my head was held in a flushing toilet in order to clean my "fucking cumrag face."
When the time came to apply to colleges and universities, I only applied to those on the east coast. My supposed rationale was to "get off the rock," but it was also to escape the homophobia found in some parts of Hawai'i.
I had a plan to tell my parents. I even wrote out a "script." The night before my flight to New York for the first day of school, I would drop the bomb. I really thought they'd kick me out (well, FUCK YOU GUYS, I'm outta here ANYWAY!).
On August 2, 18 and unsure, I walked into their bedroom. As usual, they were watching tv: my Dad on the bed in his chonies and a t-shirt, my Mom in her office chair.
Dad: Son, are you all packed?
Me: Yes. Uh. I need to talk to you about something.
Mom: Okay. What is it?
Me: ...can you turn off the TV Dad?
Dad: Sure [clicks tv off] What is it?
Me: ...I....I'm....
It was at this point that I totally lost the script and started to cry. Uncontrollably. I collapsed into a heap on the carpet. The pressure was immense. I realized: the family line stopped with me. I WAS a failure.** I didn't fit into the box tradition reserved for the child in a largely Japanese family: I was a lit lover, writer, art enthusiast, speaker of Western European languages...and, now, GAY.
In typically stoic Japanese fashion, both my parents looked quizzically at their eldest child and only son as he bawled for the next twenty minutes. No questions. No consolation. No finger lifted to wipe away the tears.
I finally summoned enough strength to enunciate the following:
Me: I...I...am..gay.
And what was the response?
Mom: Oh jesus fucking christ thank god! We thought you KILLED someone!!
It wasn't all smooth sailing, of course.
Six months later my Mom and I got in a physical fight after she called me names and ridiculed me incessantly in the car. Hair was pulled, punches were thrown, throats were grabbed. But time has been gentle, has been salvific: they no longer ask about mystery "girlfriends" and have come to terms with my fabulousness.
I'm telling you this story not because I want to demonstrate the nobility of my parents -- they don't need a fucking story for that -- or how lucky I am to have the parents I do, but because I want to show that there are bumps and rough patches in even the most fortuitous coming out sagas. That hate and homophobia exist in even the most "tolerant" environments.
Perhaps we're all deluded by the smug back-slaps and the knowledge that we all share "liberal credentials" in San Francisco, but the reality is that gay kids here suffer in schools and at home. Hate crimes are still committed in the streets and in our schools. One, in fact, may have just been committed on a friend of a friend: he may have been the victim of a beating at the hands of homophobes.
All of which is to say: LYRIC is necessary and plays a vital support role for kids who are encountering either themselves for the first time or hatred from other people. LYRIC offers a bunch of programs for youth 24 and under: a talk line, drop in after-school meetings, arts workshops, counseling, a health clinic for queer youth, a leadership program, a homeless shelter for queer youth, employment counseling, and more.
I volunteered for a year, and also took part in their leadership program. While the drama level was a bit high for my tastes (REALLY DARIN?!? Too much drama for YOU?!?), I also consider it to be one of the most fulfilling things I've ever done. I highly encourage you to participate and/or volunteer if you're 24 or under.
And since LYRIC is a non-profit which survives -- as they all do -- on the kindness and generosity of strangers, I also DEMAND that you Rich Bitches give them all your money NOW. After all, what else will you use that money for -- another drink?!?
...
...
Fucking lushes.
**I'm still a failure; I've just learned to celebrate it. It makes me a better person. Keeps me humble.
