Don't put words in my fucking mouth.
And you might try reading the article I posted from the Atlantic that was written by a gay man.
Right or wrong, it's harder for some families to accept. My experience was without any rancor or drama, but some have been disowned due to coming out as themselves. Having the family learn of it this way is terrible.
never actually said the words I am gay to my father. I know he knows but I never had a conversation with him over my being gay but I know he is for LGBT equality.
Maybe that will help explain my thoughts, because I haven't seen this aspect discussed here.
To Be Outed in the Worst Possible Way
A first-generation American who grew up in Orlando imagines a horrific phone call.
10:14 AM ET
Im a son of immigrants, and a gay man who grew up in Orlando in the 80s and 90s. My earliest visits to gay clubs in the city were clandestine operations, and let me tell you, it is difficult to be undercover-gay while dressing appropriately for a night out with the boys. On a trip to Parliament House or the gay night at Firestone, Id be petrified that one of my friends from church or my Christian school might recognize me, and word would somehow filter back to my family. It seemed fortunate that the clubs I visited were, for the most part, cloistered away from the party district downtown where my straight friends might be dancing. Ive never been to Pulse, which opened years after I moved away from Orlando, but even at my most closeted moment, I might have risked dressing for the disco on that tucked-away corner of South Orange Ave.
My gay friends from that time and place in my life have similar storieswere children of immigrants, once closeted and fearful of how our families would react when they found out. I cant stop thinking about the possibility that someone like us was hurt or murdered at Pulse on Sunday morning, outed in the very worst way, in a phone call every family dreads. For some parents, such a call would be a double heartbreak.
have no idea whether it happened, but the mere potential that it might is wrenching. A New York Times story about the 49 people who died on Sunday tells the story of one young man whose parents in Mexico dont know about his boyfriend of roughly three years. He escaped the massacre, but his boyfriend did not.
I have many queer friends whose American roots are generations deep, but who struggled as much as my friends and I did to reveal themselves to their families. Yet Ive found this experience most common among those friends of mine who were also born to immigrants. This video captures it well:
liked dancing and she could dance there without a partner. In a lot of bigger towns the best club is often also the gay club so they have a mixed customer base. So just because someone had their name listed as being there does not mean anything at all to anyone except that they liked to have fun.
The girls knew I was straight, the guys didn't care one way or another and I could dance with anyone there. If I had to guess, I'd bet that 25% of the patrons were straight.
Very mixed. I guess the family could assume if they want to, but it's not necessarily so.
I used to go to the gay bar around the corner with them on occasion, mainly because I liked to drink in those days, but also because they and their friends were fun to be around. One of the guys was a bartender at the club. I was rather poor in those days, so he'd invite me to join him on weekend mornings, to help him clean the bar. He couldn't pay me, but I got to keep any loose change I found in the seats, and there were always frequent drinks while I worked.