I never wanted to come out to my mom. In fact, that was something I thought I would take with me to the grave.
I was about 14 years old and my day had built up to the moment I woke up that morning, a cloud followed me. It foreshadowed a storm of words and emotions between myself, and my mother.
She was never mean to me, at least not purposely. A firm hand was always taught in my house. Respect and manners were of supreme rule and all the other weird Hispanic traditions only made it harder for even me to accept myself. I thought that the day I came out would be the day that the world ended.
She was the one who initiated the talk. Storming into my room she asked me with the palest face, “Anthony, are you gay?” Those words shattered my world. I didn’t know how to respond, the first thing that came to mind was that I wasn’t sure and that perhaps I’m only bisexual, like every gay man thinks at the beginning of his coming out.
She looked at me with tears streaming down her face. All of a sudden it wasn’t my mother looking at me, but a stranger I had never met before in my life. She disowned me for almost two months, forgetting her son, and reminding me every chance she got that I was an utter disappointment, a disgrace, and not the boy she had raised.
Following the coming out was a series of “treatments” at my therapist. After that, I was alone. I came home and banished myself to the four walls of my room where I stayed all day, cut off from the world.
It wasn’t until a couple weeks later when I received a phone call from my grandmother. She reminded me that my mother didn’t hate me; she just didn’t know how to deal with the situation. She hung up with one last thing to say, “Anthony, you are my family, you are my grandson, I do not care who you love, as long as you are happy.”
Afterwards, my aunt spoke to my mom. She reminded her that this way of life, that being gay, isn’t something you just wake up in the morning and decide to do. It is something you’re born into, and have no control over. She told my mother that maybe she should talk to me and help me instead of leaving me all alone in the world. That I was still the little boy she had raised.
After a couple days we tore down the silent barrier that contained us and spoke to each other. I reassured her that I was never hurt by another person, and that I was doing fine. It would take time to establish this foundation, but after talking more and more, my mother and I built a relationship that was unbreakable.
Now I talk to her about my crushes, my exes, and even problems I have with relationships. We are truly happy and even though coming out was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done so far in my life, I am glad I did it.
Because my mother and I have a wonderful relationship now and we wouldn’t have it any other way.