(aside: this was printed as an op-ed piece in the Bay Area Reporter. They chose the title and I liked it)

October 11th is National Coming Out Day, when gays and lesbians are encouraged to tell someone the truth.

Congressman Gerry Studds (D-MA), at the 12th International Convention of Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays(PFLAG), said "if at 12 o'clock tomorrow, every gay and lesbian person in this country stood up for 2 minutes - in the army, in the Navy, Marines and the Coast Guard, in the House, in the Senate - every doctor, every lawyer, every teacher, every carpenter, every clergyman, then this struggle would be over."

If you are ready to take the step and come out to your parents, PLEASE, PLEASE, BE CLEAR. Tell the truth about who you are. Tell it simply and honestly.

Parents are not stupid, but many of us don't get it. When it comes to interpreting hints, we lack the knowledge, the expectations, and the crystal ball to figure things out.

On the first Sunday of May 1985, my son asked me to meet him in Golden Gate park. He had something important to tell me. After he jogged eight miles around the Polo Field track and we ate our picnic lunch, he showed me his poetry journal. One writer to another.

Page after page was filled with phrases like "fuck the world," and "what does it matter." We sat quietly for a few moments before I asked if there was anything else.

"Yes," he said, lowering his head.

Then silence.

"Are you gay?" I asked him. (OK, so I lied! I did guess he was gay. But not because I had any concrete idea. My best friend was a gay man and my son was reflecting a similar attitude, a sense of separation.)

"You've known for awhile, right?" he asked me.

But I hadn't. How would I know? Because he liked to cook and clean house? Because he worked out at a gym? In retrospect, most of his friends were girls, but then this was also true of my straight son. Both were sensitive boys. Both are still sensitive men. Both hated competitive sports when they were growing up.

My son "came out" to my husband in a slightly different way. We had dinner one evening at Pier 39. My son asked to drive home. He took a route that veered cross town, through the Castro. "Now dad will surely know," he said.

At PFLAG meetings a young lesbian might say, "They have to know. I've never dated a male. If they don't know by now, they're beyond hope."

But we don't know. Call it heterosexism or homophobia. The truth is no one has ever told us. Not our pediatrician. Not our child's kindergarten teacher. Not Parent's Magazine. Not Dr. Spock.

My friend Philip phoned his mother one day, totally distraught. "The man I am living with is moving out," he said sobbing.

"You mean Jeff?" she asked. She was very understanding and supportive.

A week later Philip visited his mother in Florida. "Tell me," he asked over dinner, "Most of my friends have such a difficult time telling their parents. You took it so well. It seemed so easy for you. Why is that?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

The importance of coming out cannot be underestimated. It is a gift you can give to yourself - to your own integrity and self worth. It is a gift you can give to the world - to open eyes and create change.

Congressman Gerry Studds thought he was "coming out" when in 1979 he changed his jogging route to within one block of the March on Washington for Gay and Lesbian Rights. He was terrified that everyone would know.

Coming out can be frightening but it can also be empowering. It is a gift you can give to your parents - to open lines of communication and promote a loving family relationship.

So leave your "Intimacy With Men" book on the coffee table. Leave your message on the answering machine that says, "Ruth and Naomi are not home right now." And whether you choose October 11th to tell your mom and dad or some other day, tell it proudly and simply.

"Mom and Dad, I am gay."

Laura Siegel
Copyright 1993

May be reprinted in PFLAG chapter newsletters.
For permission to reprint in other publications,
contact Laura1107@mindspring.com