My father is a true patriot. He has always been larger than life; a hero, a warrior, a force to reckon with, my protector and… a republican. Yes, you read that right; my father is a republican.
So here we go…
When I was nine years old, I came to the realization that I am gay. There was never any doubt or second guessing my gut; I knew what I was and I knew I could never let anyone find out. This realization scared the shit out of me. You see, I grew up in a military family; complete with parades, tanks, dinners with the likes of Colin Powell and Jim Dozier. I lived in twelve different states and two countries, all before the age of 19; and I had a golden childhood. I had two parents that showed me love and supported my dreams, a brother that shared in my adventures, world travel, diverse cultural experiences and a belief that I could do and be anything I wanted. It was a truly golden childhood.
Fast forward to twenty-three and I finally, after years of holding onto my biggest secret, felt compelled to tell my family I am gay. At first, there was disbelief and concern that I was just experiencing a phase. Then there was confusion; confusion about how to parent me now that they knew I was gay. I had unknowingly created a crisis within my father by telling him I am exactly what he has been voting against his whole life. This is where things got tricky. I was no longer a child, and I was now acutely aware that the country of my origin did not support my rights and I would be forced, at some point, to fight to keep them. My father is a republican, and republicans don’t vote for marriage equality or equal rights for gays. They don’t support adoption rights for gays or the right for a woman to choose what happens to her body. The realization that my father didn’t believe that gays deserved the same rights as straight people broke me. He supported my brother’s right to marry. He believed his wife deserved his benefits if he died before her. He believed that laws were needed to govern how a woman manages her reproductive health. He believed all of these things, but still he loved me. How was this possible?
Fast forward to age 41; Obama is president. The most influential president of my life time; and the most divisive years of my relationship with my father. Roe v. Wade was upheld, employment rights for LGBTQIA people were written into law, equal marriage rights were established at the federal level. For me and my father, the Obama years were heavy with frustration. Talks about politics often ended in me asking why he believed my brother was more deserving of his civil liberties than I was, and he never had an answer for me. He just paused and said, ‘I love you’. In those moments, I felt like he was patronizing me and just dismissing my perspective. I never thought about the idea that my father might be struggling just like me. Not once in the almost 20 years since coming out to him did I think about his internal conflict, the one I helped create by telling him I am gay. I mean, up until the time I told him, he was not in conflict with his beliefs; now his beliefs were being challenged by my truth.
So now, here we are in 2020. COVID has rocked the world, RBG is dead and an election to save my country is on the horizon. Things are changing again and I am seeing a flex in my father that I haven’t seen in the past. He is starting to acknowledge that I have a family and a life that is unlike the one he had hoped for me, but just as valid as my brother’s in every way. He recognizes the desperation I feel about preserving my rights; both as a lesbian and a woman. More and more, the pause is longer before his response and the brow is a little less furrowed when we talk. I still visit my father each summer and I am reminded that we are very much on opposite ends of so many things. We still argue about politics, but he changes the subject a little less now and is starting to let me finish a sentence from time to time. This flex, however small it may seem, is everything to me.
People often ask me if my family is accepting of my choice to be a gay, and my answer is the same each time. First, it was never a choice to be gay; I am gay. Second, I don’t know if it is my family’s responsibility to accept who I am. We are connected by those bonds that families build over a lifetime, but each of us is different and living their own truth. For me, it isn’t about being accepted so much as it is about being recognized as my true self. They have not disowned me. They don’t forbid me to join in on holiday gatherings and special moments. I am their daughter, their sister, their aunt; and I will always have that place with them. It is hard to feel the distance between me and my father, and I have struggled for years to bridge that great expanse. Ultimately, he is my father and I love him and I am finding peace daily with how we exist in our relationship; that is MY flex.
So you might be wondering, has my father ever given me an answer to my question; is my brother more deserving of his civil liberties than I am? I have tried many times to talk to him about it, but he gets frustrated and I end up getting mad and eventually the conversation dies out. Then, breaking his pause, he says, “I love you. I’m so proud of the person you are and the things you have accomplished.”
And there’s the flex.
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