The last several years I talked to Dad about making my thoughts public. I did so because I’d lived decades sensitive to his situation; intimate with the stigma he carried. He quoted Shakespeare saying, “It’s much ado about nothing.’’ After a lifetime of turmoil, staying tight lipped about his early homosexual relationships, in his mind, when it came to the subject of being gay, he finally felt people were getting up in arms about more than they should. Reality was, crossing over into his 70’s Dad had become reflective, sharing more than ever. Now a-days, what it meant to be gay (in many cases) had improved. Notably things were changing for the better. He knew this was true. People were more liberal, more tolerant.
Yet he and I are from an earlier era where few spoke about being gay, where even less understood it. From his teen years to the end of his life he had trouble balancing his world with everyone else’s. After much reflection, I decided it’s probably the reason he was often so distant, so private. For so long I related to his angst and often followed in his footsteps.
This blog has been developed to serve as an intimate sharing of my closeted life, laying out details and truths from a daughter’s point of view. What it was like to harbor a father’s gay identity as I have for the majority of my life. It is also for all who yearn for an outlet as they have found themselves in a similar position regarding gay family members. My Dad passed away last March, quite suddenly. That said, I do this partly in the name of my father. I know he is overseeing me, and this project.
This blog will serve as a vehicle to advocate for and encourage kids of gays, family members, loved ones and friends, giving opportunity for voice. A place to participate on a platform that starts here. Dad would be proud I was doing what I could to help the ever-growing diverse gay community that desperately needs every bit of support it can get. I have learned change comes forth when people step out of the shadows and into the light. When people start speaking up and sharing. And so, here is the beginning of what is to come.
For as long as I remember Dad called me his Dolly. During a staged interview with him a couple years ago he shared one of the few stories of my parents together that included me. In 1964, while pregnant with me, they attended the Broadway production of Hello Dolly, near their home in San Francisco. In May of ’65, I entered my family and forever owned the pet name Dolly. Within a year my parents left California, returning to their hometown of Davenport, Iowa, where they met in the towns Catholic high school. Things quickly turned from bad to worse and they divorced around the time I was two years old. Both in their early 20’s, they grew a family of three children in the span of 4 years. Because of their age and the time, I believe they didn’t have the faintest idea how to handle Dad’s taboo sexuality. As years passed, without anyone supporting or encouraging my parents to formally share our family secret, it began to unfold for me while on the cusp of my adolescent years. From that point forward the complexity only compounded and became more confusing. Particularly as I entered adulthood in the early nineties, when the dark spotlight shone heavily on the HIV/AIDS epidemic.
In 2010, married with two pre-adolescent children of my own, I embarked on my writing journey. Mapping harbored experiences, good bad and indifferent, how I felt about having a gay father. Throughout my life Dad had been this wonderful, crazy, zany, fun dad, yet it puzzled me that actual time spent together was few and far between. To that end, as often as I saw a wonderful caring, loving side of Dad I also witnessed him diving into hypnotic melancholy. Oftentimes he would be the life of a party yet he’d kept himself in isolated communities. I now understand he was desperate to build community.
Reflecting on decades of my life I realize I had also limited myself. I recognized in all my years I dodged questions about him, only shared his identity with a trustworthy, non-judgmental, cherry picked few. Truth be told, I needed a coming out of sorts for myself and for my children. I needed to stop the cycle and come clean. Lift the veil of shame and secrecy, stop from passing this unhealthy closeted behavior on to another generation. For so long I felt alone in my situation, I too needed to find support.
Spending a lifetime sensitive to our family situation, and Dad’s position, ‘his sexuality wasn’t anyone’s business;’ I nervously looked for his approval. “Dad, can I write about this?” I asked. To my surprise, he ironically answered, “Of course, honey. You know I have nothing to hide.”
Maybe times were indeed changing.
The entries to follow are snapshots of recent and past experiences that will surely come in many forms. They will explore painstaking, triumphant, joyful, and questioning times. One such topic, Dads religion, he had longstanding faith that was unwavering. He wanted his children and grandchildren to believe in his religion, quoting to me in my high school years, “always remember, at the very least, you must honor thy mother and honor thy father.” Sound advice for sure. As an adult, I have found it difficult to stand by a church that makes this claim with conditions. I will certainly dig deeper into this subject later.
For now I start by honoring Dad as a gay man the best way I can. Sharing painful truths in hopes of making positive changes to future lives.
Today much has changed to improve gay rights. In my heart of hearts I know it’s only a fraction of where it can go. My intension is to help others who have similarly questioned their home life and close relationships. For everyone has a mom, dad, brother, sister, son, daughter, aunt, uncle, cousin, even grandpa or grandma who may be affected by gay intolerance, discrimination or feeling alone. At the end of the day, in our heart of hearts we all want to honor the ones we love, just as they would want to be.
