The Mother of a Lesbian

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I don’t remember coming out to my mom, my mom had known about who I was before I did.  Or at least she knew that I was in love with my partner before I myself was aware of it.

 

Although, before she had me figured out, I don’t think it had ever occurred to her that the world is not just dull and straight, but wavy and colorful.

 

Yes, she might have seen the occasional gay person in a movie who is forever a fashion designer and talks in a squeaky voice, or maybe she would have recalled the girl-girl bonds in one of those Tong Dynasty soaps, but I don’t think she ever really thought about coming into such close contact with the gay community let alone raising a lesbian.

My mother is actually a very stubborn person.  At her piano lessons, she can insist that I had misinterpreted her own music when she was the one in fact confusing the upper score with the lower score.

Even with this kind of stubbornness, my mom still got over her life-long understanding of heterosexual relationships to agree that love transcends genders.  And so, I must thank my mother.

 

I must thank her for her tremendous openness in having my partner over for dinner, for running her bath when she slept over and for buying that extra bottle of hand cream for my partner when my mom goes shopping.

 

There have been difficult times of course, but I guess that’s a given when you come in contact with something outside of your knowledge.  It’s like that time you eat corn and later realize that it’s genetically modified with genes from spiders.

Some accept that the world is changing right under our noses without us noticing unless we look more closely, and then some haven’t quite gotten used to it and need a bit more time to let things sink in.

My mom was in the latter category and just needed some time to see that my partner and I are the same people we were before she figured we were lesbians.  But once she got used to the idea, I actually think she adapted to having a lesbian daughter quicker than even I myself came to terms with being gay.  So if someone as strong willed as my mom could change her mind about sexual orientation, I’m sure more mothers out there can do the same.

 

* Side-note! (I’m fine with eating genetically modified foods and agree with their higher efficiency methods such as including drought and pest resistant genes, I’m only concerned about the way companies control the market with their patented seeds.)

Cover image by Bing Tan under Flickr Creative Commons.

 

 

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