Coming Out to Neighborhood Children

"Are you two sisters?" seven-year-old J. asked on the drive home from a sun-baked afternoon at the public pool. This outing was Emily's and my birthday gift to J.  We took two of his siblings with us and all three were packed in the back seat.

"No," I said.

"Friends?" he asked.

"We're best friends," I answered.  "And our relationship is more than that.  It's kind of like your Mom and Dad's."

No more questions on that topic.  The conversation moved on in another direction, including where we were taking them for ice cream.

I've known this family for five years. We met because we lived in the same neighborhood.  When I met them I was not in a relationship.  About a year later, the kids and their family moved to another neighborhood in the same town.  My relationship with them has deepened over the years despite the move.

When Emily and I started dating three years ago, I introduced her just as Emily to the kids and their family. I like to come out as it comes up in conversation and having a partner seems to prompt that conversation.  I have had many opportunities to come out to the children before yesterday's car conversation and I was afraid to do so and I know why.  I was afraid of losing our relationship due to the perverted stereotypes about gay people and children that are in my own head and probably the heads of most everyone else.  Would I been seen for who I am and not some gross stereotpye?  Would the kids still be able to sleep over? 

The coming out with J's parents happened less than two weeks ago and it was their mother who let me know she and their father knew.  Emily and I never told anyone in their family with words.  "Never told anyone" sounds like an infraction or crime has occurred.  Ugh!  And still,  these words accurately capture the stress and internalized shame that many lgbt people, including activists like me, experience.

We were over one night and I asked J's Mom if I could cast the 10-year-old for a public service announcement I was making for gay and bisexual men to encourage them to call a smoking quit line.  I needed a kid to play the child of a two-dad family.  [The finished spot is embedded below with the child of a different friend]


Smoking Quitline PSA for Gay and Bisexual Men from Illinois Public Media on Vimeo.


In front of Mom and the kids at their home, I described what the public service announcement would involve.  The 10-year-old said yes and so did the Mom and she wanted to consult with the father before committing. When I called a few days later, their Mom told me that their dad was uncomfortable with it.  He didn't want his son to be part of a narrative that wasn't true and he didn't want his son to be teased should someone see the spot.

This led to a very long and wonderful, albeit painful at times, conversation with the kids' mother on the phone.  In that conversation, she talked about how Emily and I are the only couple "that's like that" that the kids know.  And with that sentence, we were out.  Finally.  Thank you, Mom.

I believe that honesty has its own rhythm and timing as we change and grow and become more aware and willing to share our true selves with those we love.

Now that I knew the parents knew, I felt comfortable answering J's questions with full honesty in the car after the pool outing.  I believe there will be other conversations like this one as our relationship continues to grow with the children and their parents. I believe these conversations may also involve some anxiety and stress.

Perhaps a generation from now, who one loves will matter less than how one loves and shame from internalized homophobia will be less present in our lives.