| This is the story of me, Davey Wavey, coming out of the closet to my mom. Add me on Facebook: www.facebook.com When I remember the most emotional moment of my life—January 29, 2001—it feels like yesterday. I can still smell my mother's hand lotion as I laid my head in her lap. Putting down her book and placing a hand on my chest, she could feel my racing heart—and knew that I had something to say. Coming out is an ongoing experience. It doesn't happen just once. It happens each day. I come out to the grocery clerk when I steal a kiss from my boyfriend while waiting in line. I come out to the strangers on the street when I hold his hand. I come out to the waitress when she asks if we're brothers. But coming out to mom is very different. If the clerk snickers, or if the strangers yell a slur, or if the waitress refuses to serve us, I can get on with my life. I can shrug it off, and hope that the world continues to get a little bit friendlier. But if things don't go well with mom, it's a much scarier reality. When I came out to my mom on that January night, I was very much aware of what that moment meant. And I was terrified. When you tell someone that you are gay, it's impossible to anticipate his or her reaction—especially if that someone means the world to you. When my mom asked what I needed to say, I couldn't find the words. As she held my head in her lap, I felt so vulnerable—like a young child. I knew that so much of my future was hanging on this moment, and that it ... |
