Father’s Day and Pride
Dad and I on his 50th birthday
Dad: Are you having a good time?
Me: Yeah, I’m okay.
Dad: Would you rather be somewhere else?
Me: I mean, I guess I would.
Dad: Would that someplace else be a gay place?
Me: (gulp)…Yes…
And just like that, I came out to my father.
It was the fall of 2007. I had just finished up my first year of grad school in Chicago and my dad had called me about a month before to let me know that he wanted to visit me and see how I was doing in the city. I was excited to see my dad but also very nervous about his visit.
After I left south Florida to pursue my master’s degree in Chicago, I officially came out to a number of close friends and reinvented myself in a new city as an out, proud gay man.
My life changed from closeted to extremely gay in a short amount of time. Most of my new friends were gay. I became a regular on the gay nightlife scene. I ate mostly at gay-owned restaurants. Because I was not out to my father yet, there was no way I could take him to any of these places or show him that side of my life.
I quickly “de-gayed” my apartment, hiding my pride parade beads, anything with a rainbow on it, gay-themed books, my firefighters calendar…everything even remotely gay literally had to go in my closet because there was nowhere else to hide it in my one-bedroom apartment.
For most of his stay I was fortunate that all I had to do was take my father to the usual tourist spots in Chicago: Michigan Ave, Millennium Park, Navy Pier, museums, etc. It wasn’t until Saturday evening that I had to figure out where I would take my father. I panicked at the thought of finding a straight place to take him to, mainly because in my year of living in the city I had never gone to a straight bar or even had an idea of where to go. Thankfully one of my coworkers worked part-time at a Rush Street jazz club and lounge called (ironically) The BackRoom. (For those not in the know, a backroom is a place in a gay bar where men could have sexual encounters. This is primarily a feature of older gay bars and another symptom of the closet.)
As dad and I sat down to listen to a three-piece jazz combo play through some standards, I tried to remain calm and avoid any discussion about dating, social life, or anything else that could steer down the path of being gay. I was always “too busy” and “focused on school” to worry about dating. My dad, being more intuitive than I gave him credit for, realized that something was up, and we finally exchanged those phrases above that opened up this posting.
I was prepared for my father to react poorly. Since I had grown up both Puerto Rican and Southern Baptist (and my father was a part-time minister) I was not expecting my father to tell me that he loved me, that he supported me, and that he was proud of the person that I had grown to become. And after that moment, I remember feeling like a huge burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. I no longer had to lie, hide, or put away my firefighters calendar. I could be myself.
My father’s affirmation of me has been such a blessing. He may not always understand the “gay thing” but he has been supportive. He asks me if I’m seeing any nice boys. He encourages me when I am feeling down. He tells me that he is proud of the man that I have become. And his pride in me helps me to be proud of myself as a gay man. This Father’s Day and this Pride Month, I remember this moment and am grateful and proud.
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Please join us at the Church of the Village during the entire month of June for LGBT Pride Month activities including small group Bible study, Sunday morning Pride testimonies, a Faithful Response Against Bias Crimes Service, dedication of the PFLAG plaque, and Pride Parade Witness.
