Unconditional - Telaina Eriksen

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their place in this welcoming community full of diversity.

      Do’s and Don’ts

      1) DO—make this more than one conversation. Even if you are feeling uncomfortable, you are the adult, and you need to be there for your child.

      2) DO—affirm with love. Even if you have never said or done a single homophobic thing in your life, there is still a part of your child that is worried you will think less of them. If you have made jokes about “the gays” even just in fun, your child might be worried whether you will still love them. Eliminate this fear. They are still that great kid that you’ve been parenting all along. Let them know that.

      3) DO—seek resources together. Go the library or order some books and movies online. Find age-appropriate materials and take turns reading them, or watch a documentary or movie together.

      4) DO—be human. You’re not perfect and neither is your kid. As long as you are making a real effort with love and respect, your child will see that, and that love and respect will get you through many a parental misstep. (And I’ve found that if you show your kid love and respect, a good 80 or 90 percent of the time, they will show that love and respect right back to you.)

      5) DO—keep an open mind. Depending on your life circumstances, a lot is being asked of you right now. If you’ve been raised in a strict Christian household and you believe every word of the Bible is word-for-word straight from God’s mouth, I’m asking you to think about if it is your job to judge your child. Can you just love your kid and let your child be responsible for their own faith and beliefs? They already know what you feel and believe. Trust in that.

      6) DO—talk about what age-appropriate expectations you have now. If your son is 15, has just come out as gay to you, and his friend Ryan has been spending hours up in his room with him or having sleepovers, you need to have a conversation. Maybe several conversations.

      7) DON’T—“Are you sure?” your child. I don’t know where we got this strange idea in America that something that is true one day will be true the next. As an example, I hated asparagus as a child. Hated it. We grew a bountiful supply in the backyard growing up, and I couldn’t stand it. Now asparagus is one of my favorite foods. I love it. Your daughter may tell you she is bisexual. She may end up with a man as a partner. She may end up with a woman. These are both “true” options and possibilities. Which leads me to…

      8) DON’T—judge, lecture, or assume. These can be some of our favorite things to do as parents. Listen. Ask for more information if you’re not sure. Don’t interrogate your child, but it’s fine to say things like, “I’m not sure quite what you mean. Tell me a little more.” Or, “Is there anything else you want or need to tell me?” and even, “Okay, how can I support you right now?”

      9) DON’T—scream, yell, or criticize their timing. If they are coming out at a certain time, it happened for a reason. Stay calm. Use all of your mad adulting skills. Remember, they are doing the best they can right now. Just like you.

      10) DON’T—take it personally. This isn’t about you. It’s about them. And it’s going to be okay.

      In Their Own Words

      Tara Morse (my sister), Colorado

      I was scared of my mother. My coming out was textbook how to do everything wrong. My mother, mentally ill and abusive, took it as an affirmation that she had in fact given birth to a distasteful monster, and she threatened to kill me and my girlfriend. She would appear at my softball games going to great lengths to say shitty stuff. “Your hair is so short I don’t want to look at you.” But sitting with rational people in the stands, they would think she was a caring parenting parent, cheering her manly daughter on. She liked the high of people applauding my great plays, and then after the game she would say, “gay slut” under her breath. A lot of it was what would people think of HER, that she gave birth to a freak? Parents’ biggest mistake is making it about them, their own shit and beliefs, and not really hearing or acknowledging the huge step their child has taken. There’s a moment there you can never get back. That moment is when acceptance and love is everything. Some parents can pull it off and some parents cannot. When coming out, some of the consequences could include being put out and disowned and even threatened with death (as I was). One of the pitchers on our softball team, only a sophomore in college, drove her Tercel into an oak tree after trying to come out to her parents, who were ministers.

      I never really had to tell most people I was gay. It’s obvious by my appearance. With no hips, large muscles, and short hair, an immediate (and correct) assumption is made. But never did I feel like I was a guy trapped in a woman’s body. I’ve always been happy being a lesbian. Now that I’m older, I realized that my “different” manly body has served me well despite having taken a beating.

      It was hard back in the 80s, living rurally, to find books and information. Thankfully there was a small bookstore in Ann Arbor; tucked away in the back behind every new age book on crystals was a shelf with sex manuals and Rita Mae Brown novels, Holly Near albums, and the comedy albums of Lea Delaria (sorry Orange is the New Black fans, she’s been around forever).

      Being okay with it personally and being free as a person is what coming out is about. Families can leave huge scars and do irreparable damage. Hopefully your family grows along with you. Your family accepting you goes a long way in your accepting yourself.

      Michael Whelan, Colorado

      I don’t really have a “coming out to my parents” story, because I was never really “in.” In kindergarten I joined the girls in chasing the boy I had a crush on, on the playground. I played with Barbies. I wanted to have long hair. My non-binary gender identity didn’t leave much room for speculation, nor did the fact that I didn’t try to hide it. I still didn’t understand that there was something “wrong” with me.

      From ages eight to fifteen my mother took me to see over a dozen therapists. But they always turned us away when they realized she just wanted them to change me.

      My parents made everything into an opportunity to change me. They took away my dolls so I started to hide them like the forbidden contraband they were. They buzzed my head, wouldn’t allow me to have hair longer than an inch until I was in my late teens. They always tried to pressure me into liking girls.

      “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

      “I saw the way you were looking at her, you should go ask her out.” I was nine.

      They wouldn’t let me have friends who were boys over, just girls. It became clear to me by the time I was fourteen that they were hoping for something to happen—like it would change me.

      I think a lot of parents would be horrified if their 14-year-old son got a girl pregnant, but not mine. They would have been relieved—like it was the goal the whole time.

      My mother went to a PFLAG meeting one time, but she never told me. I guess she was scared I would have thought she finally approved. I found out later, and it was whispered to me by someone else, like a dirty secret.

      My dad didn’t fully come around until I was in my thirties. My mom never will. Which is weird to me, because they knew who I was since I was a toddler. I never had to come out, because I was obvious and oblivious to it being something to be ashamed of. I’m grateful I never thought of being gay as something “wrong” because my parents would have only been too happy to set me “right.”

      When I was thirty years old my dad came out to visit me and my husband. It was the first time he had visited me—ever. He wanted to apologize and he did. I had already forgiven him years ago, for me, not for him. And now it was for him. He told me he didn’t know how to handle “my problems.”

      I’m not a parent, though I hope to be one day, but isn’t this parenting in a nutshell? Not having a clue. I think as long as you love and accept and try—you’re good. But my dad back then, he didn’t even try. And so many of my LGBTQ friends, their parents didn’t try. People would say things like, “Your

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