From Laughlin to L.A. to the Castro: one student’s story on coming out

From Laughlin to L.A. to the Castro: one student’s story on
coming out

Ryan Leaderman

After finally coming out to most of my friends last spring,
which was not nearly as difficult a process as I had originally
feared, I knew that I could not keep my parents in the dark much
longer. Not only did I feel awful that I was holding back
information that defined and permeated my existence, I also felt
that it would be much better for me to directly tell my parents
exactly who I am, rather than having them find out through a
second-hand source.

With this in mind, I went on a little road trip with my mother
last Memorial Day weekend in Laughlin, Nev. At first I did not
think that I could muster up the courage to tell her about my
sexual identity on our mini-vacation. After long thought and
countless hours of brooding as I wandered around the casino, I
decided that I would tell her. I felt that if I ended up not
telling her on this trip, I would endlessly delay and avoid telling
her about me. My silence would further drive a wedge in our
relationship, whereby I would continue to withhold other
information about my life, such as what I was doing and who I was
hanging around with.

In my mind, I had looked at the costs of the possible outcomes
of coming out to my mother, and rationalized that no matter what,
everything would be all right. My mom’s various options of reacting
to my homosexuality ranged from complete disinheritance, to
vehement condemnation, to indifference, to grudging acceptance and
to complete and total love in whatever I did. If my mother picked
the option most critical of my sexuality, I still felt that I had
nothing to lose on this trip. You see, my mother is disabled (she
has multiple sclerosis) and on this trip I was doing the driving
and taking care of her. I told myself that if she has a problem
with who I am, then that is her problem because I know that I would
still be the same good son (at least I like to think that I am)
whether I am gay or straight. In addition, I also thought that if
she abhorred the fact that her darling son is gay, I envisioned
going back home alone, leaving her to ride her wheelchair the 300
miles back to Los Angeles.

Perhaps this was some cruel anti-Oedipal fantasy of mine, but,
fortunately, I did not have to put my plan into action. At
breakfast on the day we were leaving, I came out to my mother. She
told me that she was "completely shocked and had no idea" (which
made me question whether my acting skills were so great or whether
she was a tad bit dense). I then proceeded to tell her about my gay
life and answered many of her questions, such as "Does that mean
you are the man or the woman in the relationship?" (Like many of
us, she has not been able to elevate herself from conceptualizing
in gender-specific roles.) and "Will you change your mind someday?"
(Sorry mom, that’s about as good of a chance as UCLA going to the
Rose Bowl this year).

For the past few months I think that my mother has taken my new
identity well. In fact, late in summer I took her on a little trip
to San Francisco, where I took her to the Castro, the gay area up
North. When my friend Peter asked her what she thought of it, she
replied "It’s something else!" Peter remarked that if it was his
mother, she would not have even tolerated being in the Castro, let
alone walk around with all the gays and lesbians strolling all
around the area.

Fortunately, my mother has dealt fairly well with my coming out.
Unfortunately, the fear of being rejected by the people I love kept
me in the closet longer. Hopefully, as society changes and becomes
more tolerant and compassionate, more people will have a coming out
experience like mine and not be threatened by the homophobia that
drives them further in the closet.

Ryan Leaderman, a political science student, is a third-year
senior.