Black Boi, MD

The Sacrament of Reconciliation

The true issue lies with reconciling my gender expression with my cultural background, familial obligations (whether perceived or real) and professional aspirations. My mother’s almost fanatical belief in Christianity threatens to derail the relationship it has taken us years to construct. Coming out to her the first time (as gay) was difficult, but it wasn’t impossible. And though my sexuality isn’t anything we spend a great deal of time discussing, she never cast me out or disowned me because of it. She seems to be accepting of my girlfriends, more so with each successive year. I thank God for this even though she has made it perfectly clear that if I were to get married, she would not participate. Her toleration (trust me, this is a real word) ends way before that.

To have a completely different discussion about gender, however, would either leave her thinking I was crazy or…literally I have no idea. It’s so hard to imagine. Part of me thinks she wouldn’t take me seriously. She would just go about her day as though I said nothing at all or tell me that I was confused, that I wasn’t making any sense. She probably would always call me her daughter, would refuse anything different. Honestly, I don’t think I even have a problem with that, which doesn’t even surprise me. I am very accommodating, sometimes to my own detriment. Anyway, I decided yesterday that I would call her and we would discuss it. We talked…about something entirely different. I couldn’t find the words. I should have rehearsed a few talking points with M&M beforehand. I am usually so prepared, at times overprepared and yet when it comes to my mother, I often revert back to my childhood mentality. It’s almost like being in 7th grade again, still being forced to go to ask for penance. I’m afraid to let her see the mess, afraid of being 100% honest and only allowing myself only to confess part of the story. The fear of disappointing her usually outweighs just about everything else. To be continued…