Coming out to Homophobic Parents.
My coming out to my homophobic father.
I was born in February. I'm a Pisces! I had a father and A little brother, both of whom are now dead which means I live with my uncle. I love biology - probably because of that. I love human biology, studying cells and veins and arteries and organs.
I just turned sixteen. I like the occult and anime (Kuroshitsuji and Soul Eater are my favourite!) and well, I'm gay. But I'm homoromantic. That means I'm gay but I don't have sex with men or anyone else really. I'm an ex-heroin addict. I really like cats. I love writing.
I think that's all there is to say about me.
My dad was a single parent. A crappy one, but I loved him. My coming out story is actually in two parts. The first, I came out to him on a whim. We shared a bedroom - not a bed, calm down - because we lived in a one-bedrooom house. I was eleven. We were both in our beds watching something on the telly. He was high at the time.
I kind of had been quiet all night, wanting to tell him something. I didn't know how he'd react and I was scared. He had demonstated to me before how he felt about it. He had used racist comments, homophobia slurs and shit all the time. So I was averse to bring blunt. But I decided to go for it and accept whatever consequences were coming my way.
"Dad...I think I like men,"
Everything was silent. Really silent. The telly still blared. I waited a few minutes, kept waiting and waiting before I asked.
"Dad...is everything okay?"
He said, in his slurring voice, fighting to keep awake on drugs. "I just can't believe my son is a weirdo," and fell asleep. I never slept all that night. The next morning he woke up, picked a few times and didn't even remember what we had talked about. He had totally forgotten that I came out.
The second time was when I was twelve. Just turned it, in fact. Me and dad had a cider bottle each and I said. "Hey, I want to tell you something,"
"Oh?" He asked, a little tipsy but still sober enough to comprehend what was going on.
"Dad...I'm gay. I like men. I have a boyfriend,"
A low laugh and a "it's kind of fucking obvious Mickey,"
And I cried and hugged him. He died later that night due to conorary artery thrombosis. So I guess my coming out didn't really mean anything. I never really got the whole aftermath of it.
This post was submitted as part of 'My LGBT Story’ campaign. Take a peek at our other submissions and get involved by creating your own content!
No featured article