Have you ever had to tell your parents something, really, really important?
Something you don’t know how they might react to, but it scares the hell out of you to even think about?
Start with those dreaded words.
“Mum, Dad… I have something to tell you.”
We try to convince ourselves we’ll be commended for our bravery and honesty, not punished or ridiculed.
A quick, irreversible plunge into icy waters.
Just say it.
Take a deep breath before looking hopelessly up at them, not quite making eye contact, and mumble a truth you’ve held on to for so long. Pray they only react half as badly as you expected.
“Mum, Dad… I crashed your car”
“Mum, Dad… I broke your favourite vase”
“Mum, Dad… I’m failing maths”
Just say it.
“Mum, Dad… I’m in love with another girl.”
I had practised in front of the mirror maybe two hundred times before I’d even decided on a day to tell them. I’d run through every memory up until then, at fifteen and a half, overanalysed every feeling, every inkling just to make one hundred per cent sure. I’d listened to ‘All the Things she Said’ on repeat for weeks because it was the only song I felt like I could relate to any more. I pinpointed the exact moment in time when I knew. Marked an X on the timeline of my life. Right between ‘trip to Sydney’ and ‘the day I finally got over Twilight’, my defining moment.
The moment I realised I had been staring at her so long I had forgotten my dance steps. The moment I could recall the colour of her eyes and every item of clothing she was wearing without looking at her once. I barely even knew her, but she was so beautiful. The moment I knew my pounding heart and light-headedness were not symptoms of dehydration but of her. Her. A pronoun I never imaged I’d use in love letters. But somehow it didn’t surprise me all that much. I accepted the thought as quickly as it came.
Before too long I had my very first girlfriend.
She had white blonde hair and pale blue eyes. We held hands at our lockers and called each other ‘baby’. She wrote me love poems and warned me she would break my heart. I didn’t care. People laughed and wolf whistled as we passed. They started spreading rumours and whispering ‘dyke’ in the hallway. I still didn’t care. I was happy. I was young and in love. I’d sooner let the whole world know before my parents.
I stared at my parents apprehensively, sitting side by side on our royal blue couch for the first time in years. They almost looked like a couple. Not arguing, just sitting, and calmly awaiting my ‘big news’. My sister, Skye, sat to the right, eyes wide, nodding in encouragement. I had told her first, a few days before.
Sharn, my neighbour, had been a lesbian much longer than I had. Naturally I went to her first, hoping to seek some kind of ancient gay wisdom… or something. Her house was only a few metres away but my limbs were jelly as I stumbled to her door.
I couldn’t bring myself to say it outright, but she knew. She smiled and congratulated me, insisting on calling Skye over to tell the news. When Skye arrived I didn’t even have to say it. She guessed, right off the bat. At eleven years old. No judgement, just a knowing smile. That’s sisters for you.
“Renee I know” she laughed.
I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one who hadn’t known.
Before I could blink every kid in our small neighbourhood group was at Sharn’s house, blasting music and dancing in celebration, raising their lemonade glasses to me, and my new girlfriend. I can still hear the music and feel the swell of absolute pride. I knew then that everything was going to be okay. I resolved to bite the bullet and tell my parents at the next opportunity.
I clenched my hands together and opened my mouth to speak. The words caught in my throat and I coughed them out in one long, barely decipherable string.
“MumDadIamtellingyouthisbecauseIknowyouwilllovemenomatterwhatsoIhaveagirlfriend.”
Breathe.
I waited. My eyes flicked back and forth, waiting for the shock, the outrage, anything.
They didn’t bat an eyelash. They beamed up at me. They stood up and, physically and metaphorically I guess, embraced me.
“Of course we love you no matter what, Nay! We’re so happy for you!”
I couldn’t believe it. That smug, proud look on their faces.
“You knew didn’t you?”
Mum burst out laughing and nodded.
“So, who’s the lucky girl?”
Flash forward.
As promised, the ‘lucky girl’ broke my heart. I was left crumpled and crying, but It didn’t hurt as much as I was told it would.
A year later, I met someone else, and we’ve been together ever since. Some still think it’s a phase, and at large family functions I have to awkwardly introduce my girlfriend as my ‘friend’, but none of that matters anymore. I know who I am, and the ones I love support me.
As Dr Seuss said, “The people who mind don’t matter, and the people who matter don’t mind.”
Last week, I came out not to my parents, but to Adelaide. To the gay community. Hundreds of people and politicians alike, dressed in rainbows, waving banners and staring up at me, standing on the steps of parliament house, microphone and papers shaking in hand. I was chosen to speak on behalf of the Adelaide LGBT youth. Hours of lost sleep, a seven hundred word speech and my girlfriend by my side. I was ready.
Breathe. Blood pumped in my ears. I raised the microphone to my lips. The whole world was watching. Oh god Penny Wong was watching. Silence. My defining moment. I opened my mouth.
Just say it.
