I never actually *told* my mom I was a lesbian. She told me. Here’s how it went:

[I was getting ready to move in w/ my first girlfriend and all that crew, including Favorite Aunt. I was packing up my bathroom stuff and mom was sitting on the edge of the tub talking to me.]

Mom: Are you going to tell me why you’re moving?
Me: Well, I can’t live with you forever, Mom. They live close to the beach, I hang out with them a lot anyway and I think it will be fun.
Mom: Uh huh. And?
Me: And what? I *know* it’s an hour drive to and from work and school but it’s an hour drive from here, so I’m not worried.
Mom: I know you’re lovers. You might as well tell me.
Me: Uh. Okay.

Brilliant, right? You can totally tell I’m a writer, right? That I have made my living for the last 12 years by writing and talking? (Fund raisers have to write extremely persuasive letters to get people to give us money plus I also did major gifts, which means talking to people in person to persuade them to part with their cash and also I had to do all of the internal and external communications.)

Now, for my dad:

My parents divorced the year I graduated from high school (1985 for the inquisitive ones among you) and I hadn’t spoken to my dad since that Christmas. This was 1996.

My dad wanted to try to mend our relationship and he asked my sister to see if I’d have dinner with them. My sister said she would but she had something to tell him first because if he was going to be a jerk, then she wasn’t even going to bother to ask me.

Dad: Oh, I know, she’s married to a black guy. (My dad, while not terribly racist – given that he’s a nearly 70-year-old Southern man – is dead set against interracial marriages. Despite having a mixed race adopted child, but whatever.)
Sister: Nope, she’s a lesbian.
Dad: *blink blink*
[silence for a good 5 minutes while Dad processes that and sister enjoys his discomfort.]
Dad: Women?
Sister: That’s what lesbian generally means, Dad.
Dad: Is her girlfriend black?
Sister: Nope. [This was before the girlfriend who *was* black. This was the one I call DAB {drunk ass bitch}]
Dad: Well, alright then.

For fuck’s sakes. Only my dad. He is far less racist than I remember him being – but he’s getting older. I sometimes think the ignorant things he says are just second nature because when he talks about his time in Viet Nam, for example, he tells stories about how a black soldier saved his life and rescued him from a POW camp. His voice has nothing but admiration for that man’s courage. Also, he loves President Obama. But every now and again, the old-school southerner in him comes out.

How about y’all? What happened when you told your parents? You should go check on the comments on my last post because Kimber’s dad’s reaction is priceless.