August 12, 2024
Breaking The Silence
A story about owning oneself, a conversation between a mother and a daughter, and living in a false sanctuary
First of all, I don’t know why but the thought of this topic chuckles me. Maybe, I’m nervous or I find her response quite comical. Or, the whole “coming out” term never felt right, but it’s the phrase to describe many peoples’ stories.
Now, this story does not haunt me nor live in the back of my brain. Rather, it is filed and stored away as a moment that needed to happen in order for me to move on, be happy and fully love. My mother’s response was pretty much what I was expecting. You can compare it to re-watching your favorite show, but still reacting as if you have never seen the same scenes before. I had no idea of how this night would go, while still hoping for the best outcome. Now, let me give you a small picture of my mother and her mannerisms.
My mother is one of the most comical people I know. Not in your Kevin Hart way, but in the way of “ A black woman whose face says what her mind thinks followed by her words.” There is no sugar coating, only the truth. If you don’t want to hear honesty, then don’t ask her the question. She is an educated RN of over ___ years. She’s a NOLA woman known for her “Dem Pies” and cooking is a way of life. She is a woman who worked for everything she has and continuously made sure I knew she was present and supportive, by being a mother who provided for me when I didn’t know how hard her life was. She loves competition and will smack the shit out of your hands playing hot hands no matter if you are 5 or 60 years old. She also is judgemental, to a fault of her environment, and due to the reluctance to expand her mindset. Ignoring issues which are beyond surface level is her way of dealing. She is my mother, and maybe this is why I am who I am and why I have been put into her life so strategically. I am here to expand her mind. It is all a choice though. More on that later. Oh and she’s 5’41/2 (the 1/2 matters to her). Now back to her response.
My “coming out” was a small part of a MUCH larger and HEAVIER topic of discussion. I squeezed it at the very end of a google form and said this:
“By the way, since I’m getting everything out in the open, you might as well know, I like women. Idk if it’s 80% women and 20% men or 70:30 but I like women. Oh and I know Bria (my sister) won’t have a problem with it.”
The much HEAVIER topic I informed her of was how I was sexually abused as a child. (Yes, I can admit, I did pack it on THICKK) Fast forward to a week later, my mother was in my apartment ready to sit down and talk. I was prepared as I will ever be. Before I opened my front door, I stood in my living room embracing the silence, embracing the safe space I have cultivated for myself, and embracing the calm before the storm. The calm was more like nerves mixed with ready to get this over with and why did I start this. Before this point, I have not had any interaction or contact with my mother since I sent her my letters. I take a breath and open the door. She walks in with her dark blue scrubs and her Mardi Gras scrub cap and sits on the sofa. The energy in my living room was a mixture of strong avoidance with no choice, but to face each other. For a while I was quiet. As she sat on the sofa, I went into the kitchen and kept stirring whatever I was cooking. All I wanted was to teleport to a place – anywhere – so I chose the pot. But, this was my doing and as uncomfortable as I was I knew I had to see this through.
This conversation was not filled with yelling. Though, she did have enough of me discussing this from the kitchen and tried to get me to sit on the sofa with her, but that was too much for me. Sitting close to her while discussing how my body was violated was too much of a sensory trip. Instead, I sat on my stability ball to help my nerves. Yes, we did discuss the abuse. This was a discussion of discussions, but I knew we would only talk on this topic once. Even though I asked for follow up sessions, preferably with a therapist, I knew my mother was only willing to cope with so much. Now, towards the end of the first segment of this talk, I grew more uncomfortable. I felt very seen, almost see through, and her vibe wasn’t one of compassion, but mostly on guard. At this moment, my mind started to drift and I felt my aura start to shut down. We are not in a harmonious, healing environment, but in an environment where honesty is turned into faults, and no one is safe. Now for the coming out segment of this story.
She broke the I love women ice by asking, “So. What is this you liking women about?” “Is this because of what happened?”
*All said like a traditional black mother with sass and attitude*
If you read my abuse story here, then you know why my follow up expression and tone was one of anger and confusion. i Was aBusED bY BoT/h SeXes – da fuck (yelled in my mind). I bounced on the ball and stood up when those words came out of her mouth. You know the face you make when someone says something so utterly obscene it makes you squint and tilt your head – yeah that was me. At this point, I knew my mother was not willing or able to open her heart, expand her mind and see me. She would not get the pleasure to know the living room she is in now is where I experienced my first kiss with a woman. She would not get the pleasure to know this magical house on Terpsichore is where I was able to be hugged and felt safe. She would not get to envision me listening to soulful music, laying on the couch with an incense burning and enjoying the simple company of the person I loved at the time. She would not get to know all the other happy memories that happened or yet to come.
I wish I could say after all the pain I shared with her she embraced me, reassured me with love, and accepted me (because this seriously can’t be that surprising), but no. In that moment, and till this day, she only sees or has expressed her pain and dealings. Who knows, maybe there is more than meet the eyes. Maybe our stories are more aligned than what one says. If so, I wish she was able and willing to face her own monsters and stop ignoring mine. Maybe I wish or imagine a “why” to the conditional love. At the end of this conversation I was still a good, respectable daughter. I packed her some food to go. I opened the front door. I told her ‘night and watched her drive off.
The door closes and I’m left to embrace the silence. I reclaim my comfy sofa and I sit. I think. I stare. I feel and the silence is filled with thoughts. The aroma of food and weed intermingle again. She is dimmed with warm lights. My safe place comes back to me. I a comforted by myself, because I know tomorrow will come. Tomorrow will come and it will be a day I can start to embrace who I am with one less barricade. For this, I am happy, because this was done for me.
That is it. That is how I “came out” to my mother. Me liking women was the Cherry on top of a trauma cake. For me, it was an afterthought. By this time, I had started to accept and embrace myself by confirming my desires and being in a relationship with a woman. I needed the unknown/known secret out the way, so I could not hurt who I was with. I wanted to like and eventually love with no limits.
Started writing in year 2023 maybe Finished writing on 5/13/24
Notes From The Author
I was 23 years old when I confronted my mother. All of this happened in 2020. I decided to write and publish this story, because I wanted to share it. My coming out story isn’t traumatic, but expected. I know who my mother is and how she thinks of same sex couples – lifestyles as she would put it. So, I wasn’t butt hurt when she did not accept me. I was a little bit surprised at her ability to be so stubborn in a belief that has no basis. It’s a belief that has no roots in value or religion. More so, I was surprised at the lack of embrace after being so vulnerable and expressing the amount of hurt I was exposed to growing up. But hey, all that won’t stop me. Ha! I love women too much for that. After reading my story, I hope you can take away some points
Takeaways
Hurt people Hurt people – It is a choice
Like / Love with no limits
Cultivate your safe space
Jump over your barricade so you can breathe and live fully
If it’s safe to do so, get your secret out the way.
Manage expectations
Be realistic about the people in your life and the values they hold
Speak your truth for YOU