Letter from a young homosexual to his mother

Letter published on the Stophomophobie (France) website on 23 October 2013, freely translated by Francesco P.

I wrote this letter a week ago. It would be for my mother, but for the moment I don't have the courage to send it to him. So I decided to publish it here, knowing well that I am not the only one in this situation. Dear mom, it has been for some time that I think I write you this letter. In fact, almost five years. I know, it may seem a lot for a simple piece of paper, but it is not as easy as it seems: it is not a simple postcard, far from it. I was 12 when I discovered it. At the beginning, it frightened me. I thought of you when I realized it: what you had told me a few days before.
I remember perfectly the whole scene. Sitting at the table, there was discussion of different social issues. Then the conversation fell on our new neighbors. Two men who love each other. Two homosexuals. Then you called them "two fags". You explained to me, to me and my sister, as if it were absolutely necessary to avoid approaching them, because those two were certainly sick, against nature. You told us they were without God, you indignant to know that they cultivated the hope of getting married, one day.
Instead, you put your hope for that this right was never granted to them. That day, while listening to you, I agreed with you. Ever since I have memory, you've always expressed homophobic attitudes in front of me. And I took it for truth everything you said.

I was wrong to listen to you.

Until my 12 years, in reality, I had never asked myself questions about sexuality, love, and all those things that are not really interesting in the eyes of a child. It was only in second average that I made myself the one that I was the only one among my friends not to do the thread to the beautiful blonde girl with blue eyes of my class. In the beginning I wasn't really worried about it. But I was growing, and I said to myself that "I needed a girl" to show everyone to "be cool" - said with the words of my friends. But there was a problem: I didn't care about it.

In our class, however, there was a boy who came from the United States: tall, brown and with brown eyes. When I saw it, my heart began to beat a little stronger. Yes, mom, I was attracted to a boy. Surely you already understood it: that day I realized I was gay.

I was terrified. I thought I was abnormal, that I was suffering from a serious, incurable disease, just as you told me. I found comfort and consolation only in my best friend (yes, she. The one with whom you said - first then I would have engaged). You know, his parents are not like you: they are not homophobic. She was grown in respect of the other: she explained to me that I was not sick at all, that I was not counter-natural. On the contrary, the nature itself had decided that I prefer men to women. I can't do anything, mom. I'm done so.

Here, mom, what I had to say. I have been hiding my homosexuality for five years. I have no idea how you can react to this news. One day you told me that if you ever had a homosexual son, you would have liked to make him think. But the reason has nothing to do with all this. I am like this, that's all. Nobody can change this thing, and let alone.

If I found the courage to write to you, it is because I was encouraged by my friends, and especially by one in particular. You don't know him yet, and I'm not so sure that you want to meet him. Patience, I think he doesn't even have a lot.

I love you, mom, and you know it. But I can't bear your homophobia. I would like you to change, that you understand. I know you believe in God, but I think that if there is really a God, then he has to agree with my nature, or otherwise he would never have allowed this trait in my DNA.

Signed, your homosexual son.

Original text: The Letre of a Jeune Gay à Sa Mère