Perhaps a hop, skip and a jump over the over-personal line I occasionally blur on this blog… a touch of homesickness and a gallon of post-Pride pride has made me feel the following is appropriate to note:
Eight years ago today, a few days after finding VHS copies of “Trick,” “Get Real” and “Edge of Seventeen” under my bed, my mother came into my room, looked at me with tearful eyes and said: “I know you’re gay.” She lit a cigarette (which was never allowed in the house), gave me one (also a big taboo at the time) and for hours we cried and talked it out. I could wax seriously over-sentimental as to the personal self-acceptance and beyond-fabulous mother-son relationship that has since developed out of those hours… but that would definitely be crossing a line. So I’ll just leave it at that… and wish for similar moments for all the young queers out there.
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