Interesting Article: When Your 7-Year-Old Son Announces, 'I'm Gay'

If only more parents could be as supportive as this mama! What an inspiration!

When Your 7-Year-Old Son Announces, 'I'm Gay'

Considering that my son has a longstanding crush on Glee's Blaine and regularly refers to him as "my boyfriend," I thought there was a fair chance that he would someday say, "I'm gay." But my kid is only 7 years old. I figured I had a few years before we crossed that threshold (if we ever did), probably when he was 14 or 15. I never thought it would happen this soon.

Six months ago "gay" wasn't even a word in my son's vocabulary. He has always known that some of our male friends are married to men and some of our female friends to women, and it is such a normal part of his life that he never needed a special word to describe them. When he did notice the word and asked what it meant, I told him that when boys want to marry boys and girls want to marry girls, we call that "gay." He didn't seem very interested and quickly went off to do something else more exciting than a vocabulary lesson with his mom.

Fast-forward a few months. I was on the phone with a relative who had just discovered that I was blogging on The Huffington Post and openly discussing my son's crush on Blaine. I was in another room alone (I thought), explaining, "We're not saying he's straight, and we're not saying he's gay. We're saying we love who he is," when my son's voice piped up behind me.

"Yes, I am," he said.

"Am what, baby?" I asked.

"Gay. I'm gay."

My world paused for a moment, and I saw the "geez, Mom, didn't you know that already?" look on my son's face.

I got off the phone and leaned down to eye level with him and rubbed my nose against his. "I love you so much."

"I know," he said, and ran off to play with his brothers.

Since that day, any time the word "gay" has come into conversation, he has happily announced to those around him, "I'm gay!" He says this very naturally and happily, the same way he announces other things that he likes about himself. Mention that a person is tall and he'll quickly add, "I'm tall!" If he hears the word "Legos," barely a second passes before he says, "Legos. I love Legos." Saying "I'm gay" is his way of telling people: this is something I like about myself.

It's amazing, but it's also shocking. How many people have a 7-year-old come out to them? A lot of people don't know how to react, and I don't blame them. Before my son, I'd never met a child who came out this young -- and we don't know anyone else who has. The mere idea of children having a sexual orientation makes people uncomfortable. It's something we don't think about (or just don't like to).

But here's the thing: straight children have nothing to announce. Straight is the assumption. No one bats an eye at a little girl with a Justin Bieber poster in her bedroom, or when little girls love playing wedding with little boys every chance they get. If our sexual orientation is simply part of who we are, why wouldn't it be there in our elementary years?

I've heard from countless adults who say they knew that they were gay as young as kindergarten but lacked the language to talk about it. And in most cases, they knew it was something wrong that they should hide. Because gay people are part of my son's everyday life, he has the vocabulary, and it has never occurred to him there is anything wrong with it.

On one occasion after an "I'm gay" announcement, I watched my husband reach out to ruffle our son's hair. "I know, buddy," my husband said to him. "And you're awesome, too." That's how we're handling it. We want him to know we hear him, and that he's wonderful. It feels like the right thing to do, and that's all we have to go by. We don't have any other examples.

We did take a few extra steps. Within a few days we had a quick talk with him about how some people don't like it when people are gay, explaining that those people are wrong. If he hears anyone says anything about being gay like it is something bad, he is to run and get us immediately. We had a brief conversation with his teachers: Our son is identifying as gay. We don't think there's anything wrong with that or with him. And this is the only acceptable opinion on the subject. All his teachers, while surprised, were on board. We learned that he hasn't used that word at school yet, so we'll cross that bridge when the time comes.

I don't think it will always be easy. We don't know what to expect. At this point we aren't looking for trouble, but at the same time we're preparing for it. We know we have a journey ahead of us, just like everyone does. And this is one part of the story of our son and our family.

Do I think this is the last word on his orientation? I don't know. He's 7. Maybe as he gets older he'll tell me something else, but it's just as likely that he won't. But really, that doesn't even matter. What matters is right now. And right now I have a young son who happily announces "I'm gay." And I'm so proud to be his mom.

So interesting!!!

One amazing woman...

A Widow’s Wisdom

SEATTLE – Every once in a while the unconvincing, bristly language of the culture wars gives way to a genuine plea from the heart. And it’s in these rare moments, when words are freed from their ideological captors, that the politics of these issues are shown to be so hollow.

We had one of these public cris de coeur here in the remarkable run-up to Washington’s legalizing same-sex marriage this week. A middle-aged, heterosexual legislator, Maureen Walsh, who is a conservative Republican from the small town of Walla Walla, rose to explain why she would be bucking her party on one of the most contentious social issues of the day.

“I was married for 23 years to the love of my life, and he died six years ago,” said Walsh. “I’m a lonely old widow right now. I’m 51 years old, looking for a boyfriend and not having much luck with that. And yet, when I think of my husband, I don’t miss the sex—”

There followed a few seconds of uncomfortable laughter in the marble chambers of Olympia. O.K, she acknowledged, the sex was fine. But more important was the love. “I think to myself: how could I deny anyone that incredible bond I had with another individual in life? It seems almost cruel.”

A few days after a video of Walsh’s speech went viral, making the mother from Walla Walla a hero to many people around the world, Rick Santorum brought his crusade against gays and birth control to this state.

Santorum spoke to a crowd inside an Olympia church, and then tussled with protesters at a public event in Tacoma. He is obsessed with other people’s sex lives and determined to repeal both a half-century of forward thinking on contraception and decades of progress on how people treat their gay and lesbian fellow citizens. But you could almost see his words disappear on a Puget Sound gust as he spoke.

You may not hear it from their presidential candidates, but the party of Lincoln is torn between its language of liberty and its prescriptions to deny that freedom to millions of Americans.

Santorum, though surging for the moment in Republican primary polls, is the past. He says mutually consenting adults do not have the constitutional right to privacy. Laws that criminalize sex between some citizens exist to prevent acts which “undermine the basic tenets of our society.” These tenets, he says, trump civil authority. “God gave us laws that we must abide by.”

So gays in the military, now risking life and limb for their country, would be run out of the service, as per an old policy he wants reinstated. And should he become president, he promises, anyone currently married to a member of the same sex would have that union invalidated by a constitutional amendment.

He couches his opposition to family planning and gay love as a brave stand against intolerance – the state “imposing” its values on people of faith. Of course, churches are exempt under the new law from having to perform same-sex marriages. No matter. Most of what Santorum says is bound for a time capsule, the one that holds arguments for failed philosophies of the past.

Representative Walsh, trembling, fighting back tears as she spoke, is the future. She said something at the end of her speech that critics might dismiss as self-interest, born of family ties. But once again she made irrefutable sense. Her daughter, she explained, is gay, and in love.

“Someday, by God, I want to throw a wedding for that kid,” said Walsh. “I hope that’s exactly what I can do. I hope she will not feel like a second-class citizen involved in something called a `domestic partnership.’ ”

This Valentine’s Day, a day devoted to the often indecipherable tugs of the heart, comes just after Gov. Christine Gregoire signed into law a measure making Washington the seventh state to allow gays to marry. The bill became law, as happened in New York State’s passage last year, because a handful of Republicans broke ranks with their party.

Gregoire, a Roman Catholic and a Democrat, herself broke with the teachings of her church. She said she could no longer, in good conscience, oppose letting certain people get married. She praised her daughters for bringing her around.

“It’s a day that historians will mark as a milestone for equal rights, when we did what was right, just and fair and did it together, Republicans and Democrats, gay and straight, young and old,” Gregoire said, at the bill signing on Monday.

In Santorum’s view, all of this is evidence of societal collapse, a nation unmoored from its moral anchor. The implication of his position is that gays should return to the closet, leading secretive lives, out in the cold, away from the embrace of their families. He threw his lot in with people in this state who have vowed to overturn same-sex marriage by referendum in November.

Don’t bank on it. The near future will be populated by those who share the beliefs of Gregoire’s daughters and by those who will come to see the wisdom of a lonely widow who thought hard about the meaning of love.

http://campaignstops.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/02/14/a-widows-wisdom/

Africa in perspective

A close friend was asking me how big Africa is in comparison to the United States. Anybody with a general sense of geography knows that Africa is several times larger, but I was curious to know by how much. I found the below map on the web...even larger than you thought, right? 

Washoku (Japanese food) and pipe dreams

Today I visited the Asian Food Market on 91 Colvin Street in Albany. I went in telling myself I would only buy quality green tea, a thick pack of seaweed and wasabi - three things I always find myself missing in Nairobi. But try being a Japan-ofile like me and walk into a well-stocked Asian grocery store with LITERALLY a whole 25-meter long aisle full of just Asian teas!! And then another, just-as-long aisle of Japanese food products. I was in my own, personalized heaven on earth. I went in thinking I'd spend 20 bucks max; I left having paid a bill totaling $115! No guilt felt here though. We can't be penny wise and dime foolish after all deshou? And for me at least, stocking up on my version of comfort food (Japanese food) is a key ingredient to my long-term happiness and health. :) So miso soup and kare-raisu nights in Nairobi - here I come!! :) 

I must also point out another one of my favorite cash gobblers, <cough cough>, I mean boutiques, is just a 20 minute drive from the above Market. The place is called Violets - the boutique has a wonderful selection of stunningly elegant, but youthful items that always make my eyes sparkle and my pocketbook itch. I am not sooo much into fashion, but I do enjoy looking nice (my Kenyan friends would swear that's the Luo in me talking) and Violets just so happens to have clothes that make my particular body type look nice. Too bad an outfit there is at least $100. I like to dream about dressing nice though so every time I'm home in New York, I stop by and leaf through the clothes, very pole pole-like, soaking in the beauty of each item. I miss nice clothing shops, even if I don't actually have the income to buy from them. Kenya doesn't have such shops. At least, none that I'm aware of. When I buy clothes there, it's out of desperation and then, much to my chagrin, the items start to fall apart and loose their shape and color after only a couple washings. Unless, of course, you're willing to spend $50 on a simple, not-all-that sweater from Woolsworth, clothing shopping in Nai is just not worth it.  

Swift winds of change

Gosh, I haven't updated this thing in ages. Sorry for that, folks. Not sure if anybody reads this anymore, but since I've a bit of time on my hands these days (and fast internet), I'll update regardless.

I won't go into the personal details, but the past month or so has been one of the most trying periods of my life. Work has served as a sort of detox, but my thoughts have very much been on more personal matters, family matters, relationship matters...on my most recent ride in Rwanda, I felt like I was there physically, but that my mind and spirit were far away, dashing back and forth between Nairobi and home. And then the unexpected happened. Life screeeeched to a halt and sped up all at the same time. Kigali, Nairobi, Dubai, NYC, Albany...and at long last, home - where I needed to be. 

Most of us are aware that Life is never static, it constantly changes, presents us with new challenges, opportunities and windows of hope. We are told time and time again that we better appreciate those around us, especially our loved ones, but how many of us are really as grateful as we should be? One of my closest friends once wrote me a very tear-filled letter after the death of her father. She advised me that I should never go to bed angry with the ones I love. "Always forgive and make up," she urged. I'd advise people to take that one step further, especially those who do not see their loved ones (especially family) often (like us expats living abroad). Don't put off that that phone call home. Don't tell yourself, I'll write my brother as soon as I get a chance, tomorrow or this weekend. Don't get angry with your significant other for petty things. Appreciate them, love them, write to them, call them TODAY...don't wait till tomorrow when you may not still have a chance.  

I am one of the lucky ones. I live literally on the other side of the world from my family, my country, the way of life I know best. I'm guilty of not staying in touch as often as I should and traveling elsewhere when I know my mom would rather I just come home. And yet, my family still loves me as if I were at their dining room table yesterday. When I come home, there is a spot for me in their lives that will never be filled by another - I am still my brother's best friend, my father's confidant and my mother's baby girl. This realization fills me with more overwhelming sadness and gratitude than I can explain.

Forced instruction and observations of the Great Divide

My trip to the States was wonderful. The trip back home was smooth, but GOD, was it LONG! As I had selected Emerites as my means of travel, I transited at Dubai  - a lovely airport full of all the fountains and fancy shops that you imagine the UAE's international airport would have. After enjoying around 3 hours of free wireless internet, I hopped on my last flight for the day - Dubai to Nairobi. My plan was to sleep the entire ride so that by the time I finally reached my bf's waiting arms, I'd be awake and coherent. Much to my chagrin however, the Indian Kenyan gentleman who was seated next to me decided my time was better served hearing him tell me his entire life story. I tried sending him hints like putting on my earphones, pretending to read my Nook, etc, but none of my tactics for peace and quiet worked. He was a nice enough guy, but I was just so bloody exhausted....in a vain effort to at least keep the conversation interesting, I ended up picking his brain about the "African Kenyan"-"Indian Kenyan" divide. As I expected, his opinion of the African Kenyan population was not pretty yo say the least. He described a deep mistrust by the Indians of the African Kenyans. He bragged that, unlike his fellow Indians, he was "good" to "the Africans," but added the caveat that this was because should he not be, "they'd stab me in the back." "If you're bad to them, he explained in a matter-of-fact tone, "they remember, you know. They'll never forget the unkindness you showed them. And one day, they will get back at you. You know, those people, they never separated completely from the animal. They act first and then, only after they have attacked you, that is when they will think about that action that they have taken. They can be very dangerous people." He went on and on...I just looked at him dumb-founded, wondering what he would say if I told him I completely disagree, that I have numerous African friends who are perfectly lovely and trust-worthy, or how I've fallen in love with an African man (oooh, God forbid!) and couldn't care less if anybody disapproves of the relationship we've formed. My Indian seatmate, however, interpreted my dumb-struck expression as portraying "interest" and thus went on to tell me how one of his distant family members "actually married an African." I'm surprised they are still together," he remarked, "because most Indians who try relationships with Africans don't see success. Yet those two have made it so far and they even have a kid! But what a funny-looking kid it is. I always laugh when I think of that funny looking kid..." And he went on and on...

I never did get any sleep and as a result zonked out in my bf's arms at the early hour of 8 in the evening.  

Every other country I've visited, I've observed interracial relationships between the local populations, be they different colors, ethnicities, what have you. In Kenya, it is common enough to see "African Kenyans" forming relationships with wazungu (whites), but I have never seen a couple made up of a "African Kenyan" and "African Indian." It just doesn't happen. And the divide seems to go further than that. I never see the two populations mix and there seems to be a bitterness between the two. "Indian Kenyans" have been around for decades, if not generations. Many have Kenyan passports, speak fluent Swahili, and feel more comfortable in Kenya than they do in India. Indeed, many young Indian-Kenyans have never even been to India at all! And yet, despite all the years they have lived here, Indian-Kenyans still somehow manage, and seem to prefer, to keep themselves separate from the African majority.