Tell Me About Your Mother (And Father)

[Emiliano]

What kind of people are/were your parents? What is one of your best memories of them? What is your relationship with them like as an adult? How was it when you were growing up? What was their reaction to your sexuality (if they know)?

If you were raised by someone other than your parents, tell me about them.

[TwisttheLeaf]

My father passed away a few years ago. He was a 1st generation immigrant from South Korea, and a very closed minded man. Very strict. He knew of my preferences from a very early age and did his best to "change my mind" via berating, punishment, verbal and emotional abuse and manipulation, shame, degradation, etc.

Regardless of this, I loved him still, and grieved when he passed. I believe his treatment of me over those formative years was fundamental in creating the man that I am today and the amount of strength and confidence I have in myself, my values, mores, and preferences.

My mother is a 1st generation French immigrant. She is a "silk shirts and high heels" type of woman. Very refined. The kind of woman that can walk into a bar on the rough side of town, and people will stop cursing in her presence, and treat her with respect. She's beautiful. She holds herself like a lady.

As with my father, she's known of my preferences since I was a young child. She did her best to support me without going against my father in the process. It wasn't until a year or two ago, after my father's death, that I realized she has an issue with homosexuality.

Regardless of this issue, and my discovery over the past few years how superficial and sometimes selfish she can be, she's my mother and I love her. And she loves me.

Due to the conflict with my father through my childhood and adolescence, I emancipated from my parents at the age of 16 and have been on my own ever since. In spite of this, I've kept in touch with them and visited them over the years, and still visit my mother now and then (as I am currently doing for a few days right now).

My twin sister came to live with me about 4 years after I moved out, and has been living with me ever since.

You should share yours as well [MENTION=21558]Emiliano[/MENTION]

[LONDONER]

I have very little to relate. My father died twom weks before In was born so I have absolutely no memories of him. My nother died whehn I was five som my memories are equally vague. I do remember her funeral and right up to this day I cannot abide the smell of daffodils.

[Edward]

My parents are really wonderful people, very hardworking, managing everything with their own forces. They did a great job raising four children. They know about my being gay and they're fine with it. My father was like "since you don't have a woman, you must be either sailor or gay and I haven't seen a ship in our garden, so.."

[East]

My mother was a psychopath. I divorced her and had nothing to do with her at one point...and she died in 1996. I was happy when she died so I didn't have to deal with her anymore. I still am working on forgiving her. Every time I think I have it down...I find out that it isn't real....but I WLL truly forgive her as soon as I figure out how to do it...and none of that bullshit Hallmark crap. A lot of people don't know what a psychopath is...and they are lucky they don't...but one thing they DO need to know....Hallmark sentiments do NOT even begin to have any relevance.....forgiving a psychopath is a whole different kind of beast.

My father had a few redeeming qualities but he was a sadist...and he was incredibly shallow in some aspects. He ignored my mom's violent behavior because she was "beautiful" by society's standards...so was he.

Ironically enough..everything I like about myself the most came from lessons I learned from them...and not lessons they taught me...I learned that instead of being good role models...they were terrible warnings....and from that...I got a lot of wisdom...

Neither one had a problem with gay people....so coming out wasn't an issue....

My Grandmother's best friends for her whole life were a Lesbian couple...and no one had to "hide it" or not talk about it...they were open about who they were....

I honestly don't have any good memories of my mother...

With my father...I have some. I like when he stood up to religious idiots...he despised religion...and to bigots. He hated any kind of racial prejudice..even hated it when anyone said anything about gay people....

He wasn't shallow that way....

...and sometimes we used to laugh really hard.....

He never outright said it...but he liked my rebellious streak. He was overly concerned about what other people thought ...so I think he lived vicariously through me sometimes because I was overly not concerned....

...like when I brought the three Tranny Hookers (well..not really trannies...they were chicks with dicks) home for Christmas dinner...and the old lady who had sweet and sour tattooed on her tits and made sure everyone saw the tats....it was a fun day....

One of them did her impression of Wonder Woman for the family after dinner.....

I know..for my Dad..it was his best Christmas ever...and that is a good memory...

[ceez]

My parents loved to laugh, both had a great sense of humor. Unfortunately it didn't work out between them, I suspect infidelity, my mom got custody of me and my two sisters and we moved out to the country with my grandparents.My mother was big on education and started a job as a substitute teacher when I was around 9 or 10. Shortly after she died, I was 11 at the time and cry uncontrollably for a week. My father stayed in our life but I know my older sister remembers what happened during the divorce and didn't speak to my father again until her late 20's. My family is very religious and does not approve of gay people but I know my mom would still love me. As for my father, I got him hooked on video games so to this day we spend a lot of bonding time playing games. I'm still not sure where he stands on the gay issue, he's not as religious as the rest of the family and he had a nephew come out and he seemed ok with it but I think my cousin rushed it a little too fast and instead of telling everyone he might be trans he showed up to a cook out dressed in drag. That didn't go over so well and my dads side of the family isn't that close so I never got to come out to my cousin after that.

After age 11 I was raised by my grandparents, there was a big nasty battle over custody of me and my sisters and the judge asked us who we wanted to live with, we chose our grandparents... I still wonder if I made the right choice. My grandparents were good people but being the only boy in the house and my grandparents were getting old I got stuck with a lot of the chores to do, which I was fine with doing until I noticed everyone else was just setting on their asses the whole time. Like I said before my family is very religious and my grandparents were more so than the rest. They believed gay people are all perverted pedophiles and loved to put the words gay and abomination in the same sentence. I thought it would be a good idea not to come out to them my grandfather passed six years ago so now I'm hanging around taking care of my grandmother and her shit load of health problems, plus she has to pretty much beg anyone else in the family to come over to help take care of the house. still not sure how they don't know I'm gay, I'm 29 with zero girlfriends.

[Emiliano]

You should share yours as well [MENTION=21558]Emiliano[/MENTION]

Since you asked,

Both of my parents were the black sheep of their family. They both rejected their religious upbringing and raised my siblings and I to be secular. My mom's parents also didn't support her marriage to my dad, which caused a break in the family. My mom reconnected with her family in my teens, but I don't think my dad ever really got along with his parents. My parents were very big on community and I grew up calling almost every adult in my neighborhood my aunt or uncle, and I'm the youngest of six kids, so I never felt like I lacked on a big extended family.

My mom is from the Philippines, she came to NYC as a teenager and my dad was born here but his dad was from Central America and his mom was Haitian. I feel like I grew up with a heavy Filipino cultural influence from my mom, my dad was way more Americanized and wanted that for my siblings and me.

My best memories of my dad were helping him with the corner store he ran with his friend. I was really close with him, like everywhere he went I followed him around. I felt like I was so important and such an adult to be sitting behind the counter with him. He died when I was 11 though, so I feel like I really missed his influence during my teenage years, and there are so many conversations I wish I could have with him and issues I wish I could get opinions on. I went into a pretty bad place after he died and I didn't really come out of it until I was 16 or so.

I was always close to my mom but especially by my later teenage years we got super close. She treats me differently from my other siblings, but like the opposite of babying the youngest. It's more like she treats me like an adult, almost a peer. My brother is on the autism spectrum and is pretty low functioning, and with my older siblings mostly out of the house, I split the responsibility of caring for him with her, so I think that changed how she treated me. I see her at least twice a week and I talk to her every day. So we are really close. It's hard to pick my best memories of her, I have so many.

My mom is the one who outed me as gay. Not that I ever tried to fake being straight, but I never told anyone that I was gay, I had the same kind of worries a lot of us do, thinking my family wouldn't accept me and all that. I was 16 I guess and one of my sisters was joking about me liking her friend, and my mom was like "why would he care about her, he's gay!" Then she turned to me and said, "right? It's not a big deal but you need to admit it" since then all my sisters have gone from pestering me about women to pestering me about men. Because there are absolutely no boundaries in my family :/ haha

I think my dad would have been as accepting as the rest of my family. He was very much a macho, manly man and he was raising me in the same kind of macho way. But we had a really close bond. I've asked my mom what she thinks and she seemed offended id even question it. She said he never spoke badly about gay people or anything and he'd love me no matter what. But again, that's something I wish I'd been able to talk about with him.

Anyway that's enough from me for now I have to go to work!

[meridannight]

What kind of people are/were your parents? What is one of your best memories of them? What is your relationship with them like as an adult? How was it when you were growing up?

this is all too personal, and i'm not gonna answer any of it.

What was their reaction to your sexuality (if they know)?

the only thing i'll elaborate on is this.

i told my mom, but her reaction was genuine disbelief. to this day she thinks it's just some mood or phase of mine. or my way of joking with her. i can't say her opinion of homosexuality is a positive one, but it's not condemning or outright negative one either. she just buys into the popular stereotypes (like gay men being feminine, etc), and she hasn't ever knowingly known any gay men (well, me, but she doesn't believe me).

i haven't cared to tell her twice about it. i told her once, it was the truth. she can believe it or not believe it, but that won't affect my life. one day when i bring a guy home to her, she has to face the facts. or not. it's up to her.

[Cordelia]

My parents divorced when I was 10 and I didn't really see a lot of my Dad after that. He still loved us, but we came a distant second to his new relationship. After a couple of years, he got a promotion to another state, then later retired to yet another. In the last 20 years, I've seen him twice, when I made the effort to visit him. He sends me a text on my birthday every year and occasionally calls.

My Mother was a complicated person ( she died last year) A narcissist who made every situation about herself. She wasn't interested in her own kids, I don't remember a single time she ever hugged or kissed me. It was all about being seen to help everyone else. She prided herself on taking in 'strays' and we had a parade of unwed mothers staying with us until they had their babies, adopted them out and went home to their families. She was also involved in local theatre , so it was never odd to me that "Uncle" Terry wore make-up or "Uncle" John had a boyfriend. Our house was always full of assorted people who needed somewhere to stay, or just hang out. They were a great support to her when my Dad left. Years later, when I was divorced from my first husband, it was my gay friends who supported me and made sure I survived. I think I have my Mother to thank for that.

If I were gay, I truly think it would have made no difference to my parents. In fact, I think my Mother would have enjoyed it because she could have shown everyone how tolerant and accepting she was, lol.

[MikeW]

Both my parents are/were from a totally other ERA of so called "civilization".

Dad was born in 1904 and mom in 1907. Try to realize what that means. The first airplane flew only 1 year before my dad's birth; and the first Model-T ford wasn't produced until a year after my mother was born. Both of them grew up in homes without running water or electricity. Neither of them graduated from high school (wasn't expected of them). They were rural neighbors as children and married in 1921 (ages 17 and 15)... mom had JUST turned 15... so by contemporary standards, they were still children. They had their first child seven years later in 1928, TWENTY YEARS before I was born. Both my parents were in their 40s by the time I came along so the (dysfunctional) family dynamics (the eldest a brother, and two sisters, 15 and 10 years older, respectively) were already well established. (It took me YEARS of therapy to realize *I was not responsible for the nuttiness in my family!*)

My dad was 6'3" and my mother about 5'7" which, in some odd way, may explain why they had children so chronologically far apart. Dad was HUGE... and I don't mean fat. He had arms the size of legs and and tremendous upper body strength. However, he was also a deeply disturbed, depressed and angry man. By my teenage years he was seeing a psychiatrist and being treated for sever depression. (No one ever said, but I *believe* he was given shock treatments, which I'm sure did NOT help.)

My mother was a typical country home-maker. When I see her in my mind, I see here either in the kitchen or kitting in her rocking chair, watching her soaps. Typical Sunday family dinner consisted of: Baked of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, over-cooked green beans, coleslaw, Parker House rolls, and home made apple pie. NOTE: We grew the chickens, potatoes, green beans, cabbage and apples.

I tell the (true) story that my mother is the ONLY person I personally know to have read Finnegan's Wake (reportedly the greatest novel of the previous century) from cover to cover. She did it one summer. I'd brought the book home from Freshman college lit class and put in on the bookshelf right next to the reader's digests. I noted at one point she'd begun reading the book while simultaneously watching her soaps. I didn't say anything, I just wanted to see what she'd make of it. Sure enough, a few weeks passed, she put it back on the book shelf and I asked her, "Mom, I see you finished reading that book. What did you think of it?"

"Oh, it was alright, I guess," she said, obviously unimpressed.

"Really? Well, you know, mom, I never actually read it. WHAT IS IT ABOUT?"

"Well... (where I grew up "well" is a two syllable word: WAYY-LLL)... it was all these crazy thoughts going through people's heads as they sat around at a wake, I guess."

:eek:

Meanwhile, my dad was adamant that the greatest author of the Twentieth Century was Zane Gray.



My parents lived to see their SEVENTY FIFTH wedding anniversary, dad dying late in 1996. The best time I ever had with my dad was on his deathbed. No, seriously. I think it was THE ONLY good conversation we ever had, and thank goodness for that ONE. He was lucid right up to the end, giving orders to my two older sisters about the funeral arrangements (which had all been worked out repeatedly for decades). They told him, "Now, dad, you don't have to worry about another thing; it's all taken care of. The only thing you have left to do is die. We'll take care of the rest of it." So, without much further ado, he did.

My mom passed away a year later paralyzed from the neck down from a series of strokes. Some years before whenever I called home and asked her how she was doing, she'd always reply, "Well, I still have my sense of humor." After she had had a couple strokes (I was with her in Yosemite National Park when she had the first one), I asked what the aftermath felt like. "Well, you know how your arm feels when it falls asleep, all tingly? That's how it feels; numb and tingly and it just don't quit."

By the time she was on her death bed, she could not move. She could not speak. She did not know where she was. She did not know who WE were. She lay there SCREAMING like an infant: You know, how they get so rilled up they SHAKE, every nerve in their body trying to rip through their skin? Only thing was, as she did this, there was little to no sound, just a kind of raspy gasping of breath with her mouth wide open and her face all contorted. Seeing her like that was truly one of the most horrendous experiences of my life. The good lord had taken every last remaining iota of her sense of humor.