When your child comes out to you...

Lemon-Aid is a newsletter offering relatable tales and insights into parenthood, created by Lynda Moyo, Head of What's On and mum of two.

Lemon-Aid is sent out twice a week and every newsletter opens with a personal journal entry from one of our parent writers who take turns in sharing their unfiltered parenting reality with a highly engaged and growing audience. You can subscribe to the newsletter here.

To mark the end of Pride Month below is a recent Lemon-Aid written by contributor Maya Jordan, who shares her experience of when her son came out to her. For more of Maya's writing visit her blog: Bordering Grey

My middle son, quiet and withdrawn, was head boy at school, had a nice group of friends, was busy out and about, but at home, he barely looked at us.

It was as if a wall had been erected around him and we could see him in there but couldn’t quite reach across.

We didn’t fight. There were no rows. There was just an endless uncomfortable silence.

Then one day.

‘Can I speak to you mum?’

I put down my book and this nearly-man, my 17-year-old son, climbed into bed next to me.

‘I have something I need to tell you,’ he whispered.

My heart stopped, my mind flashing through all the things a 17-year-old boy might need to tell his mum. Silence bloomed, as we sat side by side facing the end of the bed. The silence went on forever. I tried asking if he was okay? If he was in trouble, was he hurt?

‘The thing is mum, I’m gay.’

I exhaled slowly not realising I’d been holding my breath. Relieved it was none of the things that had raced through my mind in that hot, heavy, pregnant pause, I reached for my son and gave him a big hug.

‘That was so brave of you to tell me,’ I whispered into his hair, that still smelt distantly of my little boy.

‘Thank you for telling me. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.’

As the evening wore on he told me he had been ‘out’ with his friends for ages. That he felt guilty not telling me. That he didn’t have the words. I nearly said that we’d known all along but luckily I swallowed that down, not wanting to minimise the importance of his experience. I wanted to ask loads, but mostly I tried to listen.

A few years before I’d clumsily mentioned girlfriends or boyfriends ‘if that is your thing?’ This had terrified him. Thinking that everyone could see just by looking at him, he’d tried to hide himself even more, magnifying that teenage silence until it deafened us all.

I’ve never had a problem with my son being gay.

I didn’t feel like I’d done anything wrong or that older relatives proclaiming that he’d ‘turn out funny’ if I let him play with dolls and hoovers when he was little, had somehow been right.

I didn’t feel that it changed my son or changed us. Though it helped me understand him a little more.

I know that’s not always how others might feel. For some, they have an image in their heads of who their children will be when they grow up and it doesn’t include being gay, trans, bi or any of the other ways to experience sexuality and identity in this LGBTQ+ rainbow world.

They might feel that they’ve lost their child or worry about the stigma their kids might face. They might need to educate themselves on how to deal with this brave new world. It can be hard. There’s a worry about what people might think, or what grandparents might say.

But your kid is still your kid. Nothing has changed. They’ve not changed. They were always like this – it’s just that you, and maybe they, didn’t know or couldn’t say.

We do the best we can, as parents. Some days that is dazzling and some days it’s barely scraping as a pass. It is what it is, we are human. But if you are faced with a young person, your beautiful, funny, complex kid, if they come out to you, try to make it one of your best days.

Offer them your unconditional love. They’ve been so brave in telling you. They were probably scared - particularly with stories of parents kicking kids out. All that rejection.

Whatever you are feeling, make this moment about them. Tell them you love them and will always love them. If they’ll let you, give them a hug.

It can be hard to know what to say but the most important thing is to listen. There might not be a big conversation after they have told you – that’s okay. Tell them you’re here to talk whenever they are ready.

There will be more talks. There will be more questions, but if you can get this first step right it will be easier. And if you don’t get it right, and as parents, we don’t always. If it didn’t go well, then own it. Say you are sorry. Say you want to make it right, that you want to listen and hear what they have to say, even if you don’t understand. Tell them you love them, will always love them, will always be proud.

If you’re struggling, talk to someone, reach out and connect with others.

It’s nearly fifteen years since my son came out. I can honestly say that being gay is the least interesting thing about him. He’s an amazing photographer and adores his crazy sheepdogs. He’s talked of starting a family soon. He works too hard in a job he loves and lets off steam walking in the wilds of Scotland.

He is rubbish at phoning his mum.

I worry, but not about who he snogs. Who he loves has been no more of an issue than any of my other kids.

He’s just my son.

But if you see him, tell him to call his mum.

Helpful resources

• FFLAG - charity dedicated to supporting parents and families and their LGBT+ members.
• Mermaids - helping gender-diverse kids, young people and their families
• NSPCC - sexuality and sexual orientation