But one that took years to find a voice.
She would have understood, or, would she? She will understand, or, will she?
There it is, that quizzical look. Comprehension followed by disbelief, then shock and sadness.
Why did I say it?
Mum, coming out to myself changed my life. I am speaking my truth to you in order for the untruths to end. I am not salacious or lewd or dirty or evil. I am the child you raised to work hard, be honest and respectful.
At the height of my anguish I cried to the God I’d prayed to all my life asking her why I could not love like others could.
My journal told another story. A woman who made my heart skip a beat, twenty times a day. Who shared my politics about politics and kept me intellectually engaged. Conversations with her continued in my head long after we had parted. A woman whose skin I fantasized what it would feel to touch, soft, smooth and silky. Whose scent I breathed in, no, drank in, with every pore. A woman whose spirit melded perfectly into mine. Whose thoughts I knew even before she put words to them. Whose sorrows and joys I felt despite being thousands of miles away.
Mum, a weight lifted off my shoulders the day those words crossed my lips. Indescribable peace washed over me. I am a lesbian.
She hangs around me, and I around her, because we are lovers, partners, friends. The song she put in my heart six years ago still plays, a melody I had never heard before. She put a lightness to my step, encourages me when I need it, chastises me when I am not exerting myself. She warms my heart, holds me close and with her, I know it will be alright. I know for certain that I am capable of loving, of relationships that are sincere and true. You have come to love her too Mum. You’ve experienced her gentleness, her generosity, her thoughtfulness. She is your daughter-in-law.
I am a lesbian.