My Father a Bigot
What I'm about to blog is difficult. Both in scope and in the task of telling. I watched an episode of Law & Order tonight which featured a story line about the bigoted free speech of racists, skin heads, and nazi deniers/believers. It occurred to me that the powerless feelings I had toward the characters as the story played out are the same I associate with my father - a resolute man who believes his beliefs are the only true beliefs.To understand, you must know that my father is a fundamentalist Christian preacher who at age 18 was baptized in the Church of Christ and quickly started sipping heavily from that straw. (I sipped from the same straw until I turned 27, incidentally.) He and my mother have no real relationship with me or my three siblings, unless passive politeness is considered a relationship. Only one of their six grandchildren really catches their fancy, the oldest, from what I can tell. We children always have to write or call them, which from me happens twice or three times a year. My mother is fond of saying she couldn't wait for all of us to leave home, and when she sees a child acting up she'll say, "Boy that's enough to make you never want to have kids again." My father taught us that the bible teaches us to shun believers gone bad in order to prick their hearts so they will be returned to the lord.
To summarize our rearing would be cliche.
I e-mailed my father about a month ago with a plea for resolution -- some type of compromise where we could perhaps begin to develop a relationship. It has been nine years since the ax fell, after all.
Within three days he wrote back letting me know that he had received my e-mail and that he wanted to take a week to get back to me. He wanted to give his response time for an adequate response.
Since then, I have spoken with one of my sisters several times, as is our habit. According to her, I gave our father an ultimatum. She was not inclined to believe it -- ultimatums not being my style. Which is good because I didn't issue an ultimatum. While not choosing sides, she adroitly noted that *he* gave me an ultimatum of sorts five years ago, which will soon be spelled out in my copying of the e-mail I sent. She shared with me tonight that he pulled her aside recently and asked for her opinion on the matter, stating that he had written to me and was afraid that the result would tear apart our family. I didn't receive an e-mail, so either he is lying or he meant "written but not sent," ostensibly greasing the wheels for conversation with my sister. Beyond that, I am to gather that he is concerned about tearing apart the family, but not about obliterating his oldest son's heart.
I am fond of word definitions, and the word bigot is defined this way in the dictionary: a person obstinately or intolerantly devoted to his or her own opinions and prejudices. I've heard and used the word many times, but as I prepare to receive some dreadful news from my father, his continued scorn, its full meaning sinks in and I am tempted to beat him to the punch. I am drawn toward revenge. Maybe better: to avenge. I'm surprised by my clever ideas. I want the upper hand.
Where is this coming from? It's stems from this. His beliefs are so closed that he would, regardless of how much it hurt him personally, turn his back on me (officially, although it has been all but done for many years) because he believes it is his godly duty. He would sever our relationship no matter how much it pained him because he will not bend to what he views as the will of his god. Believing that in doing so he will prick my heart and I will return to the lord. I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that this kind of behavior would in most humans only achieve the opposite.
Here is the letter I wrote to my father last month. Was this an ultimatum?
2-18-06
Hi Dad,
I hope you are well. I'm writing today with a bit of an agenda so I'll skip the pleasantries. I'm writing to do a five year check up. In late 1999 or early 2000, I told you about Tom, who I was dating at the time. You said that you didn't want to hear any more or there would develop between us a fork in the road, and the further we discussed it, the further we would move apart from each other.
Frankly, that started a fork in the road anyway, don't you think? I'm well over the emotion, having been out now for nearly eight years and having been gay all my life. It's difficult to be emotional when you've been away from your parents for almost 20 years. Further, you are so absent now that I rarely think about it: coping eventually turned into forgetfulness (perhaps early signs of old age!) into blankness. But that's a shame. And not how I want to keep living.
Which is why I'm writing as I approach on March 20th my five year anniversary with my partner, Van Johnson, about whom I have never spoken. I am writing to do a check up and see where you are on the issue today. And if you're nowhere further, perhaps to nudge you toward resolution, understanding, or compromise.
A bit about Van. Interestingly, he grew up in the non-instrumental side of the San Francisco Church of Christ. His parents are long time supporters of ACU. Van and I have a good relationship, if not rocky at times like all relationships. He is why I moved west again, although I didn't consider myself done with New York when I left. We have considered having children.
Van and I have a close circle of friends: straight couples, gay couples, singles, people with children. It's all very domestic. And all integrated. But the piece in my life that is missing by comparison to our friends -- is my parents. My friends are left out of that part of my life. Van is left out of that part of my life. I am left out of that part. Van's parents, likely believing that he is going to hell, have nonetheless accepted me and welcomed me into their home. They know I know their belief system well and would adhere to it if I believed the same. I don't. But they also believe it is their place to love and accept their son -- and me -- while here on earth. It's not their place to do otherwise. Boy that sure is nice.
I'm writing because I wonder where you stand now on the issue today. You've never been one to change your ideas after setting your mind to it. There's power in that. But there's also weakness. I know because I inherited that trait and I sure wish you would consider making an exception this time around. I would love to have a relationship with you and mom, even if it were strained at the beginning but open and trying, knowing that both sides wanted to work toward a complete relationship. Also, approaching age 36, I know that I shouldn't expect it to improve unless I take a step from my end. Email works both ways, I know. So here I am.
You should know that I am firmly not going to resume my former world view. But you did a great job raising me, and everyone I know recognizes that. I have a full, respected, meaningful life, doing good for others and living a good life myself. I often think, "Boy it's a shame mom and dad are missing this."
I'm not being economical with my words. So to close, Grandma Jean told me a few years back when I came out to her on a visit to Redding that she'd always known -- since I was a little boy -- and was just waiting for me to feel comfortable enough to talk. After so many years being out, I was surprised by how much harder it was to tell her than it had been to tell you, but also by how quickly and without hesitation freely accepted me and assimilated what she had always known. It was family. It was real unconditional love, felt by me for the first time.
If you say, "I'm still in the same place, Jared," then I guess I'll check back again when I'm approaching 41. But wouldn't it be great to get to know each other in the meantime?
Take some time and think on it.
I love you,
Jared
P.S. I've taken the liberty of attaching a photo of Van and me -- taken at a Memorial Day picnic we spent last year with friends at Golden Gate Park. Boy, I'm getting old!
I don't get it. I need closure. That may mean cutting him out of my life before he has a chance to cut me out of his. I don't know what to do. I don't want to be the bigger man this time. I've been that all my life and all you get is walked on.
posted by Jay @ 12:07 AM
3 Comments:
What a wonderful gift you offered your father. The gift of a second chance. How many times have each of us wished for an opportunity to tunr back the clock, wipe the slate clean and start over?
It is shameful that he can not accept your gift with grace and gratitude. Be clear, it is shameful for him and not for you.
I suspect he knows that, too. Pride is one of those seven deadly sins for a reason and he has his own long row to hoe on the heavenly path. That probably doesn't comfort you and that is no surprise considering the type of wonderful, humble and forgiving person you are.
You don't need to cut him out of your life, but perhaps the idea of who he should be. Take comfort in your own life well lived, dear friend.
I really appreciated your sharing that with us. You have always been one of the most beautiful people in my life and it's a shame that your dad is missing out on knowing you. I know it hurts, and I hope there can be some resolution for both of you soon. I think it's very honorable that you have taken this step.
Jared, I hope your father does as many have before him which is to realize, as he ages, that 1) he needs to have a positive relationship with you and 2) that he might possibly be wrong (or at the very least, treated you wrongly). I really do hope he comes around, and sooner rather than later.
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