Three weeks ago I found out that a pretty good friend of mine is gay.
We’ve been friends for several months, and I found out suddenly one day, when he just blurted out at lunch that he was homosexual.
I would like to be able to tell you that knowing this has not changed my perceptions at all, but I can’t. Yes, I am still his friend and yes, I still respect and like him for the person that he is, but I can’t say that I wasn’t shocked when he told me.
I truly was surprised—to find myself shocked, that is. You see, like so many people I considered myself politically correct, ready to handle anything—unshockable. But my beliefs had never been tested. And suddenly I was confronted with something that my religion and political background told me was wrong.
I was not naive enough to believe that I had never known anyone gay. I had a cousin, Tony, who was homosexual and died of AIDS. Seeing his life drain away, having to hug him for the last time with gloves and a mask on—that opened my eyes.
Suddenly, this disease and lifestyle were in my backyard. I could not imagine that anyone would choose to be gay after seeing the reactions of some of my friends and family members when they learned of Tony’s death and its cause.
It was then that I began to believe that homosexuality is not a choice, but simply the way that you are. Who would choose to deal with the persecution and pain? I wondered. I was curious, but it was too late to ask my cousin any questions. We had never talked about it. That is something I will always regret.
Still, I hope you will understand what I mean when I say that for me, having a friend who is gay was different. In my family, you stand by each other no matter what, so with my cousin support was never a question. Now, I had a choice. Could I actually chat casually with my friend about dates, etc.?
It may seem like a silly, old-fashioned question to you, but there were other friends of ours who found out and turned away—not blatantly, not rudely, just quietly. Cowardly, you might say. And I thought, but wasn’t he our friend before we knew he was gay? And isn’t he still the same person?
Yes, of course. And then I knew, as I had really known deep down from the start, that my friend and I would remain such. Not acquaintances, not “Well, I’ll still say hi,” but friends. I still feel a little uncomfortable when he talks about romantic dinners, kissing and watching the sun set, but I’m working on it.
Since he told me we have talked a lot, me asking questions and him happy to answer because at least I am being honest. We have grown closer, he feels more comfortable with me now because I know and like him for who he is. In most of his life, including his job and family, he has to hide himself, to lie about his “friends.” It took him until he was 24 years old to just accept who he is.
I think about those things, about what he went through, and I feel ashamed of my doubts about our relationship. But in spite of what you think or perceive, I believe that a lot of people feel the way I do—knowing what you think, what you’ve experienced, but confused by outside information, stereotypes, the perceptions of others.
That’s why I wrote this column. Because I get the feeling that many of us are going through the same struggle, whether it’s about this issue or another.
What I have learned most is this: When you have a difficult decision to make, ask yourself whether what you are doing is what you want to do. What you have been taught. What you believe. What you think people want you to believe. What you have decided. What you have done by rote without thinking.
The answer always seems pretty clear to me after that. Not always easy, but clear. Then again, being a friend, whether to another or yourself, is never that simple.
