"Mom I need to tell you something, please don't be mad."

He was about ten or eleven when he said it. And, man, did he look nervous. He met my eyes- he usually does- and squared his shoulders.
I admit that I was worried. What would he need to say that would be pre-empted with "please don't be mad." Did he take something? Did he break something? Did he- GASP- eat all the CHOCOLATE!! But no- something else was eating at him.
He looked at me and said, "Look, Mom, I don't want you to be mad. Please. I, uh, I- uh-" He gulped and then, "I'm not gay- I like girls." He looked abashed.
I stared at him, "Why would I be mad?" I asked.
He shrugged, "I thought, maybe you were hoping I'd be gay and I was worried that you'd to be disappointed that I'm not."
I smiled, "Honey, I just want you to love who you love and know you are okay no matter which way you swing. We will still love you."
He nodded, "I'm glad you aren't disappointed."
I hugged him. "Be happy. Be who you are and be proud of it. Love women, love men- be authentic- be yourself."
"Okay. Now I don't want to talk about this anymore."
Yep. That's how he rolls- the truth, done and then let's not discuss this anymore.

I didn't know that I knew anyone who was gay growing up but, like most people, I did. I was shocked when I found out that I did and then intrigued but never, ever, repulsed or deterred in any way from being their friend- they were still who they were. Then I moved to this amazing city where you could be gay, straight, bi or transgender and people just are and it was what it was.
The children were surrounded by people unafraid of being who they were in their love and we meshed with hetero and homo sexual families. I admired that and was grateful that my children could see the diversity around them and know that as we grow into who we are (not that we ever stop becoming), we can be held in that love and not rejected or cast out because of the gender of who we bestow our affections and love upon.

Of course, this also meant that when he was about eight and we were visiting my mother and a whole pack of Harley's tore past her house loud and wild, he climbed up to the top of the fence and yelled, "LOOK, MOM!! IT'S THE DYKES ON BIKES!!" at the top of his lungs whooping with joy.
I turned to my wide-eyed mother, evolved and accepting but surprised as all hell and shrugged, "Gay Pride Parade- it makes an impression on a person."
Then I turned back to my son to explain that not all motorcycles are ridden by women proclaiming their right and pride to be who they are and love who they love. --Some of them are people just making noise and loving the way the wind whips at them as they speed along in freedom. And that, is okay too.
Be who you are, love who you are and know that your journey is just as important as the next person's. Respect the diversity that makes this world a rainbow of culture, color, tradition, sexuality, art, religion and belief and the world will know peace.

I don't know about you, but I want to help bring that peace as much as I possibly can.....