So, My Mom Knows

This trip to NYC was one of the most stressful of my life. It came with the usual stress that comes with visiting a Latina mother - she's brutally honest, has no filter between her brain and her mouth, and consistently pointed out how much weight I've gained. That's putting it mildly - she called me fat quite a lot. At one point, told me I look like the sky.

While we were cooking thanksgiving dinner together, a Ricky Martin song came on the radio and she mentioned that he came out as gay and has kids. I said, "good for him!" and that conversation didn't go much further - but I was determined to come out to my mom anyway.

Later that night, we got to talking. It got real deep, real fast. She recounted the story of when she was raped at 13 years old - how she ended up pregnant - how her mom and sister worked to get her an abortion without her dad finding out - except that throughout all this, she didn't even understand what it meant that she was pregnant, or that she had been violated because she had been knocked unconscious during the attack.

I'll spare the details - but let me simply say that the "wire hanger" abortion references to days of old? That shit was real. They didn't take her to a doctor, but they figured out how to make my mother give birth to a still-born, at 13.

I began to understand my family's history - my mother's detachment from her siblings, especially THAT sister ... and how a few years ago my mother whacked the bitch upside her head in her own house after the bitch told their other sister not to mention anything in front of my mom because it was "family business." Yeah - well, apparently it took 50 years for my mom to tire of being treated like she wasn't family ... THAT'S why she's still fist fighting at 60.

I asked about my childhood - why did she send me to my aunt and uncle to raise me instead of keeping me at home with my brother? Turns out, postpartum depression is a SON of a bitch and she told me flat out that I wasn't planned, she didn't want me and had thought of hurting me when I was born. My uncle (whose name I made my middle name) insisted that my om leave me with him while she got better.

But sitting there across from my mom - it really did sting to actually HEAR her tell me that she didn't want me. To HEAR her tell me that is wasn't until my brother got into all his gang shit that she felt she started getting close to me. The more he slipped away from her, the more she got close to me. THIS is how I ended up being the grown up in the relationship, you see - I've been taking care of my mother since I was like 12, when she sent me to work and bring home money each week.

At this point - coming out was easier. I was still riddled with that OH FUCK sinking feeling as we discussed my life, as I answered her questioning me about a woman in my life by saying that I've come to the conclusion that I'm just not interested in women.

"Are you gay?"

"Yes."

"ok."

She shrugged and told me how she's always suspected. That she's always thrown hints out there for me ... like mentioning Ricky Martin being gay with kids. She told me that she still loves me, that it didn't matter to her - she hugged and kissed me and said she wished we had wine - because this was a reason to celebrate.

Actually - it was a reason to numb the intensity away. That evening was riddled with more emotion than I thought possible and it was 6am before I felt I had calmed down enough to fall asleep.

But even as I type this, I have to mentally put my grown man on when I think about having received confirmation that my mom never really wanted me. If you've followed JACK into The Refined Ghetto, you know that I've always known that she didn't ... but hearing her say it? That's a different story.

But like I said in my previous post - I'm paving the way for the rest of the people in my family who are in the closet ... just come on out and stop living in misery. It will be ok ... you're not the first one.