I grew up in the theatre, and as a result was exposed very early to flaming men. When I was 9, my parents had a family emergency and on short notice couldn't get a sitter for the weekend, so they left me with Stephen, the director of the show I was in at the time, and his partner Vic. People accused my mother of child abuse. CHILD ABUSE. Because two gay men babysat a prepubescent girl for a weekend. Because in Ohio in the mid-80's, "gay" was shorthand for "child molester."
That same year, another former director of mine was diagnosed with AIDS. This was very early in the epidemic and misconceptions were rife. All people seemed to know was that it was a "gay disease." When most other people had abandoned Richard out of fear and misinformation, Stephen, Vic, and my mother were some of the only people that continued to take care of him, to visit him in the hospice, and to be with him when he died. My parents recieved DEATH THREATS-- anonymous letters shoved through our mail slot-- because someone out there believed that they were going to infect the neighborhood with that "faggot" disease. Honestly, I was pretty oblivious to all of this until years later. I came home from school once and they were talking to a policeman-- they told me someone had broken into the garage. It wasn't until I was 16 or so that they told me the whole story.
So unfortunately, I didn't realize until I was 16 or so just how heroic my mother was, her compassion overriding her own fears and a gross lack of legitimate information. I'm proud that when it was most important, my mother's humanity overrode midwestern suburban "family values."
no subject
I grew up in the theatre, and as a result was exposed very early to flaming men. When I was 9, my parents had a family emergency and on short notice couldn't get a sitter for the weekend, so they left me with Stephen, the director of the show I was in at the time, and his partner Vic. People accused my mother of child abuse. CHILD ABUSE. Because two gay men babysat a prepubescent girl for a weekend. Because in Ohio in the mid-80's, "gay" was shorthand for "child molester."
That same year, another former director of mine was diagnosed with AIDS. This was very early in the epidemic and misconceptions were rife. All people seemed to know was that it was a "gay disease." When most other people had abandoned Richard out of fear and misinformation, Stephen, Vic, and my mother were some of the only people that continued to take care of him, to visit him in the hospice, and to be with him when he died. My parents recieved DEATH THREATS-- anonymous letters shoved through our mail slot-- because someone out there believed that they were going to infect the neighborhood with that "faggot" disease. Honestly, I was pretty oblivious to all of this until years later. I came home from school once and they were talking to a policeman-- they told me someone had broken into the garage. It wasn't until I was 16 or so that they told me the whole story.
So unfortunately, I didn't realize until I was 16 or so just how heroic my mother was, her compassion overriding her own fears and a gross lack of legitimate information. I'm proud that when it was most important, my mother's humanity overrode midwestern suburban "family values."