i’m coming out (again)

(just as a warning, this post is pretty long.)

As I stated on my to do list, I’m intending to talk about why I want to convert to Judaism. I still plan on doing this, but I am going to postpone it for this reason: My mother sometimes reads this blog (Hi Mom!) and I feel that this is a conversation I need to have with her in person before sharing it in the public arena. Hopefully this conversation will happen when I see her for the holidays, so look for a posting sometime later in the month.

As I contemplate the conversation I am going to have with my mom, I can’t help but think back to my first “coming out” talk with her. I had already come out as gay to my best friend, college friends, and sisters as early as a year before I talked to my mom. I knew that my conversation with her was going to be the hardest. On one hand, my relationship with her had been rocky for a couple years and was on the mend–I didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. On the other hand, despite our mildly estranged relationship (or perhaps because of it), I sought her approval and acceptance more than ever. Having been raised in a conservative branch of the Lutheran church, the mere concept of homosexuality is against everything that I had been taught at school and in church. I was concerned that, by telling my mom that I am gay, I would become a disappointment to her. Or–even worse, in my mind–that she would feel that she had done something wrong in raising me.

Before getting on the plane to see my mom and sisters in Ohio, I put together a packet of information for my mom. It included pamphlets on accepting a gay child, a letter from a conservative Baptist pastor outlining many reasons why homosexuality should not be considered a sin, and the latest newsletter from the PFLAG group meeting near my mom’s home. (If I am not mistaken, my mom never read any of this information.) When I actually told her, we were sitting in her car outside of a WalMart waiting for my sisters. I had spent the morning crying and nauseous with Rhea Rhea holding my hand and reassuring me. When I finally choked out the words through my tears, my mom said “Is that all?” In the three years since we had this conversation, this particular subject has come up between my mom and I only on rare occasions. It’s just not something that we talk about and, since I haven’t been in a committed long term relationship since, we haven’t really had to.

My Jewish coming out story–at least where my mom is concerned–happened in a similar way. I began discussing this with my college friends during my sophomore year (around the same time as my first coming out) and have had conversations with my best friend and sisters about it since then. The idea has come up in conversation with my dad in passing just like my first coming out with him–which went something like “Oh, and I’m gay. You knew that, right?” But, once again, I wasn’t sure how my mom would react and, therefore, had a hard time finding “the right time” to talk to her about it. This time, however, “the right time” found me.

Oddly enough, I was at WalMart shopping for necessary items for my apartment. My mom had recently driven from Ohio to Iowa to bring my items from her home and help me move in and I was on the phone discussing some forgotten items that she wanted to mail. One of these was a gift that she had given to each of her daughters upon graduation from our Christian Day School, a framed letter that read “Dear Samantha–I have everything under control. Love, Jesus.” My mom knew that I stopped going to church during college and hadn’t talked about religion with her the way I once had. In a way, I felt that this was not really about the framing at all. So right there, in the middle of the pots and pans aisle at WalMart, tears welled up in my eyes and I took a deep breath. “Actually,” my voice cracked, “I wanted to talk to you about that. You see, I’ve been e-mailing a rabbi.”

While others may disagree, I feel that “coming out” as a gay person and as a wannabe Jew are more alike than different. I struggled with my sexuality for a long time–researching the science and psychology of it, reconciling what I felt inside with what I had been taught was right, and reading about the experiences of other people who had felt the same way I did. By the time I finally came out, I had been contemplating my sexuality for almost half my lifetime. I came out because after years of wrestling with the idea, wondering if I could change and trying to be something I wasn’t, I said to myself, “If you’ve been thinking about it and struggling with it this long, then there is no question. You must be gay.”

My relationship with Judaism has been similar. My journey began with assessing what I was taught against what I inherently believe to be right, continued exploring the tenets of Jewish faith and beliefs, and reading about the lives and experiences of others who are Jewish–whether by birth or by choice. I’d contemplated conversion inwardly long before I’d ever suggested the idea to anyone I knew.

In spite of these similarities, I feel that this conversation with my mother will be much more difficult. My mother raised me in the Christian church. At least twice in my life–at baptism and confirmation–my mother made an open and public commitment to G!d to do everything she could to raise me as a good Christian and keep me in the faith. As I am embarking on a journey during which I will make my own covenant with G!d, I understand the seriousness and weight of such a commitment and can’t help but feel that, once again, I will be disappointing her.

However, there is hope for this conversation. While I was on the phone, crying in the middle of the WalMart, my mother said to me, “Your father and I raised you girls to be independent and to think for yourself. How can I be angry at you for doing just that?”

If only mothers were always this logical and understanding, right? (Just kidding, Mom!)

* * * * * *

A Topic to Consider:

While writing this, I thought about the common argument of sexuality being a choice vs. being something that one can’t help–that if a person is gay it is because they were born/made/genetically designed that way. I began to look at my relationship with Judaism in light of the same argument. Jewish scholars have “theorized” (not sure of what word might be more appropriate here) that a convert is a Jewish soul coming home–that though a convert may have been born into a gentile family or community, it was always their destiny to be a part of the Jewish people. I have never felt that my sexuality is a choice that I have made, rather it is something that has been a part of me all along. In the same way, I don’t necessarily feel that I am “choosing” Judaism inasmuch as I perhaps have finally found a faith that accurately represents what I have always felt. Anyway, just something to think about.