Ellen, My Mom, and Me

A couple of weeks ago I was at my mom's house. We were sitting in the living room, both reading newspapers or something like that, and we had been quiet for a few minutes. Mom asked "Are you going to watch Ellen?"

Now, I hardly watch TV at my house, and my mom knows that. It's not a snob thing--I just spend too much time on the Internet or in coffee houses to have leftover time for TV. The TV is always on at my mom's house, since my 15-year-old nephew lives there, and TV has always been on in my mom's house since I was a kid. So I do watch some TV. We've even seen a few episodes of Ellen, but it's not a favorite. I think it's funny, but I wouldn't miss a date for it.

But Mom's question set off the "gaydar," because I knew which episode of Ellen she was asking about.

I answered (truthfully) that I was likely not to, just because of my usual TV viewing habits. I probably also said something about the hype surrounding the show was a turn-off to me. And that was pretty much the end of the conversation, mostly because soon my nephew came into the room and attracted all the attention as only he can do.

Afterward, when I had time to start piecing together conscious thoughts about the exchange, I wondered whether my mom had meant to start a more meaningful conversation. It seems that it could have been a gentle way to start talking about something we have never really talked about, which is that when it comes to partners, Ellen and I still seem to have diametrically opposite choices. Which wouldn't be worth much comment, if we were both straight.

It also made me remember the circumstances of my coming out to my mom — and yes, I actually have come out to my mom, a fact which even now surprises me. In April 1993, I planned to go with my then-boyfriend Peter to the March on Washington. Just before the trip, Mom had to go in the hospital for urgent hernia surgery. Peter and I delayed our trip till after the surgery, and Mom came through it fine.

Up to that point, I had told my family that I was going to Washington to visit friends. After the surgery, I went to visit my mom in her hospital room. She was still obviously tired from the ordeal, and the painkillers looked like they were helping. But we did get to talk, mostly "How was the surgery" kind of stuff. But finally she asked me "Why are you going to Washington?"

I answered "To be in the March on Washington." And she replied, "Oh." And that's all we said about it. The rest of the conversation wasn't unpleasant by any means, and I left with Peter the next day for D.C. (without telling my dad or sister what I told my mom).

In the four years since then, Mom has rarely mentioned gay-related issues in general, but never in a negative way. Before April 1993 she was prone to the negative comments, so maybe she's either changed her mind or become more careful around me. She occasionally asked about Peter, and seemed a little sorry to hear that we no longer saw each other when that happened. One thing I don't get anymore is accusations that I'm a monk, which actually happened in the early 1990s. :-)

On the other hand, we still never talk about gay stuff and me in the same conversation. We can talk about some general stuff, but the fact I may actually have a gay life doesn't come up. And I feel like I have to count how many times Dognut's name comes up in conversation, so I don't make my family uncomfortable by presenting me and him as two guys who see each other. Though it inevitably comes up, since one of us has to travel 200 miles to see the other and I do want my folks to know when I'm out of town or in town but unavailable.

I don't need to give my mom details of everything I do. I don't even think I need a *lot* of support from my mom, and I don't want to make her my confidant. But sometimes in conversations, I'm aware of holes in the stories I tell and entire events that I leave out. That twinges a little.

All the books say coming out is a process, not a step. It has already been a long process for me to come out to my mom, and it's obvious I'm not as far along as maybe I'd like to be. But there's another component to coming out, and I'd call that a "coming into"—coming into the phase of a relationship where I can share the gay details of my life with the same level of discretion that I share the musical details and the work details. Maybe my mom and I were trying to come into that phase a little further... thanks to Ellen.

By the way, I now plan to watch the April 30th episode. Now that the hype has died down, I actually think it might be a funny show.

—Charlie Songdog
April 17, 1997