One Journey Was Not Enough

I have two daughters.  The oldest, and the one I’ve shared about my journey so far coping with her homosexuality, is Brandy.  Brandy says she is a “femme”.   She looks like every other young feminine lady, except she is more beautiful, of course.  Brandy was always a strong willed child, and was certainly the most difficult one to raise, especially during her teen years.  She is an extravert.  She is very easy to get close to, sharing easily what she thinks and feels.  She is also very emotional.  Fortunately, she is able to talk thru when she is sad and usually feels better as a result.  She is charming, very loyal and affirming to those she loves.  I absolutely love spending time with her. 

My second and youngest daughter is two years younger than her sister.  Her name is Jenise.   She is like me, an introvert.  While Brandy was living at home, Jenise was much more compliant and was very sensitive about pleasing Mommy.  She did great in school and had strong ethics, especially around lying.  She was one of the most honest teenagers you would ever meet.  She continues to have very good ethics.  She is very supportive, compassionate and sensitive.  She is very smart and has a unique, silly sense of humor.   

I knew Jenise had kissed girls, but she would avoid the subject when I would try to talk to her about it.  Brandy had told me Jenise thought she was bi-sexual, but Jenise would only tell me she liked boys.  She didn’t want to disappoint or upset me.  She had somewhat long relationships with boyfriends, so it was easy to downplay the significance of her kissing girls.  Wasn’t that a new fad, like Brittney Spears and Madonna kissing each other during a show?  Besides, I had to hang onto the dream of the typical grandmother scenario and vision I had for at least one of my daughters.  Denial comes so easily. 

A few years into my journey around Brandy, I began an additional journey that had a new twist.  Jenise came home with her hair cut to her ears.   She looked like what I thought was the stereotypical lesbian, which is referred to as “butch”.   My denial took a strong slap to the face.  I would’ve never dreamed that I would be so upset about a haircut.  I had seen my daughters with various styles and hair colors that I didn’t particularly like, but this was so different.  I unintentionally started rejecting Jenise and I became depressed again.   You would’ve thought  I had learned enough with Brandy, but no.  I still had much more to learn.

I learned that I had been in deep denial about Jenise, and also had some left with Brandy.  I had somehow, somewhat convinced myself that if they kept it to themselves and didn’t appear outwardly gay, that it somehow made it different, better.  I learned how embarrassed I was about my daughters being gay.  I had deep rooted prejudices against gays.  I didn’t know it was so deep.  After all, “I had a few gay friends”.  You cannot unconditionally love someone and be prejudice at the same time.  I had much more growing to do.