Letting go

I started reading a fantastic book known as The Velvet Rage, by Dr. Alan Downs. The premise behind the book, so I was told, was overcoming issues associated with growing up as a gay man in a straight man’s world. Truth be told, I really didn’t think it would apply much to me. But I was interested in seeing how better to understand friends of mine who seem to really never quite fit in or be able to let go of past issues. But then as the pages began to flip, I realized, “Oh… My… God!!!!! That’s ME!”

The book touched upon a premise that I really never gave much thought to – the early personality development of a gay man and the original wounds that often occur years before sexual development begins. Dr. Downs noted that in his years of counseling sessions with gay men, he noticed particular patterns emerging over and over – many dating back years before puberty. In a nutshell, the author asserts, little gay boys are just different than little straight boys. Straight boys, in general, tend to be more outgoing, and assertive, and aggressive. Gay boys tend to be more introverted, quieter and contemplative, and meek. Straight boys naturally tend to be more physical. Gay boys naturally tend more towards emotion. And something that really resonated with me was the need for emotional support from parents. This is where the wounds take place – certainly they did with me.

Without question, I have ranted in the past about my relationship with my dad. Very simply, we didn’t get along very well. As far back as I can remember, I always felt like I was just not doing things right in my father’s eyes. It felt in so many ways like he wanted a particular type of son, and I just wasn’t him. While he was never physically abusive in any way, I often felt like I was a disappointment to him. While my sisters insist that this is how he was with all of us, I have to disagree. Sure, he teased everyone – that was just his thing and part of his personality. But with me, he was different. Dad would yell at me or cast a disparaging look or comment whenever he heard me say or do something “girly”. This wasn’t something other people saw. This was something that frequently happened when it was just us. He would roll his eyes or make a comment – there was always a very clear sense of condemnation and disappointment. Never was there a huge episode – but the repetition began to really burn. I really felt like he was ashamed of me – and that taught me to be ashamed of myself. After all, when you are a child, your father is like this all strong, all powerful immortal of a figure. And to sense condemnation is HUGE! I felt like I HAD to act a certain way around him, but that I could be myself when I wasn’t around him. Why couldn’t I be more like he wanted me to be? Why couldn’t I be into sports? Why couldn’t I be rough and tumble? Why did I instead want to read, or imagine, or play with girls instead of boys? Why was I such a failure and a disappointment? What was WRONG with me?!!!! My mom and my sisters always told me that my dad loved me, but I never felt it from him. The more I exposed my real self to him, it seemed like he would reject me more. WHY COULDN’T I JUST BE THE SON THAT MY DAD WANTED SO THAT HE WOULD LOVE ME?!

But then, I started reading this book. And I had a catharsis! My father was doing what he himself had been taught. That’s the sort of a thing a father does with a son – that’s what conditions and trains the son to be a straight man in a straight society. And usually – usually – it’s fine. Why? Because the majority of babies are straight. My father’s behavior with me was what many would consider “normal” behavior between a father and his young son. So what’s the problem? I wasn’t born straight. I had slightly different needs. What I *NEEDED* was more emotional support from my father. The more emotional support I needed, the more he would emotionally distance himself. Little gay boys often develop a very close attachment to their mothers (thus “momma’s boys), as straight mothers are trained to provide that emotional support. But straight fathers, by and large, are less emotional and more the disciplinarian – provider of the family. In short, the needs that I had as a young gay boy were simply not something he was prepared for. How could he be? It isn’t like the baby arrives with a label attached stating future sexuality and the differences in needs. How in the world could my father have possibly known how to provide me with my personal needs? He couldn’t.

So what have I learned? I have learned that I have carried resentment towards my father that I didn’t really understand. And I am learning now that this resentment is, perhaps, unfounded. Did the emotional wounds occur? Yes. No question about it. But was my father deliberately doing something mean or hurtful towards me? I would say no. And even moreso – was he even aware that he was doing it? While there is no way to be sure, I really doubt it. I really believe he was doing what he thought he should do. So is it right for me to carry resentment towards my dad when he wasn’t consciously doing anything to me? Logic dictates no. But on the inside, I still carry a very hurt and upset little boy who cries out for and craves signs of love from his father. I realize now that it isn’t right or fair of me to blame my father for not providing a particular need when he could not – COULD NOT – have been aware that such a need existed. But how do I explain that to the upset and hurt little four-year old still inside of me?

I have the feeling I have a long journey ahead of me in trying to reconcile these feelings of hurt and the knowledge that I have now gained. But in the long run, I am hopeful that I will reach an inner sense of peace. Time will tell, I guess.