I bite my tongue

My parents were never easy people, but I guess the world made them that way. Both of them were immigrants from Israel and came to the states with nothing. My dad was working for my mom’s brother as an electrician when they met. There definitely was no love in my household. Now my parents weren’t like some authoritarian dictators, disavowing love and emotions, forcing siblings to exchange silent hugs in secret corners, but there was none felt. Growing up, my dad would tell us “Listen, marriage is a business arrangement” (NP). So it shouldn’t have surprised me when they revealed that they were homophobic.

I can’t say that they haven’t grown more accepting now, but it has never been enough. I can call back every argument we’ve had, every Old Testament line that my mom would throw at me or the stupid “next people will be marrying dogs!” argument my dad favored. I had grown so sick of my mom saying “I had a gay friend once I’m not homophobic” (NP). I still feel the sting from every single time that they asked me, “Why do you care?”

“Why do you care!?” In the moment, I struggle. Do I tell them? They assume I’m straight due to the past girlfriends I’ve brought home, but they don’t know that I really don’t have a sexual preference, I’m one-size-fits-all. But I bite my tongue, not from fear, I stopped caring what they thought of me years ago. But I would never tell them. That would invalidate every argument I ever made to them. Their thick skulls would reject every word, they’d be blinded by the shock that they somehow raised a pansexual son (little did they know that my sister is a lesbian and my other sister is bi). So I would yell back that I care because that’s what people do, that they’re wrong not to care. I would ask them what happened to their hearts but I’ve spent the last 20 years watching them turn to stone and I know better.

My sister finally told them, but she is bad at communicating, courtesy of our parents. She says shes gay and my mom scoffs, waiting for the punchline. She looks sick to her stomach, later asking me if I was surprised. “I knew” I said. She sighs, another piece fits back into the puzzle of our broken family as she begins to understand that she is the one out of the loop of our lives, she is untrustworthy. The next piece of the puzzle proved far too difficult to her. As quickly as the understanding set into her mind, it was rejected as she asks me “do you think it’s a phase? Maybe she hasn’t met the right guy yet” (NP). I again ask myself if I should tell her, perhaps in solidarity. But I watch the wisdom she has gained from the last hour of conversation begin to fade again. All progress is temporary. We build the sandcastle of understanding in their minds only to see the tide wash it back away. Their minds are oceans of ignorance, and not even concrete can withstand the sea. I think back to the time that I finally convinced my parents that gay marriage should be legalized. They had no further argument, they conceded, I won, we won. But somehow the next day it was as though they had forgotten the entire conversation.

So I bite my tongue. Joke’s on them, ¾ kids so far aren’t straight, and my little brother is only 16

so we’ll know soon enough. But even if my other sister and my brother do end up coming out to my

parents, I will bite my tongue. Not from fear or uncertainty, but because it is a waste of time. They do

not deserve the truth. So I bite my tongue.