|Here I am again with yet another report from lunchtime at Roan’s school. Really readers, I’m sorry. But this is what I’ve got. Either you get a report from my Gynecological exam this morning or this report from lunchtime. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.|
Doing my usual rounds walking around and opening those impossible to open Go-Gurts, I hear one table full of boys saying, “Well, we’re getting married”. To which a group groan is heard and one of the boys pulls me over. “Hey hey hey, Roan’s mom! Hey Roan’s mom!” That’s me, by the way. I saddle up on the seat next to him and he says to me with a mouth full of food, “That’s gay, right?” Hmmmmmm. I’m not sure I’ve heard what he said exactly right so I let him swallow the food and ask him to repeat. “My mom told me that when two boys love each other, it is called gay.”
Let me just say right here in the smack dab middle of the story that I love my gay homies. I’m a girl that has always had loads of gay friends. I’m a girl that has accidentally as well as intentionally dated a few gay men, even setting up two of my ex-boyfriends with each other. (It didn’t work out so well.) I don’t know how it came to be this way being raised in a pretty strict Mormon household, in a small town with no real liberal influence anywhere in my life that I remember. Still, here I am and have always been – just loving my gay homies. Except the ones that are bitchy because I just don’t really dig anyone with that much attitude.
So, to recap: “It is called gay” has been said to me by a five-year-old in front of a table of five-year-olds whose parents I do not know and have no idea how they would like me to respond. But it seems very straightforward, because yes indeed it is called gay. So that’s my answer. Then he develops the idea further, “My mom also said that when there are two dads who are raising a kid together it is also called gay.” Yes true that is most likely correct, sir.
And guess what citizens? That was all. There was pretty much no reaction from the table of boys, they moved on to the next thing, and I opened another Go-Gurt that once again squirted onto my shoes. It was only on my walk home that I realized that maybe the exchange with this boy was meaningful. The fact that he wasn’t looking for if it was good or bad and the table full of rowdy boys’ reaction was right in line with that says to me that possibly we’ve made some progress. Understanding just that it is another type of relationship, and it is called gay seems like a step forward to me.