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I know that coming out to one's parents can be traumatizing and stressful to say the least, but I thought I'd share my story to lighten things up a little.

Coming Out to Your Parents with Humor

I came out in 1993. I was 23 years old, sitting on the bed that I shared with my roommate (read girlfriend) and in the middle of a tedious phone call with my mother. We'd never been very close and this call was one of her irregular attempts to bring me back into the fold. As I listened to her go on about her noisy neighbors, unstable boss, and latest diet, my mind began to wander.

I came back to the conversation when I heard my mother loudly calling my name. She'd said it more than a few times before it registered, I guess. "Micha," she called, "Are you ok? Is someone attacking you? Is someone in the house?" Each question brought her volume up a notch.

"Are you on drugs, Micha, is that it?" What does one say to one's mother when the real answer is that I've been bored nearly comatose?
As I opened my mouth to reply that all was A-Ok with me, I heard myself say, "Mom, I'm a lesbian. I'm a big ol' dyke." I never planned on coming out as a response to boring conversation but that certainly brought her rambling to a screeching halt. I heard a small gasp and imagined her pulling her bottom lip like she always did when she' was mulling over something unpleasant or difficult.

"Micha, honey," she uses endearments when she's stalling. "Are you dating?" I didn't answer because I knew she didn't really want to know. Then she says, "Do you use dental dams? I woman at work says she always does when she... you know." Now it's my turn to gasp and pull at my bottom lip. What you need to understand here is that the mere fact that my mother is addressing sex is a miracle, let alone her daughter and lesbian sex.

My mother is the kind of woman who, when pressed, will say that my birth was the result of relations with my father, never sex. "Mom, do you even know what a dental dam is?" I ask, wondering how she got involved in a conversation where that was the topic. A beat or two went by before she answered. "No," she said quickly, "But it sounded very important."

Before I knew what was happening she was giving me her co-worker's name and extension and urging me to call her. It was all I could do to hold back my laughter and tears. I was amused and touched by my mother's attempt to be helpful and supportive in a situation in which she was obviously uncomfortable and unfamiliar with.

I can't say the issues between my mother and I were suddenly gone because of one conversation, but for those few moments we connected in a way that hadn't happened since I was a child. I'm often amazed when thinking back on it that it may never have happened if she hadn't been such a bad conversationalist and I a bad listener.

Source: www.about.com