My grandfather and grandmother moved from their home in FL last year into an assisted-living facility, when my grandfather's Alzheimers' finally got too much for my grandmother to deal with on their own.
That means that we get mail for them here, at our home, and usually bring it up to my grandmother at her current home, a long-term nursing unit where she lays slowly slipping into decline; my grandfather died in May at the age of 96. I visit her as often as I can, and sit with her as she struggles to breathe.
I won't be bringing her the letter from the FL Focus on the Family affiliate we got today, urging her to vote for Romney as "the candidate who shares your values": Florida Family Action and Citizen Link may think that my grandmother is a bigot, but she loves her queer granddaughter. And I love her.
A few years ago, while living in Boston, I met a wonderful person who cared for me and whom I cared for very much, and came out to my parents after almost a decade of being in the closet. My parents, who had previously seemed neutral on LGBT rights in general and quite supportive of other queer family members, told me I was wrong and should never get married. I was crushed.
They told me never to tell my grandparents: "you'd kill them." I'd been forming a close relationship with my grandparents--the kind I'd never been able to have with them as a child, since they lived so far away and we saw them so rarely--via letter. Rather than elide my partner and my life with them from my letters, I simply stopped writing to them. They were hurting, and I was hurting.
I wrote to them anyway. I told them I was queer. I told them I wasn't supposed to tell them. I told them I was angry at my parents and that I didn't have the family support I had hoped for. I told them that I loved them whatever their response was. I told them that if we were to stop talking to each other, we should at least know why. I told them I was terrified. I sent the letter, and I waited.
My grandmother wrote this letter back.
It's gotten me through the really bad times--the subsequent three-year battle for respect for my relationship from my parents, the loss of a job, my untreated clinical depression, my breakup with my partner mentioned in the letter, my move back to my hometown, my grandfather's death this May and my grandmother's subsequent decline, and the guy today who sat next to me in a government office and called me a carpet muncher to see if he could gay-bait me (it didn't work).
I am really glad that my then-partner, and my current partner, got a chance to meet my grandparents. I am glad to be their granddaughter. I am glad to be their queer granddaughter. And my grandmother is glad to have me, just as I am. I remember that when I'm tempted to give up on love, or frustrated with the daily, exhausting work of being an out queer person, and it makes my life a lot better every day.
I wrote to Florida Family Action, CitizenLink, and Focus on the Family, and asked them to take my grandmother off their mailing list.
She doesn't want your letter. She loves me.
If you are a queer person or an ally, and have received a similar election-year flyer, I ask you to do just two things:
- Write to the group that sent you the flyer, and its affiliates, and ask them to take you off their mailing lists. You have the power to stop their bigoted, ill-informed fears from coming into your mailbox and your home. Stand up and tell them you don't want any part of it.
- If you have a similar story or letter, please write about it. Talk about the hope that gets you through. Be honest with your family, whether they're blood or chosen.
Let them love you as you are and it might save your life. I know my grandma's letter saved mine.
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