As a child, my understanding of homosexuality was shaped by questionable sources such as strange people in eccentric clothes on TV, church sermons preaching damnation to anyone who strayed from the heterosexual norm. Embracing diversity is a term I would only come to understand much later.
My perception of gay people was shaped negatively long before I knew what it even meant. The derogatory remarks from the religious factions and main stream media, only served to support this belief, and it was strengthened by similar remarks from the people surrounding me, often family members.
Back then, I had no idea what sexuality, love, or acceptance was about. Sex was not something that was ever discussed in our rather conservative household. These topics never crossed my mind, and terms like “moffie” and “faggot” meant nothing to me except for them being the outcasts and freaks from society. They were to blame for everything evil in the world, and were sure to burn. It never occurred to me that the people being referred to included me until much later.
Younger Years
The first time I had a “wet dream,” I was convinced I had wet the bed. I was 12 years old and didn’t realize the sticky white substance coming out of me was anything apart from a normal pee. It had a different consistency and look, but what else could it be? I was so mortified and ashamed of wetting my bed that I washed my bedding in the wee hours of the morning and hid it from everyone for weeks.
My mom eventually caught on and sat me down to explain what was happening one morning at three am after waiting for me to make my detour to the laundry room. Although I was relieved to hear that it was a normal thing that happens to all teenagers, I still felt different. Growing up and understanding and accepting who I was often proved to be a challenging experience.
Broken Family Ties
My parents separated at age 12, the emotional turmoil took its toll to a whole new level, and somewhere along the line I decided to commit suicide, by drinking an entire bottle of Bob Martins. Luckily, we never really had many drugs in the house, and the lethal stuff was always locked up.
Suicide by doggy treats. Looking back, it seems silly, and at times I do feel I may have been a bit of a drama queen. The Bob Martins had very little ill effects, except maybe accounting for the amount of body hair I have as an adult, although I am pretty certain that belief is an old wife’s tale.
When your once happy family is falling apart, and you are a youngster with raging hormones, having a hard time understanding why you seem to be different, everything seems worse than it is. Being scared shitless that your parents will find out you are everything you were told most of your life, are evil, is no fun ride. It is traumatic, even if it is just kids stuff.
Acceptance
I had a small group of close friends most of my school life, but I mostly kept to myself. I even asked a girl out a few times to just feel a bit more normal, up to my senior years in high school. That is what young men do. It never lasted for long. The girls were friends, and there were many of them, but I would never be able to see them as anything more than friends. I definitely never felt any sexual attraction or the urge to copulate with them.
Having no point of reference to compare myself to, I struggled to understand why I was different and what it meant through most of my school years. I never spoke to anyone about how I experienced growing up in my early teenage years. The idea that somebody, especially my dad, would find out I was different, and were attracted to guys, most of them a few years older than myself, terrified me.
Coming Out
I finally outed myself as a gay man to my mom in my early twenties, about a year after my dad passed away. Coming out of the closet wasn’t the all-accepting experience I had hoped for. Her initial reaction was to ask me what she had done wrong that I turned out the way I did. It was a gut-wrenching moment. My mom and I were always close. She often had to work long, extended hours to make ends meet after my dad eloped. As a single parent, she provided as best as she could with the limited resources she had, with little to no help from my dad.
When I left her house after telling her I was gay, she informed the whole family, which made it easier for me not to have to tell everyone myself. It also caused a divide in our family that would never fully heal. For a few years, we hardly communicated with each other. I have learned to live my life in private.
LGBT Myths Debunked
The Challenge of Embracing Diversity
Sadly, many people, regardless of age, still live with secrets and are afraid of being judged, rejected, or hurting loved ones if they come out. It’s a sad reality that many countries also still prosecute and imprison same-sex couples, and that plenty of religious institutions still deny gay people the same basic human rights that they themselves feel they are entitled to.
There weren’t many of them, having a close-knit and small circle of friends, but after coming out, my LGBTQ family provided the love and support I desperately needed. Their acceptance healed much of the pain caused by my outing experience. In 2003, I met Dean. He was the second person I ever had a real relationship with, after my first fling burned to a sudden and abrupt halt a few years earlier. He was also the first partner I shared a home with. He passed away a week before our 4th anniversary.
Citizen Soldier – I’m Not Okay (Official Lyric Video)
When Dean passed from an HIV-related illness in 2006, my family declined to attend his funeral when I asked them. I am a loner, and I am comfortable being on my own. Waiting for the results of my HIV test, and dealing with my now deceased partner’s estate that was anything but straightforward, left me doubting my ability to remain calm and collected. I was emotional, and in a state of depression, many times having suicidal thoughts.
The thing that kept me from doing something stupid was having a half-brother who did shoot himself many years ago, and recognising the devastating effect it had on my family, most especially on my mom.
I guess I simply needed somebody to tell me it will be ok, a support structure outside the immediate circle of friends we had. Being a loner, most of these were friends of my now deceased partner, and the rumours that were being spread surrounding the circumstances of his death and HIV status were pretty unpleasant. The number of friends who were suddenly having HIV tests done was staggering, and in my state of mind I trusted few people surrounding me, with many questions and suspicions milling through my head. Where, when, and who infected him with the virus?
The Guilt Trip
Going back. I couldn’t miss it, Dean remained constantly sick for months, and the medical bills were piling higher and higher with no clear answers as to why he remained constantly ill, up to a point where he could also not maintain a stable job.
I compensated by working more hours to earn overtime to cover costs and bills for the last year that was unemployed, nowhere closer to answers, exhausted most of the time. He applied for job after job, unsuccessfully. One event that happened a few weeks before Dean moved on to the next realm, often crosses my mind, and the guilt of still haunts me at times, despite my sense to know better.
I was exhausted, tired, and felt helpless as the shits. Another expensive medical bill was looming. We could not afford a cleaning lady for a while already, and attempted to keep things tidy, not always that successfully.
Dean got sicker, and thinner, and weaker, and I could see him pining away in front of me every day, with no answers, no solutions. I did not know what to do any more to help him, or me, and by God, that alone made me so angry all the time. AIDS never crossed my mind, despite having many friends who were HIV positive, taking care of themselves and healthy. An HIV+ friend eventually suggested I insist on him taking an HIV test, which I eventually did, but I never took it seriously. We have been together for a while already, and had a monogamous relationship.
A few weeks before Dean passed away, I arrived home very late from work one evening, as I had frequently done for a while already. I walked into the apartment after midnight, which I had tidied in the early hours of the previous day. Dirty dishes were everywhere. Every cup, glass, and plate was piled up in the kitchen sink. Dean was looking ill again, he had an accident in the bathroom earlier at night for me to clean up. He was sitting and watching a late-night E-TV movie, probably too sick to fall asleep, and I lost it. How could I have known how sick he really was, yet, we still had no idea what was wrong with him?
The angry words that blurted out of my mouth were said before I thought, too tired to consider, or reason. Asking him in a fit of if he was really too bloody lazy to just do the dishes or clean up some of the mess, or at least just rinse and use one cup to drink coffee in throughout the day, as he was at home the whole day. Was he really too lazy to just do some basic cleaning up or cook a meal, instead of leaving it for me to do every night after work?
The next day, while I was at work, an urgent call from our GP informed me to get Dean to the hospital immediately, or he will be dead in less than a week. The HIV+ test was done earlier in the week. Despite the GP trying to get a hold of him to go to the hospital for a few days already, he had refused to answer his phone. He also refused to open the front door for him when he walked across the road to knock on our apartment door to see Dean. He’s medical rooms were across the street from our apartment. While he did not do house-calls, that is how low Dean’s T-Cell count was. He tried to get to him to take him to the hospital, unsuccessfully.
Ghosts
Guilt haunted me for years after Dean passed away. Did I not pay attention? How did I not guess sooner, I know the signs, I am familiar with the virus? How could I have been so blind, did I spend too much time at work? Could I have done anything differently, could he have still been alive today? Did he have so little faith in me that he couldn’t be honest with me?
The legal complications of my partner’s estate dragged on for another five years, and I battled constant thoughts of giving up in that time. Having come from a home where I experienced first hand how a suicide in the family could destroy a family, I never took the step, but I was so close, so many times.
Grappling with anger toward my family’s lack of support and my now deceased partner’s actions, or lack of actions, was tearing at me. In-between fits of anger and self-doubt, I also piled a mountain of guilt on my plate.
Life Goes On
Despite being physically healthy, my mental state was fragile at the best of times, and most of the time, I was feeling in a state of despair. I don’t think I was a pleasant person to be around, and I mostly kept to myself.
Through the art of street photography, a hobby I had given up as a kid many years before, I discovered and realized that even though it felt like it would never stop, shit does happen, life goes on.
Letdown – Empty (Lyric Video)
Everything my partner and I built up together while we were together was eventually lost. The estate was small, and not worth the continued fight against his family, either mentally or financially.
Departed Legalities
It is devastating how the powers that be will treat a same-sex partner if there is no legal foundation to back them up or support them after their life-partner passes away. Unless there is a rock-solid will and living-will, or a couple is in a same-sex partnership, the person remaining behind will likely be treated as if they have no rights to make decisions that affect their lives, or even to visit somebody in ICU because they are not related by blood.
A good suggestion, If you leave a will, make sure you sign every page. It is astounding how many people suddenly appear out of the woodwork when somebody passes away wanting something, even if it is very little. Some from the most unexpected sources, some from people you have never met, or didn’t even know existed. The amount of greed and toxicity you encounter will make you sick to the stomach.
Amidst the turmoil, my LGBTQ family of choice remained my pillar. A few friends I had for many years, from before me and my partner met, providing much-needed support during some pretty dark times. Though some have moved on or passed away, the support from three of my closer long-standing friends remains invaluable, and was my saving grace. There is no possible way to show gratitude for that apart from just saying thank you. Ironically, none of the friends my partner introduced me to while we were a couple, stayed in contact after his death.
My Family Embracing Diversity
Acceptance from me and my family of each other came over many years, after a period where we communicated very little for quite a long time. Despite all that, I will never regret my decision to be true to myself rather than just fitting in.
I still prefer to keep a lot of my private life private, but my family and my partner are my best friends and have become my backbone. Today, my partner is part of my blood family, and I often feel like he is the favourite, which I love every minute of.
It took me a long time to forgive that hurt from my earlier years, even though we never discussed it. In later years, I was as much responsible for the divide between my siblings and parents as their initial reaction to my announcement. My anger at the initial judgement when I came out of the closet resulted in me keeping my distance as much as possible, and sharing very little of my life with my family for most of my younger years. I still do that, but not because the fear of being hurt or rejected by them. It has just become a habit which suits me.
Deceased
My mom has passed away on 6 June 2022, but when she did, her love was unconditional, and it has been for a long time. I miss her terribly, every day, and miss the long telephonic conversations we had every Sunday, even at times when I really didn’t feel like talking or calling much. My stepmom will never be my mom, but ironically, she has over the years become like a second mother figure to me. After my dad passed away, to my surprise she and my mom became close friends, and also in-laws. When I outed myself, she never flinched, or judged, apart from bombarding me with countless questions about gay life whenever we spoke, as did my sister-in-law. It was weird, but also exceptionally comforting, knowing that there are people who have no problem in embracing diversity.
Understand How Kidney Transplantation is Performed | Kidney Transplant Procedure | CARE Hospital
My brother’s kids are the closest I will ever come to having my own, which was my choice, but that is a different story. They are the apple of my eye and my heartthrob. They have become beautiful and exceptional young adults, and his daughter now has her own little boy. My brother passed away on 29 February 2024, a few days after his 52nd birthday and a 9-year struggle with total kidney failure.
Death Sentence
Due to the events of the last few years, Covid-19, lockdowns, and generally just life, my brother was never granted the privilege of getting a kidney transplant, despite having several compatible donors in the family from day one. He died young, but did have the blessing of seeing his grandson reaching an age where he is getting the personality of a very busy toddler, and seeing his youngest son find a job.
The greatest challenge when somebody is listed for organ transplant, it seems, is sometimes not finding compatible organs. It is about cutting through the endless loops of government and medical red tape to get the procedure done when you do have a compatible donor.
Chin Up
A lot of ugly have happened in our family. However, if it wasn’t for those circumstances where my dad took off when I was 12, my brother’s kids would never have been, neither would his grandkids and great-grandson. A lot of beauty has resulted from the destructive events in the past and the hurt from my youth. Despite everything, there are no regrets for what could have been, only gratitude for what is.
My stepmom has also told me many things about my dad I never knew lately, it has made me realise he may have been distant because he felt he failed his children. He may actually have been fine with it, if I ever told him about my sexuality. She most probably had the wisdom to realise that I didn’t want to discuss my dad until the last few years, and that at times I have come to miss him.
Bitterness Will Swallow You Whole
Citizen Soldier – You Are Enough (Official Lyric Video)
I recently spoke to my half-sisters and half-brother from my dad’s first marriage for the first time in almost three decades during a genealogy research trip. I could sense that a lot of my dad’s actions when they were kids have resulted in a lot of pain in their lives. They are a lot older than me, yet they still bear the scars, and some of them still have not forgiven him, even after death. One of them I have never met, although I would have loved to.
She opted not to meet, and indicated via one of her sisters that she wanted nothing to do with my dad’s extended family or any of her half-siblings. Holding on to anger and bitterness often damages yourself more than others. I hope forgiveness finds them all.
Is Society Finally Embracing Diversity?
In modern society, I hope it’s easier for young people to be themselves, express their identities without fear, and live their lives. Being older, I also understand that a lot of the way my family reacted when I outed myself was caused by fear of difference and misunderstanding.
People were raised to fear homosexuality from a young age, and it wasn’t just from their family. They don’t understand it, and I have found that many hate-mongers frequently fear and hate gay people when they feel something similar resonating within themselves. They fear themselves, and therefore abuse others.
Our legacy is that the forces that are supposed to protect all members of society, have taught us that it is all right to judge other people for no reason. Little understanding is needed to do so. It includes the government, society, parents, family, the law and the law-givers. Choosing whom to love is rarely a choice, and the journey is painful and scary. Nobody decides to live a life where they will be rejected, judged or purposely hurt, but typically, it is not a choice. It is what it is, and it is already a bumpy ride.
The Fight is Far From Over
Pride Started with a Riot: Remembering Stonewall
Gay rights are recognised in more places than ever before. However, this protection was fought for over many decades. It can as easily be taken away by opposing forces as it was gained, and many will not hesitate to make that happen if they could. It can start with something as simple as the third-world Namibian Ministry of Home Affairs having a court ruling from 2024 recognising same-sex unions overturned, or banning transgender people from serving as active members in the military.
It is no fun ride, being, treated like second-class human beings or sometimes even less than human because of your culture, identity or sexuality or any similar factos. While we are blessed in many ways, both me and my parther had to face the double-whammy of prejudice many times in the past. In Namibia, we cannot reside because of our sexuality unless we seperate, or have a long-distance relationship. At least, our relatioship is legitimate and legally recognised in South Africa, at least for now.
That being said, the future for us often seem hazy many times, unclear because of our culture and shade of our skin. We have been blessed in many ways, but the future often seem unclear. Sins of an era long before our adulthood is our inheritance, although I know my parents never got anything for free from anybody while we were growing up. Before they seperated, they both worked long and hard hours, we rarely spent time with them except for month-end Sunday drives.
Never stop the fight for equality, never stop being proud, never stop being who you are to make people feel comfortable around you. There may be a time and place for everything, but only through discomfort can discussions ensue and open cards be dealt to balance the scales. If we don’t, the snow-ball effect will have us back to pre-pride colonials in no time. As it are, even while being protected in some places, same sex couple remain an easy target where some will still think dehumanising and killing them is ok.
No one should be judged or persecuted for whom they love or how they decide to live their lives. Harm none purposely. Treat others the way you would like to be treated, regardless of religion, sexuality, race or gender. Respect the planet, and remember it is fragile. There aren’t any others around. If there are, humans will most likely not have the technology to reach and populate these planets any time soon. It will be a better world for all if we remember, we are all people, and we only have one planet to share.
I select to believe that gay people are born because nature has to find a way of balancing and protecting itself. We already have a problem with over-population and a lack of resources on the planet we call home. Same-sex couples rarely have kids, except where they adopt and take care of children that do not have a stable home when legally permitted to do so, or go the surrogate route. However, my beliefs are irrelevant.
Gay Road
As a gay person, I still often find myself subconsciously searching for signs, words, and phrases that make me feel like I belong. I stopped trying to fit in a long time ago, so it may be a subliminal reaction to the confusion and judgement I felt growing up. Being in my forties now, I am very comfortable with whom I have become, but found it amusing when I visited Simonstown and stumbled across Gay Road. Wonder what inspired the street name.
When I looked it up online, I found little information apart from some property ads. I would presume that because most street names are old, except for the renaming of streets and areas to suit the African narrative, it was initially based on the word when it meant happy or light-hearted. If you know more about it, drop a note below. I would love to know more.
Old-fashioned gay adjective (HAPPY)
Thousands of anti-LGBTQ+ protesters storm Georgia Pride festival
We had a gay old-time down at the dance hall.
If a place is gay, it is bright and attractive:
The streets were gay and full of people.
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Embracing Diversity: Out Of The Closet
Copyright © Anthony Gillespie
As a child, my understanding of homosexuality was shaped by questionable sources such as strange people in eccentric clothes on TV, church sermons preaching damnation to anyone who strayed from the heterosexual norm. Embracing diversity is a term I would only come to understand much later.
My perception of gay people was shaped negatively long before I knew what it even meant. The derogatory remarks from the religious factions and main stream media, only served to support this belief, and it was strengthened by similar remarks from the people surrounding me, often family members.
Back then, I had no idea what sexuality, love, or acceptance was about. Sex was not something that was ever discussed in our rather conservative household. These topics never crossed my mind, and terms like “moffie” and “faggot” meant nothing to me except for them being the outcasts and freaks from society. They were to blame for everything evil in the world, and were sure to burn. It never occurred to me that the people being referred to included me until much later.
Younger Years
The first time I had a “wet dream,” I was convinced I had wet the bed. I was 12 years old and didn’t realize the sticky white substance coming out of me was anything apart from a normal pee. It had a different consistency and look, but what else could it be? I was so mortified and ashamed of wetting my bed that I washed my bedding in the wee hours of the morning and hid it from everyone for weeks.
My mom eventually caught on and sat me down to explain what was happening one morning at three am after waiting for me to make my detour to the laundry room. Although I was relieved to hear that it was a normal thing that happens to all teenagers, I still felt different. Growing up and understanding and accepting who I was often proved to be a challenging experience.
Broken Family Ties
My parents separated at age 12, the emotional turmoil took its toll to a whole new level, and somewhere along the line I decided to commit suicide, by drinking an entire bottle of Bob Martins. Luckily, we never really had many drugs in the house, and the lethal stuff was always locked up.
Suicide by doggy treats. Looking back, it seems silly, and at times I do feel I may have been a bit of a drama queen. The Bob Martins had very little ill effects, except maybe accounting for the amount of body hair I have as an adult, although I am pretty certain that belief is an old wife’s tale.
When your once happy family is falling apart, and you are a youngster with raging hormones, having a hard time understanding why you seem to be different, everything seems worse than it is. Being scared shitless that your parents will find out you are everything you were told most of your life, are evil, is no fun ride. It is traumatic, even if it is just kids stuff.
Acceptance
I had a small group of close friends most of my school life, but I mostly kept to myself. I even asked a girl out a few times to just feel a bit more normal, up to my senior years in high school. That is what young men do. It never lasted for long. The girls were friends, and there were many of them, but I would never be able to see them as anything more than friends. I definitely never felt any sexual attraction or the urge to copulate with them.
Having no point of reference to compare myself to, I struggled to understand why I was different and what it meant through most of my school years. I never spoke to anyone about how I experienced growing up in my early teenage years. The idea that somebody, especially my dad, would find out I was different, and were attracted to guys, most of them a few years older than myself, terrified me.
Coming Out
I finally outed myself as a gay man to my mom in my early twenties, about a year after my dad passed away. Coming out of the closet wasn’t the all-accepting experience I had hoped for. Her initial reaction was to ask me what she had done wrong that I turned out the way I did. It was a gut-wrenching moment. My mom and I were always close. She often had to work long, extended hours to make ends meet after my dad eloped. As a single parent, she provided as best as she could with the limited resources she had, with little to no help from my dad.
When I left her house after telling her I was gay, she informed the whole family, which made it easier for me not to have to tell everyone myself. It also caused a divide in our family that would never fully heal. For a few years, we hardly communicated with each other. I have learned to live my life in private.
The Challenge of Embracing Diversity
Sadly, many people, regardless of age, still live with secrets and are afraid of being judged, rejected, or hurting loved ones if they come out. It’s a sad reality that many countries also still prosecute and imprison same-sex couples, and that plenty of religious institutions still deny gay people the same basic human rights that they themselves feel they are entitled to.
There weren’t many of them, having a close-knit and small circle of friends, but after coming out, my LGBTQ family provided the love and support I desperately needed. Their acceptance healed much of the pain caused by my outing experience. In 2003, I met Dean. He was the second person I ever had a real relationship with, after my first fling burned to a sudden and abrupt halt a few years earlier. He was also the first partner I shared a home with. He passed away a week before our 4th anniversary.
Loss
When Dean passed from an HIV-related illness in 2006, my family declined to attend his funeral when I asked them. I am a loner, and I am comfortable being on my own. Waiting for the results of my HIV test, and dealing with my now deceased partner’s estate that was anything but straightforward, left me doubting my ability to remain calm and collected. I was emotional, and in a state of depression, many times having suicidal thoughts.
The thing that kept me from doing something stupid was having a half-brother who did shoot himself many years ago, and recognising the devastating effect it had on my family, most especially on my mom.
I guess I simply needed somebody to tell me it will be ok, a support structure outside the immediate circle of friends we had. Being a loner, most of these were friends of my now deceased partner, and the rumours that were being spread surrounding the circumstances of his death and HIV status were pretty unpleasant. The number of friends who were suddenly having HIV tests done was staggering, and in my state of mind I trusted few people surrounding me, with many questions and suspicions milling through my head. Where, when, and who infected him with the virus?
The Guilt Trip
Going back. I couldn’t miss it, Dean remained constantly sick for months, and the medical bills were piling higher and higher with no clear answers as to why he remained constantly ill, up to a point where he could also not maintain a stable job.
I compensated by working more hours to earn overtime to cover costs and bills for the last year that was unemployed, nowhere closer to answers, exhausted most of the time. He applied for job after job, unsuccessfully. One event that happened a few weeks before Dean moved on to the next realm, often crosses my mind, and the guilt of still haunts me at times, despite my sense to know better.
I was exhausted, tired, and felt helpless as the shits. Another expensive medical bill was looming. We could not afford a cleaning lady for a while already, and attempted to keep things tidy, not always that successfully.
Dean got sicker, and thinner, and weaker, and I could see him pining away in front of me every day, with no answers, no solutions. I did not know what to do any more to help him, or me, and by God, that alone made me so angry all the time. AIDS never crossed my mind, despite having many friends who were HIV positive, taking care of themselves and healthy. An HIV+ friend eventually suggested I insist on him taking an HIV test, which I eventually did, but I never took it seriously. We have been together for a while already, and had a monogamous relationship.
A few weeks before Dean passed away, I arrived home very late from work one evening, as I had frequently done for a while already. I walked into the apartment after midnight, which I had tidied in the early hours of the previous day. Dirty dishes were everywhere. Every cup, glass, and plate was piled up in the kitchen sink. Dean was looking ill again, he had an accident in the bathroom earlier at night for me to clean up. He was sitting and watching a late-night E-TV movie, probably too sick to fall asleep, and I lost it. How could I have known how sick he really was, yet, we still had no idea what was wrong with him?
The angry words that blurted out of my mouth were said before I thought, too tired to consider, or reason. Asking him in a fit of if he was really too bloody lazy to just do the dishes or clean up some of the mess, or at least just rinse and use one cup to drink coffee in throughout the day, as he was at home the whole day. Was he really too lazy to just do some basic cleaning up or cook a meal, instead of leaving it for me to do every night after work?
The next day, while I was at work, an urgent call from our GP informed me to get Dean to the hospital immediately, or he will be dead in less than a week. The HIV+ test was done earlier in the week. Despite the GP trying to get a hold of him to go to the hospital for a few days already, he had refused to answer his phone. He also refused to open the front door for him when he walked across the road to knock on our apartment door to see Dean. He’s medical rooms were across the street from our apartment. While he did not do house-calls, that is how low Dean’s T-Cell count was. He tried to get to him to take him to the hospital, unsuccessfully.
Ghosts
Guilt haunted me for years after Dean passed away. Did I not pay attention? How did I not guess sooner, I know the signs, I am familiar with the virus? How could I have been so blind, did I spend too much time at work? Could I have done anything differently, could he have still been alive today? Did he have so little faith in me that he couldn’t be honest with me?
The legal complications of my partner’s estate dragged on for another five years, and I battled constant thoughts of giving up in that time. Having come from a home where I experienced first hand how a suicide in the family could destroy a family, I never took the step, but I was so close, so many times.
Grappling with anger toward my family’s lack of support and my now deceased partner’s actions, or lack of actions, was tearing at me. In-between fits of anger and self-doubt, I also piled a mountain of guilt on my plate.
Life Goes On
Despite being physically healthy, my mental state was fragile at the best of times, and most of the time, I was feeling in a state of despair. I don’t think I was a pleasant person to be around, and I mostly kept to myself.
Through the art of street photography, a hobby I had given up as a kid many years before, I discovered and realized that even though it felt like it would never stop, shit does happen, life goes on.
Everything my partner and I built up together while we were together was eventually lost. The estate was small, and not worth the continued fight against his family, either mentally or financially.
Departed Legalities
It is devastating how the powers that be will treat a same-sex partner if there is no legal foundation to back them up or support them after their life-partner passes away. Unless there is a rock-solid will and living-will, or a couple is in a same-sex partnership, the person remaining behind will likely be treated as if they have no rights to make decisions that affect their lives, or even to visit somebody in ICU because they are not related by blood.
A good suggestion, If you leave a will, make sure you sign every page. It is astounding how many people suddenly appear out of the woodwork when somebody passes away wanting something, even if it is very little. Some from the most unexpected sources, some from people you have never met, or didn’t even know existed. The amount of greed and toxicity you encounter will make you sick to the stomach.
Amidst the turmoil, my LGBTQ family of choice remained my pillar. A few friends I had for many years, from before me and my partner met, providing much-needed support during some pretty dark times. Though some have moved on or passed away, the support from three of my closer long-standing friends remains invaluable, and was my saving grace. There is no possible way to show gratitude for that apart from just saying thank you. Ironically, none of the friends my partner introduced me to while we were a couple, stayed in contact after his death.
My Family Embracing Diversity
Acceptance from me and my family of each other came over many years, after a period where we communicated very little for quite a long time. Despite all that, I will never regret my decision to be true to myself rather than just fitting in.
I still prefer to keep a lot of my private life private, but my family and my partner are my best friends and have become my backbone. Today, my partner is part of my blood family, and I often feel like he is the favourite, which I love every minute of.
It took me a long time to forgive that hurt from my earlier years, even though we never discussed it. In later years, I was as much responsible for the divide between my siblings and parents as their initial reaction to my announcement. My anger at the initial judgement when I came out of the closet resulted in me keeping my distance as much as possible, and sharing very little of my life with my family for most of my younger years. I still do that, but not because the fear of being hurt or rejected by them. It has just become a habit which suits me.
Deceased
My mom has passed away on 6 June 2022, but when she did, her love was unconditional, and it has been for a long time. I miss her terribly, every day, and miss the long telephonic conversations we had every Sunday, even at times when I really didn’t feel like talking or calling much. My stepmom will never be my mom, but ironically, she has over the years become like a second mother figure to me. After my dad passed away, to my surprise she and my mom became close friends, and also in-laws. When I outed myself, she never flinched, or judged, apart from bombarding me with countless questions about gay life whenever we spoke, as did my sister-in-law. It was weird, but also exceptionally comforting, knowing that there are people who have no problem in embracing diversity.
My brother’s kids are the closest I will ever come to having my own, which was my choice, but that is a different story. They are the apple of my eye and my heartthrob. They have become beautiful and exceptional young adults, and his daughter now has her own little boy. My brother passed away on 29 February 2024, a few days after his 52nd birthday and a 9-year struggle with total kidney failure.
Death Sentence
Due to the events of the last few years, Covid-19, lockdowns, and generally just life, my brother was never granted the privilege of getting a kidney transplant, despite having several compatible donors in the family from day one. He died young, but did have the blessing of seeing his grandson reaching an age where he is getting the personality of a very busy toddler, and seeing his youngest son find a job.
The greatest challenge when somebody is listed for organ transplant, it seems, is sometimes not finding compatible organs. It is about cutting through the endless loops of government and medical red tape to get the procedure done when you do have a compatible donor.
Chin Up
A lot of ugly have happened in our family. However, if it wasn’t for those circumstances where my dad took off when I was 12, my brother’s kids would never have been, neither would his grandkids and great-grandson. A lot of beauty has resulted from the destructive events in the past and the hurt from my youth. Despite everything, there are no regrets for what could have been, only gratitude for what is.
My stepmom has also told me many things about my dad I never knew lately, it has made me realise he may have been distant because he felt he failed his children. He may actually have been fine with it, if I ever told him about my sexuality. She most probably had the wisdom to realise that I didn’t want to discuss my dad until the last few years, and that at times I have come to miss him.
Bitterness Will Swallow You Whole
I recently spoke to my half-sisters and half-brother from my dad’s first marriage for the first time in almost three decades during a genealogy research trip. I could sense that a lot of my dad’s actions when they were kids have resulted in a lot of pain in their lives. They are a lot older than me, yet they still bear the scars, and some of them still have not forgiven him, even after death. One of them I have never met, although I would have loved to.
She opted not to meet, and indicated via one of her sisters that she wanted nothing to do with my dad’s extended family or any of her half-siblings. Holding on to anger and bitterness often damages yourself more than others. I hope forgiveness finds them all.
Is Society Finally Embracing Diversity?
In modern society, I hope it’s easier for young people to be themselves, express their identities without fear, and live their lives. Being older, I also understand that a lot of the way my family reacted when I outed myself was caused by fear of difference and misunderstanding.
People were raised to fear homosexuality from a young age, and it wasn’t just from their family. They don’t understand it, and I have found that many hate-mongers frequently fear and hate gay people when they feel something similar resonating within themselves. They fear themselves, and therefore abuse others.
Our legacy is that the forces that are supposed to protect all members of society, have taught us that it is all right to judge other people for no reason. Little understanding is needed to do so. It includes the government, society, parents, family, the law and the law-givers. Choosing whom to love is rarely a choice, and the journey is painful and scary. Nobody decides to live a life where they will be rejected, judged or purposely hurt, but typically, it is not a choice. It is what it is, and it is already a bumpy ride.
The Fight is Far From Over
Gay rights are recognised in more places than ever before. However, this protection was fought for over many decades. It can as easily be taken away by opposing forces as it was gained, and many will not hesitate to make that happen if they could. It can start with something as simple as the third-world Namibian Ministry of Home Affairs having a court ruling from 2024 recognising same-sex unions overturned, or banning transgender people from serving as active members in the military.
It is no fun ride, being, treated like second-class human beings or sometimes even less than human because of your culture, identity or sexuality or any similar factos. While we are blessed in many ways, both me and my parther had to face the double-whammy of prejudice many times in the past. In Namibia, we cannot reside because of our sexuality unless we seperate, or have a long-distance relationship. At least, our relatioship is legitimate and legally recognised in South Africa, at least for now.
That being said, the future for us often seem hazy many times, unclear because of our culture and shade of our skin. We have been blessed in many ways, but the future often seem unclear. Sins of an era long before our adulthood is our inheritance, although I know my parents never got anything for free from anybody while we were growing up. Before they seperated, they both worked long and hard hours, we rarely spent time with them except for month-end Sunday drives.
Never stop the fight for equality, never stop being proud, never stop being who you are to make people feel comfortable around you. There may be a time and place for everything, but only through discomfort can discussions ensue and open cards be dealt to balance the scales. If we don’t, the snow-ball effect will have us back to pre-pride colonials in no time. As it are, even while being protected in some places, same sex couple remain an easy target where some will still think dehumanising and killing them is ok.
No one should be judged or persecuted for whom they love or how they decide to live their lives. Harm none purposely. Treat others the way you would like to be treated, regardless of religion, sexuality, race or gender. Respect the planet, and remember it is fragile. There aren’t any others around. If there are, humans will most likely not have the technology to reach and populate these planets any time soon. It will be a better world for all if we remember, we are all people, and we only have one planet to share.
I select to believe that gay people are born because nature has to find a way of balancing and protecting itself. We already have a problem with over-population and a lack of resources on the planet we call home. Same-sex couples rarely have kids, except where they adopt and take care of children that do not have a stable home when legally permitted to do so, or go the surrogate route. However, my beliefs are irrelevant.
Gay Road
As a gay person, I still often find myself subconsciously searching for signs, words, and phrases that make me feel like I belong. I stopped trying to fit in a long time ago, so it may be a subliminal reaction to the confusion and judgement I felt growing up. Being in my forties now, I am very comfortable with whom I have become, but found it amusing when I visited Simonstown and stumbled across Gay Road. Wonder what inspired the street name.
When I looked it up online, I found little information apart from some property ads. I would presume that because most street names are old, except for the renaming of streets and areas to suit the African narrative, it was initially based on the word when it meant happy or light-hearted. If you know more about it, drop a note below. I would love to know more.
Old-fashioned gay adjective (HAPPY)
gillespiea
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2023-04-09
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