My hand reached for the phone, my fingers trembling as I dialed. A ring. Another ring. The third cut short as I heard the warm voice of home and reassurance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHello,\u201d my mom answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI have something to tell you. I\u2019m gay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the time, it felt like a confession tumbling out of my mouth, quick and heavy. Still, it left me out of breath. I dreaded that moment \u2014 the fear that unconditional love would suddenly become conditional.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m gay.\u201d It had lived in my heart for so long, immovable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So many others have experienced the same fear and shame. Yet in this moment, we are alone again, waiting for what comes next after months or years of preparing for the worst until the worst becomes the expectation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When Allen Schindler Jr. told his mother, she thought he was confused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Raised in Chicago Heights, Illinois, Allen joined the Navy immediately after high school in 1988 \u2014 a time when homosexuality was grounds for a swift discharge. He came from a Navy family, his grandfather having served in WWII. He followed in this tradition and enlisted even as he began to wrestle with questions about his sexual identity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The weight, however, of serving while living under a cloak of secrecy eventually burdened Allen. He\u2019d received and reported homophobic harassment under the suspicion of being gay. In a moment of self-destruction, or perhaps a declaration of truth, Allen made the prank announcement over secure lines \u201c2-Q-T-2-B-S-T-R-8\u201d and officially disclosed his sexuality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What Allen didn\u2019t foresee was the escalation of verbal and physical abuse he would endure from his peers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
While stationed in Sasebo, Japan, the harassment climaxed with a horrific hate crime. On Oct. 27, 1992, Allen was viciously beaten to death by two of his own shipmates. His body was so mangled and unrecognizable, a closed casket funeral was recommended.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Allen\u2019s mother, Dorothy Hajdys, was never given complete details surrounding his death by the men in dress blues who arrived on her doorstep. Instead, they only conveyed that Allen was involved in an altercation that resulted in his death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Persistent journalism by the Stars and Stripes eventually broke the complete story. LGBT rights organizations immediately flocked to Dorothy to offer support. Allen\u2019s mother now knew definitively that her son was gay, and had paid for that with his life. Six months later, Dorothy marched in Washington for gay rights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I decided to tell my mom the truth many times but always found myself unable to drive my thoughts into words. I now felt I had good reason to let her know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In 2005, I was ramping up for a deployment to Iraq. As dramatic as it sounds, I didn\u2019t want to die without my Mom knowing who I am. I also didn\u2019t want to lie on my deathbed with regrets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My confession met my Mom in silence before she awkwardly ended the call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For months, I didn\u2019t hear from her other than emailed Bible passages. I grieved the death of our relationship. I prepared for the worst, expected it even, and couldn\u2019t imagine how bad it could possibly be. There\u2019s no way to prepare for losing your mother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I eventually did deploy in fall 2005, but to Pakistan instead. We lived in GP tents that housed over a dozen of us, heated only by a single stove, a warmth that barely moved beyond the first few cots. It was a particularly harsh environment made only tolerable by the limited communication we shared with those outside of it. I had none.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Watching others receive care packages from their husbands and wives amplified my isolation. Like Allen, I felt the burden of having to conceal my sexuality. At this point, I\u2019d known two other sailors get discharged under \u201cdon\u2019t ask, don\u2019t tell.\u201d The policy and my own paranoia made dating an impossible reality. I\u2019d lost the most important relationship in my life, felt a crushing loneliness, and couldn\u2019t tell a soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When we finally returned to Okinawa, another few months of silence flew by before I received an email from Mom with a cold request: \u201ccall me.\u201d My heart shattered. While she had all but cut off communication, it was still unofficial. With this call, I was afraid she\u2019d finally discovered the strength within herself to make my disownment formal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Still, I was too desperate to hear her voice not to call.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey, Mom. It\u2019s me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She could not respond coherently through her wails of emotion. Eventually, she calmed enough to apologize clippedly through her sobs for the way she had treated me and pleaded for forgiveness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Through my own tears, I accepted her apology without hesitation. I had my Mom back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Weeks passed after our reunion before I finally asked what changed her heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAllen Schindler.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the time, I didn\u2019t know Allen\u2019s story. She went on to explain she learned about Allen from a Lifetime Network movie called \u201cAny Mother\u2019s Son.\u201d The film laid out his story, the details of his gruesome death at the hands of his peers, and his mother\u2019s journey towards truth and acceptance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The parallels between Allen and myself resonated deeply with her. We were both in the Navy. Both stationed in Okinawa. Both gay. Allen also died within a week of my birthday. Allen and Dorothy\u2019s story was the catalyst for our reconciliation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She shared her fears with me and I shared mine. She was curious about when I knew about my sexual identity. She asked me what kind of guys I was attracted to, and hilariously prodded about my sex life. We shared laughs and grew closer with every conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My Mom passed away six years later after a brain tumor progressed into metastatic cancer. I\u2019ve now mourned the loss of my mother twice in one lifetime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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