Note:  Mary Lou is a small woman by stature and she appears very quite in even the smallest gatherings of people.  She’ll be the first to tell you that she really isn’t a public speaker by any means.  However, she underestimates how well she does speak publicly when she tells her personal story to high school students and to audiences at PFLAG meetings.  The following is her personal story, taken directly from her speech notes (as if she’d really need them), as told by her to some local high school students recently when she spoke as part of PFLAG Phoenix’s “Safe Space” program.
 

You’re probably wondering what a woman who looks older than many of your grandmothers could possibly say that would be of interest to you.  I realize there is a big generation gap here – but I’m sure many of you will relate to some of the problems I’ve faced during my life.

I was brought up in a very religious home.  My father was a quiet Lutheran.  My mother was a rather vocal Baptist.  And my grandfather was a Southern Baptist minister.  As a high school student, I didn’t like myself.  I thought I was too short, weighed about 35 to 40 pounds more than I now weigh, didn’t do well in school, and was a very shy “Plain Jane”.  Those were things anyone could see.  But, I had other problems I didn’t talk about.

One of those problems was being adopted.  I had no background.  This bothered me a lot.  Eventually over the years, all my questions have been answered.  I was especially interested in learning about my nationality.  I found out that I’m Northern European and part Sioux Indian.

Another problem was beginning to develop during those early years.  While the other girls were beginning to date boys, I found myself feeling attracted to a girl in school.  I was sure this was wrong, one of those terrible sins.  I thought I was the only person in the world with such feelings.  I did date a few young men thinking I would eventually get to like a fellow and those strange feelings would go away.

While I was in college, during one of my classes, the professor was speaking about “rare and deviate” sexual behaviors in humans.  Then he read the definition for a “homosexual”, “a person who is attracted to someone of the same sex”.  Now THAT really got my attention as I had never even heard the word “homosexual” before.  Now I must explain that the rest of this definition is no longer used – but it was taught back in the 1950’s and 60’s when I was in school.  A homosexual:  “a deviate; not normal; abnormal behavior; mentally ill”.  I thought about that for a long time, but finally decided I was normal, my behavior was proper, and I wasn’t mentally ill, so I couldn’t possibly be a “homosexual”.  I just hadn’t found the right man yet!

I eventually became a teacher, and after teaching for a few years, I did meet a wonderful young man.  He was gentle, kind and very quiet.  He didn’t sweep me off my feet, but I was attracted to him.  This man soon became the best friend I’d ever had.  When he asked me to marry him, I told him about being adopted, but remained silent about feelings I had had towards a few women.  I figured those feelings would vanish once we were married and would never reoccur.

After I quit teaching, we had a baby girl, who by the way is not a lesbian.  When she was two years old, we left the farm life in the Midwest and moved to Arizona.  My husband and I got jobs, and life went on.  My husband was still my best friend, but those secret feelings just wouldn’t leave.

One night while watching television, a late night talk show came on.  It was about homosexuals.  This was the first time I’d ever heard anything about sex talked about on a TV show.  A number of people were on the panel and they were all gay.  Not one looked or acted like a deviate.  They showed no signs of abnormal behavior or being mentally ill.  This is when it finally clicked for me and I realized who I was sexually.  I was 42 years old.  It was great to finally know there were others, ordinary men and women who happen to be attracted to people of their own sex.  But, I soon realized I had big, big problems to face.

Eventually, I approached a woman at work whom I had heard was a lesbian.  I wanted to know where I could meet and talk with gay people.  She advised me to see a psychiatrist or at least talk to my minister.  In those years, ministers knew nothing about homosexuals.

It wasn’t long before I realized I must tell my husband what was wrong and that I must leave.  When I told him, he said nothing.  I walked out of our home leaving my quiet husband of 19 years and our nearly 13 year old daughter.  I didn’t have the courage to explain to her what was happening.  I just thought they would be better off without me in their lives.

The following years were the angriest and loneliest part of my life.  It soon became a nightmare for all of us.  My husband suffered from asthma and one time nearly died.  Our daughter started getting into all kinds of big trouble, ending up for many weeks in a hospital behavior center for troubled young people.  We al went to counseling and a psychiatrist for awhile.  About a year after our nightmare began, my husband filed for a simple divorce.

I tried to drink my problems and guilty feelings away.  I was so angry, saying to myself, “Why me?  Why did I have to be gay?”  I felt totally alone.  I talked to no one about my problems.  I finally hit rock bottom emotionally and thoughts of suicide took over.  Thanks to my ex-husband – who stood by me, even though he didn’t understand – I didn’t go through with it as he told me he would always be there for me and that he and our daughter still wanted me to be a part of their lives.

My ex-husband eventually married a wonderful woman.  She’s our daughter’s “Special Mom”.  She not only was there for our girl when I wasn’t, but she helped her through many problems.

Our daughter is now busy with her life and we are all proud of her.  Some of you know how hard it is when parents divorce, but our daughter also had to deal with my being gay.  It was hard for her.  She went through some very rough times and probably suffers the deepest wounds.

As for me, I had a relationship with a woman I met at a gay church.  This relationship lasted only a few years.  I now realize I wasn’t emotionally ready to live with someone while I still had many problems to deal with.  After our breakup, I cut out the drinking and became a total workaholic.  But, I soon welcomed a new companion into my home.  She was with me over 13 years.  She was a real love, even when she barked out her demands.  Animals really have a way of helping us through those down times in our lives.

A few years ago, I seriously began to question what purpose my life has served.  I was doing nothing with my life but working and keeping my background a secret.  When I heard derogatory remarks about gays or other minorities, I just remained silent – afraid to speak up.

About five years ago, I took a bold step, for me anyway, and started attending PFLAG meetings.  I went with the intention of doing something with my life that might help others, but soon realized how much better I was feeling.  You see, after all those years I still had some feelings of anger, guilt and shame about being gay.  Those feelings are all gone now after listening to parents talk so proudly about their gay sons and daughters, and also knowing those people accepted me – just as I am.

I stand before you a proud gay senior citizen and ask, “Are we any more educated today than we were 50 years ago?”  It is time to accept and respect people of all races, creeds and sexual orientations.  Don’t make the same mistakes about people that past generations have.  Please get to know and understand each other.

Thank you.

"...a proud gay senior citizen"

Good for you, Mary Lou!!