Keeping it Real

WRITTEN BY BLAIR FJESETH

We have a pack of neighborhood kids who roam from home to home, play games, create outdoor adventures, snack-hop and check out whoever has the latest toy or video game.

The flock of seagulls, as I have deemed them, were in our yard recently playing some made-up ball game, when one of the kids came inside, plopped down at the kitchen counter and let out an audible "humph" to capture my attention. I looked up from the dishes and said, "What's going on, sweetie?"— a nickname I use with all the kids to protect myself from calling them the wrong name.

She uttered a just-above-whisper level, "What made you put up your sign out front?"

The sign she was referring to is an LGBTQ+ friendly flag overlaid with "You Are Loved" in bold lettering.

I paused and said, "We believe that people should be able to love who they want and marry who they want. We try to respect all people no matter who they are."

"Do you know anyone who is gay?" she asked.

"I do," I replied. "Lots of people, including my dad and my little brother."

She cut in. "And a gay neighbor"...

Did she just come out to me? I could see it in her face that she did.

I put down the dishrag and looked her square in the eyes – eyes that questioned my reaction, curious about what I would say next.

I wasn't sure what to say; that kind of information isn't surprising to me, nor is it something I think people should even have to do. We put a lot of pressure on LGBTQ+ people to declare who they are and, quite frankly, it shouldn't matter – you love who you love; that's it.

I was able to mutter something along the lines of, "Thank you for sharing that with me. You are loved no matter who you are and are always welcome in our home and family."

Then came the tears.

"I can't tell my mom. I've only told you and a few kids at school. My family doesn't like gay people."

At this point, I wondered again what to say. I felt like her mother would not appreciate me knowing this information without her knowing. I also felt scared for her.

I hugged her. I hugged her hard with the mom hug that’s intense enough to transfer a mother's strength to a child who needs it.

We had a long chat about the news, what's going on in other states to the LGTBQ+ community, the fear she had about that, the meanness of kids in school.

But then she started beaming; she began to tell me about the girls she thought were beautiful, the feeling of sharing something she had been keeping in for so long.

Within minutes the flock of seagulls ventured back inside asking for Bagel Bites and Izzys. The conversation ended, and she resumed being her usual silly kid self.

After they left that night, I felt so many things: sadness that we live in a place where kids feel afraid to be themselves, fortunate to be someone worthy of that trust, nervous about her journey and very aware that these kids are watching us regardless of how cool they think they are. They are taking cues from us, and we must find ways to help her and every child who feels different, weird, alone, sad or unsure of who they are and how they fit.

Blair Fjeseth is a working professional and proud Montana mom. You can reach her at blairparker.inc@gmail.com. Follow her Instagram @blair_mt for more adventures.