Purple Golf Cart: The Misadventures of a Lesbian Grandma (9 page)

Lesbian. Everywhere.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the young woman at the counter. “Tell me about this place. I’m visiting from Florida. Great kids’ section.”

“Thanks. We’re a feminist bookstore, “ she said. “Simone Wallace owns it. She has a daughter who is probably about the same age as yours.” She looked over towards my children. “How long are you here for?”

“Just a short time. My husband is interviewing at a school nearby for a band director position.”

“You know, the school district just cut many of its arts and music classes, so don’t be disappointed if he doesn’t get it. It’s pretty sad when the good courses get slashed,” she told me. “What brought you into Sisterhood?”

“I was just walking by and, uh, something in the window caught my eye,” I said cautiously. “ I think I really need to be in here.”

“Why?” she asked very gently, coming out from around the counter. I saw she was probably about my age but seemed younger. Hipper clothes, I think. Maybe it’s the “L.A.” look as opposed to the central Florida no-I’m-not-a-redneck-but-have-no-fashion-sense look.

“I need to talk with someone but we live near Orlando, not a very forward-thinking place.”

“How about calling Orlando NOW?” she suggested.

“Orlando what?” I didn’t know what she meant. The women’s movement had been marching right past me for years, without my participation, understanding, or even notice.

“NOW. The National Organization for Women. There’s a chapter in Orlando. Let me see if I can find a phone number for you.” She looked through some newsletters. “Yep! Here it is.” She wrote it on a slip of paper and handed to me. I tucked it away in Erik’s diaper bag.

Sisterhood Bookstore on Westwood Boulevard near UCLA in Los Angeles. 1979. Ironically, eighteen years in the future, I would be working at UCLA and sending students to Sisterhood to buy their books. Sadly, Sisterhood closed in 1999, not long after the giant Borders Book Store opened across the street from it. But I do believe that my finding Sisterhood that January of 1979 saved my life. Nothing happens by accident. Another survivor moment...

~~~~~~

The day after we returned to Florida that January of 1979, I started calling the Orlando NOW number, often. I called, and hung up every time someone answered. For weeks! Finally, in early February, I mustered up the courage to speak.

“Orlando NOW. This is Patsy. May I help you?”

“Uh, hi, yes...uh, I think I’m a lesbian and I’m, uh, married with two small children,” I stumbled over my words but it was time to come out. The colitis was raging again and I could no longer live a false life. In my fantasy, or rather, my stupidity, I figured I would eventually tell Jake I was a lesbian, take the children and move to Los Angeles to be with my family, figure out who I was, and raise my children in the company of those who loved me.

“I was married and I also have two children, sons. You called the right place.” Patsy told me about Orlando NOW. “We have a meeting this Thursday at 7 PM. I’m happy to meet you there and introduce you to others like us.”

I showed up. I was scared, excited, curious, and felt painfully shy. Patsy met me. “Ronni?” I nodded as she took my hand. “Come on in.” She introduced me to Debbie and Cheri and Randy and others who soon became my family of choice for the next several years. They helped me move when I separated from Jake a month later, and they included my children in our daytime activities on my visitation days. On holidays and birthdays, my friends showered the children with gifts and were especially kind and generous during the times when I had no money. That summer, Debbie, though much younger than I, became my first official girlfriend.

~~~~~~

It was March, 1979, two weeks before my 32 birthday. I had to tell Jake. It was time.

“Jake, I just can’t do this anymore. We’re both miserable and so are the children. It’s time for me to be honest with you.” I started to cry because I was so incredibly frightened. I know my voice was shaking but my heart felt strong. The Holly Near song The Woman in Your Life is You was playing loudly in my head. Yes, I was leaving Jake for a woman. That woman was me. Jake was silent, staring out the window of our dining room, not looking at me. We were sitting at the table.

“Jake, we have lots of problems but the biggest issue, the one we cannot overcome, is that I’m a lesbian.” There. I said it. I was perspiring profusely. Ironically, though, my tears had stopped. Jake said nothing. And then he slowly turned his head towards me as if the words were finally sinking in.

“What???” His voice was quiet, in disbelief. “What?” he repeated, trying to comprehend what I had said.

“I’m a lesbian, Jake, and I can’t keep living a lie. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“Just what am I supposed to tell my parents?”

“How about the truth, Jake.”

“What do you plan to do?” He was still in shock.

“I think I’d like to go to Los Angeles and live with my folks.”

“What about the kids?”

“They’ll come with me. They’ll be safe and happy with my family, and you can see them often.”

“What???” Louder. Oh-oh…he finally heard me. “You’re taking the kids???” His voice rose.

“Of course. You’ve not been an involved father so I didn’t think there’d be a problem.”

“Can’t you wait a while? Can you wait a while so we can figure this out?”

“Sure, Jake, I can wait awhile. Let’s figure out what we need to do and then we can decide.”

“Are you leaving me because I’m not a good husband? Do women do it better?” His voice was still soft but his anger was palpable. Though quiet, his face was blazing red.

“Jake, I’ve not been with a woman. I just know who I am. I cannot continue to live this lie. I’m sorry….” He glared at me then stormed out the door.

I wrote to my family before I told Jake. I knew I would need the support from the people who I believed loved me unconditionally. I was afraid to call them, afraid to hear their responses, but I needed to tell them. I wrote the first letter to my youngest sister, Bebe, the psychology major, as I took the first early baby steps of this new journey.             

January 26, 1979

Dear Bebe,

Hi, kid. I hope things are well with you. I’ve got to tell you something. I should have told you while I was there. You may be shocked and confused by this but I’ve got to start somewhere in the family. Being a psych major and hopefully the most open-minded in the family, you become the first to know. This requires no comment, no suggestions, no advice—only your love and support.

I’m gay. Two words and everything is blown to pieces. I’ll say it again. I’m gay. It’s something I’ve known and battled for 20 years. I can no longer fight it. As I grow older I become more and more compelled to live my life in honesty and mental peace. I’ve known about me at least since I’ve been 11 years old but I knew it was “bad.” Well, you can’t like yourself feeling like you’re bad or sick, therefore you can’t be a contributing productive member of society.

I feel good about me, Be. For the FIRST time in my life I like me. I’ve stopped running. The door is open and sunshine is barreling through. I’ve finally accepted myself. As I emerge from my dark well-padded closet, I find I have some self-respect. Years ago Aunt Fran told me, “Bullshit everyone else but to thine own self be true.” Well, I finally am, Be.

Ultimately, I wish to see gay people accepted in our society—without guilt or shame on the part of the gay person and their family. If society were more open, I would never have married. But the best reasons for my having been married are Berit and Erik. They are my heartbeats and my life-blood. They are the future and they are being taught love and open-mindedness.

You may be wondering if I have a lover. No, I don’t because it would be unfair to involve yet another person in this tangle.

I won’t tell the rest of the family until I’m free or if there is a court fight which would be blown up in the news. They probably can’t handle it, but I feel strong enough for all of us. I’ll never disown my family whether they disown me or not.

I’m sorry to lay all of this on you, Be, but please don’t be sad. Be happy that I’ve found the strength to be myself.

I love you,

Ron              

Bebe responded within a couple of weeks:

Dear Ron,

What do I say except for the fact that you’re my sister and you’re no different than you ever have been, and I love you! I have never had any negative feelings towards gay people in general, but I have never known any women who I knew were gay. What difference does it make as far as who you are as a person? To each her own. I am surprised by the news, but for some reason which I can’t pinpoint, I’m not 100% surprised. Maybe it was just some intuition or perception. I never really wondered about it, though. I knew when you were here that you had something heavy on your mind. I feel sadness for you and for gay people in general only because of the way so many people in our society feel threatened by it. I hope you have surrounded yourself with other people with whom you are comfortable and free to be yourself. It must have been so difficult all these years. I’m sure that you will still have the love of all of us. Our family is not the kind to disown any of its members for anything. I think everybody will try to understand but we’ll need your help.

I love you,

Bebe

My sister Sherry and brother Len wrote similarly loving letters. I didn’t tell my parents until after Jake and I separated. My mother wrote:

Dear Ronni,

I don’t know what to say except please give us time to think about all of this. You just didn’t sound like the fun-loving Ronni we know. Now I’m really confused. Your marriage to Jake was my first shock, the divorce an even greater one, but I don’t know just how to accept the new situation. Or that I will be able to understand it. How do you bring children into a world like that? How can they understand? We’ll write or call soon. Please give us time.

All our love,

Mom and Dad

As time passed, each of them, including my parents, became strong and affirming, and never tried to force me back into the closet. Years later my parents joined Ventura PFLAG—Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (
www.pflag.org
)—and they never missed a UCLA Lavender Graduation, the commencement ceremony I created where we honor the lives and achievements of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender graduating college students.

I sometimes think about those 20 years, from ages 11 to 31, in which I was so afraid to tell my truth to my family. My fearful self-talk words were if they know the truth, they’ll lock me up and throw away the key. With all the love that’s always been the foundation of my family, I can’t imagine now why I didn’t trust them all those years ago. When it was time for me to come out, they were the first people I told. I instinctively knew they’d be there for me even though they needed time to marinate in their own coming out process about having a lesbian daughter and sister.

I wanted to tell Mitra, my old roommate and beloved friend. I was still in love with her despite the years that had passed. She was married now and had two children of her own, but maybe.... That summer of 1979, after coming out to my family, I went to Los Angeles to visit them, and to see Mitra. Our getting together again was as if the years apart had never happened. We immediately and easily fell back into our old patterns of chatter. I told her that Jake and I were divorcing.

“Mitra, I need to tell you something about myself. I divorced Jake because I’m a lesbian, and I’ve loved you for 15 years.” There! It was finally out. I felt a sudden and immense sense of relief.

“Ronni, I love you, too,” she said without hesitation, “but not like that.” There was such kindness in her voice as she put her arms around me. “I love you as the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m flattered that you feel this way about me. I’m just happy that you’ve discovered who you truly are. Now you need to figure out how to be in the world.”

12. August 20, 1979

Jake and I separated when the children were six and three. I moved into an apartment very close to the house. Jake and I devised our own joint custody arrangements. We each had the children on different days during the week and we alternated weekends. Though it was prior to the joint custody laws in Florida, we created a plan that worked for us, and our intentions were to continue the plan indefinitely.

On the days I didn’t have the kids, I used my alone time to try to figure out who I was and how I was supposed to be in the world. I saw a therapist and developed a friendship network of lesbians in the Orlando area through NOW, but I struggled with my feelings and my actions. I felt like a fool, really. My thoughts overpowered me. What kind of woman does this to her children? I beat myself up daily, hourly, so confused, about whether or not this was the right thing to do. As a lesbian I couldn’t stay married to a man. As a mother, how could I stay away from my children? My heart ached constantly, so I learned—once again—not to feel my feelings.