Amanda Johnston - Just like Uncle Bubba

 

 

One day, when my daughter was in middle school, she told me she had something really important that she wanted to talk with me about. Now, if you have any kids in middle school, you know, it could be anything. My mind started to run through the possibilities. Could it be drugs? Was there some drama with her friends at school? Could it be drugs? But I said, no, she came to me. She wants to talk about it. She'll say when she's ready.” 

 

So, one morning, we got dressed. We put on our usual outfits. I put on my business casual uniform, black cardigan, comfortable slacks, flats. My daughter put on her usual very stylish outfit of bows, colorful bows, that covered her whole head and suspenders and a tennis skirt and converse. We went outside, got in the car and headed to school. 

 

Now, usually, in the car, we're listening to the radio, and we go back and forth about what to listen to. I want to listen to NPR, she wants to listen to her favorite K-pop group. She usually wins. But this day, it was quiet and the radio stayed off. It was silent, except for her breathing. I could hear her breathing awkwardly, and I felt her eyes on me when she said, “Mom, I'm gay.” I thought about what I should say, but I kept my eyes on the road and just kept driving towards school. I also thought about my childhood. 

 

See, I moved to Austin from East St. Louis in the early 1980s with my mom. I was four years old. I had never been to Texas, and I didn't know what to expect, but my mom promised me that we would get all new stuff, including people, people who would become our family. Now, one of those people was my mom's roommate, Uncle Bubba. 

 

Uncle Bubba was amazing. Uncle Bubba was as big as the door. He had red hair, a red beard, red chest hair that peeked out over his fancy dress shirts. He had a gold chain that would sparkle when the light hit it. And I fell in love with him immediately. He and my mom would take me everywhere, all over Austin. And one day, they took me to Zilker Park. It was my first time going to Zilker Park. And at Zilker park, there was an ice cream stand and a big train that went around the park. So, Uncle Bubba got us two cones and tickets for the train. It was perfect. 

 

We got on the train. And it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. I was enjoying my ice cream. People were playing in big fields where they were playing soccer and throwing frisbees and flying kites. And right when that train got to those fields, Uncle Bubba leaned and almost fell off the train. He started yelling at some man, he said, “I could just lick you.” [audience laughter] I look and I see this man, this beautiful, muscular man in little bitty shorts and no shirt on, and he's sweaty because he's playing with his friends, and he looks back at us and he smiles at us. And the train keeps going. 

 

Now, mind you, I'm this big, and I don't know what's going on, but I asked Uncle Bubba, I said, why do you want to lick that man? [audience laughter] And he just laughs at me and he says, “You eat your ice cream. That's for me.” [audience laughter] I said, okay. It made sense. I really liked my ice cream. He really liked that man. It was a great day. 

 

Well, at the same time, I started going to church. Now, I didn't really like going to church, but one of my best friends went to church and I wanted to be with her on the weekends. One of the conditions of me being with her on the weekends was that we had to go to church. I was a tomboy, so I didn't like that they made me wear dresses and pantyhose. It just wasn't my thing. But I did it, again, so I could be with my friend and we could play after. 

 

The sermons just washed over me, really, in one ear and out the other, but there was one sermon in particular that stuck. I remember it, because the preacher was angry. I had never been in a place full of so many people that I loved with so much anger and hate. He was banging on the podium when he spoke. He spat when he spoke. I remember him saying, “It's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.” 

 

I was afraid, because I didn't understand everything that was going on, but I knew he was talking about my Uncle Bubba. Uncle Bubba was more like Adam and Steve. Again, I was this big. I didn't know what to say, but I knew I was scared and I was angry. But I didn't want to upset my friend, and I didn't want to upset my mom and I definitely didn't want to upset Uncle Bubba, so, I didn't say anything. I kept my mouth shut, just tucked it deep inside. 

 

I remember feeling like that again when I was in middle school. I was in gym, and we had just went back to the locker rooms and all the girls were getting dressed and reapplying their makeup. There was one girl in particular I couldn't stop staring at. She was beautiful. I didn't know what I was feeling, but I was stuck. I couldn't move. I must have stared just a little too long, because she caught me staring and she said, “Oh, what are you staring at, dyke?” And I couldn't move. 

 

And then, other girls started saying it too, “Ugh. Yeah. What are you looking at? What are you looking at, dyke? When I finally was able to speak, I said, no, no, no, no, no. It's not like that. I just think she's pretty. She's just pretty. I grabbed my clothes and I got out of there. I started changing in the bathroom and avoiding the locker room altogether. 

 

See, back in the 1980s, they didn't have pride clubs or support groups where kids could figure out what they were feeling. I didn't know any other gay kids. I only had Uncle Bubba as a reference. I didn't know how he was able to live like that, so out and so open. So, again, I stayed quiet, kept my mouth shut and tucked it down. I didn't know how to verbalize that I was bisexual. Since I was still attracted to boys, I figured, “Hey, I'll just keep dating boys,” and that's what I did. 

 

In high school, I got pregnant with my first daughter. And then, I decided that was it. This is my job. This is what I do. I'm going to work hard and take care of her. I'm not even going to worry about dating. I'll be like my mom and me, just the two of us. Of course, that's when I met my husband. 

 

We didn't date long. Only for about four months. But he was my person. He was everything. I didn't tell him about me being bisexual, because what did it matter? I'd found my person and we'd gotten married. But at the same time, we had another daughter. I was building our family, and I was growing as a writer and a poet, and I was thriving in a community of queer artists and activists. It just amplified how silent I really was being that I hadn't truly said my sexuality. 

 

I knew that I would have to tell my husband. So, that year, we went to dinner for New Year's Eve. We went to Dave & Buster's. Not especially fancy place, but it's one of the places we went when we were dating, and it was awesome. We played games and felt like big kids. So, we were sitting there at the table, and I was looking across at my love, and I thought, he doesn't know. I have to tell him. I can't go into a new year without him knowing all of me. 

 

So, I said, I need you to know something. I'm bisexual. My husband paused and he said, “Maybe you're just curious.” I shook my head and I said, no. No, this is who I am. I was so proud of myself that I was able to speak in that moment, that I wasn't going to hide anymore, that I wanted us to step into the new year together, fully knowing and loving each other, but I was still afraid. What if he left me? What if everything changed? What would we tell the kids? But he didn't leave, and we've been married now for 21 years. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

I came out to my close friends and family, but I still decided not to tell my daughters, because they were just too little. But one day, I would. One day, when they were ready, when they were discovering their own sexuality and becoming young women. So, back to that day in the car. My daughter. And she told me she was gay. I thought about what it took for her to say that. I thought about what she had to go through and what I had to go through for us both to be in that moment in the car. I knew it was time to tell her. I said, I'm gay too. I'm bisexual. 

 

It was like the car began to float. The weight was lifted off of both of us. She said she felt normal, knowing that she wasn't the only one in our family. And I said, that's just it. No one's the only one. You just don't know if they're not brave enough to say it, brave like she was, brave like I hadn't been, but there she was speaking her truth. 

 

She went on to high school, joined the Gay-Straight Alliance, became an officer and walked in the homecoming football game with her girlfriend. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

She wasn't going to hide in the bathroom. She wasn't going to hide her heart. She was free, and so was I. I thought about it. Love really can be that bridge over fear, or maybe it's a train, an ice cream with your favorite uncle who walks with his face towards the sun. Thank you.