Authenticity is something rare. Sometimes I think of myself as a powerful original, but then I step back and examine the thoughts, and actions needed to support that proclaimation. What constitutes originality?, is it our morale, our faith, our actions?; or is it something connected to the uniqeness of the human spirit. Are we to break down and disconnect the outter from the inside, pull out the humanity and spread it on a table. Expose the secrets, inform the lies and leave nothing more to each other for surprise?. Are we capable of letting it all flow toward understanding?. Are we at core, truly who we'd like to be, truly original; truly authentic?.
Last night as I sat with my father we discussed originality, ego and creating an identity. When asked about my own perception of identity, I opted to suggest that I do not believe in settling on one idea of myself, for I do not want to stop learning about who I am and what this life means. He told me that I was very wise for such a statement. Growing up; my father and I were not close, I would even say we held a very distant relationship. He was this big figure who would come home and yell at the family, and I was the kid who would mouth off and hide in a closet for fear of being shaken, pushed or intimidatingly heckled.
Though the years have passed us, I still have this idea in my head that I never had a father. There is this place within me where I cannot confront him on the damage and the lost hopes that I had for him and I. Today we hold a very .... friendly relationship. I am too old for this man to say "well son you cannot do or say or act out on this because ...". But I do respect him now for what it's worth. I find myself going to him for more support than I once did with my mother. And though he's pretty much stoned more often than not, there is a place inside of me where I know that I can go to him for the human / non religious view of life. There is however one secret to which we have not discussed: My sexuality.
The sad truth about closet homosexuality is that we end up making fools of ourselves in order to hide the truth from those we're close to. Half of the time I am pretty sure that everyone in my family knows my dirty little secret. I am dissapointed in the fact that anybody should even have to fear their family with this issue. In city/pop culture we are taught that "love is love", but half of the time our parents are too out dated on the issue to conform. I know that my father would not judge me for who I date and who I choose to love, for he is a man of age and he lived through the 1960's with passion and ease. My mother on the other hand, I fear would question me and hold her own view of my sexuality as an error on her end or a kink to which I will work out.
But it does not work like that you see; I have prayed in the past that I would wake up straight and narrow. But today I am proud of the person that I'm still becoming. And as I stated above, I hope never to truly conclude myself until the hour of my judgement. For it is in that moment that I will understand my errors at their source. In the end I am doomed to my own inauthenticity for being a closeted homosexual. But I am still learning, and I am still growing - I have no doubt in my mind that I am not gay, but I am now examining what exactly it means to be gay. Are we an image, a culture or a fucked up pack of re called barvie dolls?. What makes the man a man, where does masculinity leave homosexuality?, where are the gender boundaries within femme's and butch. What makes me a man ..... is it that which makes me truly authentic. When I look back on these years, will I then ask myself "was it all so nessicary to be so ashamed of myself around those who loved me the most".
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