Today, I had one of the most honest, soul-deep conversations with my son. It started with something simple—his expression. His love for handbags, his painted nails, his choice to wear heels. But what it opened up was far more than fashion or self-presentation. It was about identity. Truth. And what it really means to love without condition.
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As a mother, I’ll be honest: this hasn’t always been easy. I had to unlearn what I thought I knew. I had to sit with my own discomfort, peel away the layers of assumptions, and truly listen. What I’ve discovered on this journey is something no book could have taught me: you don’t truly understand someone’s life until you’re willing to step into their world.
When my son came out, I didn’t immediately have all the right words. I had questions. I had fears. I had to confront my own internal biases. But over time, those gave way to something deeper—acceptance. And more than that, a fierce, unwavering support. Because that’s what real love is: bigger than fear, louder than judgment, and stronger than any outdated belief.
In our conversation, he opened up about what it feels like to live at the intersection of being both Black and gay. He spoke of feeling like he doesn’t fully belong—too gay for the Black community, too Black for the LGBTQ+ community. That kind of isolation? It’s a heavy burden no one should carry alone.
What pierced my heart the most was hearing about the thousands of LGBTQ+ kids who are rejected by their families, forced into homelessness, left to survive on the streets. Some of them never make it out. I saw the numbers. I read about the suicide rates. I couldn’t unsee it. These are our children. And they’re dying because the people who were supposed to protect them, couldn’t accept them.
I started researching shelters, organizations, and safe spaces that care for LGBTQ+ youth—especially those who’ve been abandoned. What I found was heartbreaking… but also hopeful. There are people out there doing the work. But we need more parents to rise up and do their part at home.
So if you’re a mother, a father, a sibling—anyone who loves someone finding the courage to live in their truth—please hear me: your love should never come with terms and conditions. Our children don’t need to “earn” our love. They need to feel it. Every day.
Let go of the fear. Push past the discomfort. Educate yourself. Ask questions. Sit in the unknown. Then stand with them—fully.
Because in the end, the best gift we can give our children is not perfection. It's presence. It’s protection. It’s the kind of love that says: I see you, I hear you, and I will always choose you.
Listen. Learn. Love. That’s how we break the cycle. That’s how we build something better.
