The Wedding: A Family's Coming Out Story (12 page)

Months later, after a lot of personal growth,
this same woman learned of another upcoming wedding. And she told me, “If they
don’t invite our daughter along with her partner, well, I’m going have to call
and have a talk with them.” Each bit of progress in the group was a wondrous
thing.

When our first class graduated they formed a
self-started parents’ support group, meeting once a month. As Mark and I have
continued to run the more formal psychoeducational groups year to year, many of
our graduates have moved on to the support group. And a year after the support
group was formed, I received a call from one of the parents asking me if my
husband and I would like to be a part of that group. She said that they would
be honored to have us. I decided that if we were to join them I would not
attend as “the professional” but rather as just another parent who happens to
have two gay sons. They agreed. In my mind I was doing it for Sheldon. Soon, I
discovered how very much I also benefitted from the contact with these
struggling parents. It became a springboard for discussion between Sheldon and
myself about our own boys. We got so much from the group. We tried to give back
too. Sheldon in particular.

You see, one especially righteous parent refused
to see his daughter if she came home with her partner. While Marvin
(not his
real name)
didn’t go to the extreme of sitting
shiva
for his
daughter, (the most severe rejection of a Jewish child is mourning their
“death” when the child has transgressed in some manner so unforgivable that the
parent never acknowledges them again), he had effectively cut her out of his
life.

Sheldon attended the group with me on a few
occasions. And I sensed that he saw this particular man as a personal challenge.
I know that Sheldon was disturbed that Marvin could close the door on his
daughter.

“I told you, I wrote her off,” Marvin told
Sheldon one evening. But Sheldon continued to work with him, with humor. They
became buddies in the group, sitting near each other when Sheldon came. Slowly,
Marvin budged. I’m sure it will be a long road for him, but I know Sheldon
helped jump start the trip.

SHELDON   
When I originally
attended the support group, it was more of a courtesy to Roslyn, rather than a
desire to seek comfort. Not that I thought I was beyond help, and didn’t need
to improve. I recognized at that point in time that although I was perfectly at
ease and accepting of my son’s orientation, I was not at ease in discussing the
situation with friends and relatives, let alone strangers. I attended various
get-togethers of the group and listened attentively, although, as is my usual
custom, without really talking too much.

Generally speaking, I observed that the majority
of the group were now accepting of their children’s orientation, although there
were a few strong objections. When it came to partners, though, they seemed
overall to be critical. Some were not comfortable that their child’s partner
was not of the same faith, but most were obviously uncomfortable, if not
downright unaccepting, of two adults of the same sex sleeping together and all
the other imaginings that go with that arrangement - especially in their own
home.

Now that Andrew had announced his intention to
hold their ceremony in Montreal, I had something to talk about. For the first
several minutes, the gathering was just as usual, people talking about their
experiences, their troubles.

One parent confessed, “My son came home with his
partner for Rosh Hashana, and I felt uncomfortable, what with them sleeping in
the same room.”

Then I spoke up, with what was certain to be a
new subject for the group. “I want to throw something at you, and get your
reaction. How would you respond if your son or daughter came to you and said
that they want to go through a commitment ceremony, but not only a commitment
ceremony - they want it to be a wedding. If they wanted it to be a big affair,
a hundred and fifty people maybe, and go through the same kind of celebration
as a heterosexual marriage - what would you say?”

Almost every parent in the group expressed their
sympathy.

“I don’t know how I would react...”

“Oh, that’s a tough one...”

“I don’t know if I could handle that...”

“I couldn’t do it,” another stated flatly.

And another, acknowledging that this wasn’t
merely a hypothetical question, offered genuine commiseration. “I feel for
you.”

I must confess that putting my question to the
members of the group was primarily motivated by a desire to prove to Roslyn
that my initial objection and discomfort was normal and that even parents in a
similar situation would feel exactly the same way. And frankly, I was right.

One parent, however, was very positive.

“Great. Why not?” he countered, brightly.

I took his enthusiasm with a bit of skepticism.
This particular father is a very nice fellow, and a very intelligent person.
His own daughter had gone through a commitment ceremony, in New England. And he
acknowledged having attended the ceremony with reluctance. He even refused to
participate in the proceedings. The way he depicted his daughter’s ritual it
seemed a rather iconoclastic affair. It was held somewhere outdoors, without
benefit of clergy. His daughter and her partner exchanged vows in a
self-directed, self-written ceremony. He described himself as sitting at the
back of the crowd, listening. And as it progressed, he found himself
comfortable enough to walk up to the front. So, as he painted this picture of
his daughter’s affair, with his sole intent being to offer encouragement, I was
receiving a very different kind of impression.

Now, he’s already been through the ceremony... I
thought to myself. Of course it’s easy enough for him to say, “it’s great, why
not do it?”  If it was so easy, why is it he barely even took part?

He had proved my point better than any of the
others. He had faced the same situation, and had initially failed his daughter.
At least I had stated from the outset that I would be there, no matter what.
All I was asking for, if not begging for, was a little discussion, give and
take, compromise, to show that my discomfort was understandable and perhaps
could be reduced if not eliminated.

When the discussion was over, and I looked back
at the various responses, I saw that I wasn’t going to have too easy a time.
Because these were parents of gays and lesbians who are accepting enough to
want to come to this group. If they weren’t receptive to something like this,
how was I going to face the music in the Montreal Jewish community, with all my
conservative friends?

That’s not to say this is a regressive city. Far
from it. Montreal has a well-earned reputation as a cosmopolitan, world-class
metropolis. It’s also a remarkably diverse one. Beyond the French-Latin
character and the English-WASP temperament, there are numerous other ethnic
communities, such as the Italians and Greeks. The Jewish Community, though,
holds a place of special significance in the city, exerting greater influence
than their numbers would suggest. They represent less than five percent of the
total population, but constitute close to a majority of real estate owners and
developers, large manufacturers, particularly in the apparel industry, and
major contributors to the cultural scene, such as the symphony and museums. But
it should be stressed that, unlike most U.S. metropolitan cities of today,
where Reform Judaism is the majority, and people attend “Temple”, in Montreal
there is a very small Reform population. Most Jews either adhere to the “Conservative”
movement (middle of the road, traditionalist, with men and women worshiping
together), or they belong to the “Orthodox” movement (strict and observant,
with men and women seated separately,) and mostly attend “Synagogue.” The point
is that change doesn’t come easily or quickly in Montreal’s Jewish community.
The population is more comfortable with knowing what to expect; even if they
are not strictly observant Jews, they feel more at home in a service that
adheres to the general rules that have been practiced over centuries.

Putting aside the Orthodox belief that
homosexuality is an “abomination”, what right does a member of an Orthodox
Synagogue such as myself, a man generally respected in the community as a
quiet, conservative, even outright
square
, have to shock the community
by hosting, for the first time in its history, a commitment ceremony on a grand
scale?

Don’t get the wrong impression. Montrealers are
open-minded, by and large. Undoubtedly, many people in this city believe that
homosexuality is not a “choice”, and most are probably accepting, though I’ve
always found the overall attitude to be
don’t make waves
.

ROSLYN
   
And
though he’s too modest to say so, it’s fair to say that Sheldon’s sensitivity
about the response from our crowd is heightened by his prominence in the Jewish
community. As a notary, his work in real estate puts him in contact with a
large number of the city’s most prominent businessmen, and he’s always been a
very visible man (at six foot four, how could he not be!) in our Synagogue,
serving as Vice President for a time, and as a man known for his contributions
to Jewish charities. When you consider the already tight-knit quality of our
community, it’s fair to say that Sheldon’s a public figure, and a figure known
for his staid, conservative nature.

SHELDON   
That’s certainly the
image I convey. And it’s an accurate one.

It can’t be stressed enough: holding the
ceremony here, in this city, in this community, turned this entire affair into
an exercise in pushing a boulder up a mountain. As I’ve said, Montreal is a
wonderful city, but there’s one vital element to the civic life of our city
that permeates every facet of life here. Bear with me, for even if it might not
be readily apparent, it will be helpful as you read further if you know
something about the stress we cope with day in and day out.

We Montrealers are all participants, willing or
not, in a debate over language, namely French and English. It’s a dispute that
has dominated Quebec life for over two decades, and shows no sign of easing up.
In fact, the younger generation of Anglophone Montrealers (as English-speakers
are frequently referred to; French are hence known as Francophones) has been so
drastically reduced in recent years, it amounts to an Exodus. I need look no
further than my phone bill or frequent flier report to be reminded of my personal
example. All of our four children have left the province of Quebec. And so have
most of their Anglophone contemporaries.

While there is no doubt that Montreal owes much
of its charm to its dual personality, the mixing of French and English cultures,
the conflict that we all face today has deep roots in the province.

After the French were defeated by the English in
1631 on the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City, they suffered a sort of cultural
humiliation. And for centuries the Francophone majority of the province was
ruled by a group they considered an occupying force. Certainly there were
injustices perpetrated against the French over those three hundred years. Our
very license plates bear testament to the long festering wound of defeat with
the enigmatic phrase, “Je Me Souviens”, meaning, “I will remember.” Well,
eventually, the anger of that memory propelled the French speaking majority to
seize the reins of power with a tight and unforgiving grip. And now that they
call the shots, they’ve not only sought to secede from greater Canada, but to
redress past wrongs, both real and imagined, in some arcane ways. Francophones
are in the process of evening the score, if you will, over the past subjugation
of their mother tongue, with the introduction of Draconian sign laws.

French language must predominate and French
letters must be at least twice as big as the English letters - even in
Chinatown! An Orwellian “Language Police” patrols the city, ever vigilant for
the English scofflaw who allows an Anglicized word to stand alone, on a
storefront window or inside a shop. The forces of separation have also imposed
restrictive education laws, forcing immigrants to attend French schools, rather
than English ones. All of this, plus many other pervasive irritants, have
helped convince our youth that they are not wanted and the future for them is
elsewhere, especially professionals who, thanks to their specialties, can more
easily find employment elsewhere.

Yet, given this pervasive tone of intolerance,
Montrealers are surprisingly accepting when language isn’t the issue. It should
be noted that in the French section of the City (east of St. Lawrence Blvd.,
which is also known as Main St., or “the Main”) there is an area called the
“Gay Village,” with many clubs. Montrealers, like most other people, segregate
themselves, feeling more comfortable with their own. French - east of the Main;
English - west of the Main. There are exceptions, such as Westmount, where both
the wealthy French and English reside. In any event, the French, with their
fiery Latin character and zest for life, are most inclined to accept
differences and change, and therefore I believe are most accepting of gay life.
Unfortunately, don’t look for gay clubs or a Gay Village in the West End. West
Enders either go to the gay clubs downtown or must head east.