If I had a gay son

If I had a gay son, I would love him. By “love him” I don’t mean beat him until he “becomes” a man. He already is one despite being gay – unlike those fathers who beat their effeminate sons.

If I had a gay son, I would respect him. By respect I don’t mean demand “Magpakalalaki ka nga (Be more manly)!” I won’t control his actions nor laugh at his voice and mannerisms. I wouldn’t demand that he be anything other than the person that he is. He will be my beautiful son no matter what. Anyone who has a problem with that will have to answer to me.

If my son were gay, I wouldn’t force my preferences on him. I would know that it’s none of my business who he loves and wants to have sex with. Instead I would arm him with education. I would teach him that the world isn’t as kind as I am. I would show him how to protect himself in mind, body, and heart.  

I would tell him that being gay is only a fraction of the person that he is going to be. That regardless of orientation we all have to become valuable members of society. I will make sure he gets the best education. I will give him the weapons of knowledge, wit, and perseverance. I will teach him to discern between those whose minds will never change about him. I will show him how to recognize and value friends who truly have his back. 

I will defend him at any cost. If he ever looks back at his life, he will be certain that I was his first and most loyal ally. Because of this he will turn to me when broken. He will run to me when he needs help. He will know that his preferences and gender expression are irrelevant to me, because I would never have blamed him and said, “Kasi bakit ka ganyan (Why are you that way)?”

Unrealistic?

Am I being unrealistic? Do I not know what I’m talking about since I don’t have a child? 

Exactly. I don’t have a son or a daughter. I actually don’t have plans to have a child. 

But you did. You created this life as an offspring of your love for your spouse. You promised to support this life and accept it no matter what the outcome was. While in his mother’s womb you said that if the baby came out deformed, sick, or became developmentally delayed, you would be there no matter what.

You had high hopes and ambitions for him. You hoped for a doctor, or a businessman, but swore to support him even if he pursued art.

Your child is whole

Guess what? Your child is whole. He is happy, healthy, and yes, he is gay. How come all of a sudden your promises are thrown out the window? How come you suddenly don’t care where he’s headed if it’s not the way you designed? 

Even if he does become a doctor or a lawyer, you say you’ll never support his “lifestyle”. You drop statements that you’ll never accept who he loves. In anger you say you’d rather have a dead son than a gay one. You berate him and make him “correct” his actions and mannerisms, your reasoning being, “Wala sa lahi natin ang ganyan (That’s not in our blood).”

It makes no difference to your prized boy. He will grow up to be the man he is and learn the hard way that some people will reject him just because of his nature. He will realize that he will be hated even by those he loves.

Your disapproval will never change him. He may just learn to hide it better. He may follow your wishes and marry a woman he doesn’t love. Would it satisfy you if he tried to be “normal” even at the cost of his spirit? Would you feel better if you lost your son?

Guess who’ll be missing out there? A man who only aimed to be loved wholly the way you intended to love him? Or parents who broke their promise to accept the child they brought into the world?

You keep saying that homosexuality is a sin, that you are just protecting your children from your concept of hell.

I still wonder what you will say to your God who will ask you this question at the gates of your heaven: “What did you do with the child I gave you to accept and love?” 

When it comes to offending religions, there are so many ways to do that. But universally, regardless of faith or moral standard, there is no greater sin than rejecting your own child. – Rappler.com