A Quick Phone Call

The subject of today’s post will be a little bit personal, so bare with me.

Last night I rang my Dad, and was talking to him about my recent experiences in Davie Village, in Vancouver. I only spent a little time there, but the wife and I had a wee flat for a while. We wandered about, and saw the rainbow crosswalk, and the wee bookshop, and all the restaurants, and the people.

My Dad knows that I’m queer, and he’s fine with it. He’s always been fine with it, actually. It never bothered him. It was something he considered to be none of his business, all he wanted for me was to be happy. (And to get an education.) So when I came out to him when I was 18 or so, I had prepared a wee speech in case he protested – but he didn’t.

And he’s not spoken about it my sexuality much since. (I suppose it’s totally utterly weird and gross, like thinking about your parents having sex.) My Dad often talks about marriage equality as a concept, and whole-heartedly supports it, he sees no reason why not to, but he doesn’t go much beyond that acceptance, because he doesn’t have to. Which is lovely, and is total support in and of itself, but this conversation stuck with me.

So we went over the how’s Vancouvers and all those things. I told him where I was staying, and the fact that it felt like a very safe place for me to be, and that I was comfortable in the wee flat I was renting with the wife. That’s fantastic, he said. What a great reflection on Vancouver’s character, to have a community like that, you know? How indicative it is of the people there, and how definitive that can be.

And the thing about gays – cue my bastardly grin because my father, totally heterosexual man was about give me advice on queers – is that they’re really peaceful.

Oh. That was what struck a chord with me. That statement, right there.

And that felt good, because I know now that he understand it, that he understands what I want – to be happy, to be healthy, to live with my wife, to live in a safe place where my rights are protected. To marry her.

I got quite emotional, though – I am quite emotional about it still. Little tiny actions, acknowledgements like these can absolutely and unequivocally make me cry.

Finally something other than But if there’s a Pride Day why can’t there be a Straight Day? or something that feels stupid and entitled and a little bit ridiculous. Positive acknowledgement on the queer community as a whole. Not just Davie Village, not just Vancouver, or Canada, but as a whole.

And I made a decision to share this with you, oh mysterious reader of mine, because little conversations like this should be shared.

Because I saw something rare, and something lovely.


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