| [solo] Dear Mama, I’m sor-ry it’s ta-ken me so long to write. Ev-ry time I try to write you and Pa-pa I re-a-lize I’m not say-ing the things that are in my heart. That would be o-kay if I loved you an-y less than I do, but you are still my parents and I am still your child. I have friends who think I’m fool-ish to write this let-ter. I hope they’re wrong. I hope their doubts are based on pa-rents who loved and trus-ted them less than mine do. I hope es-pec-ial-ly you’ll see this as an act of love on my part, a sign of my con-tin-u-ing need to share my life with you. |
| [spoken] “I wouldn’t have written, I guess if you hadn’t told me about your involvement in the Save Our Children campaign. That, more than anything, made it clear that my responsibility was to tell you the truth that your own child is homosexual, and that I never needed saving from anything except the cruel and ignorant piety of people like Anita Bryant.” |
| [solo] I’m sor-ry, Ma-ma. Not for what I am, but for how you must feel at this mo-ment. I know what that feel-ing is, for I felt it for most of my life; re-vul-sion, shame, dis-belief, re-jec-tion through fear of some-thing I knew, ev-en as a child, was as bas-ic to my na-ture as the col-or of my eyes. |
| [spoken] “No, Mama, I wasn’t ‘recruited’. No seasoned homosexual ever served as my mentor. But you know what? I wish someone had. I wish someone older than me and wiser than the people in Orlando had taken me aside and said..... ‘You’re all right kid. You can grow up to be a doctor or a teacher just like anyone else. You’re not crazy or sick or evil. You can succeed and be happy and find peace with friends - all kinds of friends - who don’t give a damn who you go to bed with. Most of all, though, you can love and be loved, without hating yourself for it.’” |
| [chorus] But no one ev-er said that to me, Mama. I had to find it out on my own, with the help of the ci-ty that has become my home. I know that this may be hard for you to be-lieve, but San Fran-cis-co is full of men and women, both straight and gay, who don’t con-si-der sex-u-al-I-ty in meas-ur-ing the worth of an-oth-er hu-man be-ing. These aren’t rad-i-cals or weird-os, Mama. They are shop clerks and bank-ers and lit-tle old la-dies, peo-ple who nod and smile to you when you meet them on the bus. Their at-ti-tude is neith-er pa-tron-iz-ing nor pi-ty-ing. And their mes-sage is so sim-ple: Yes, you are a person. Yes, I like you. Yes, it’s all right for you to like me too. |
| [spoken] “I know what you are thinking now. You’re asking yourself: What did we do wrong? How did we let this happen? Which one of us made him that way?” |
| [chorus] I can’t ans-wer that, Mama. In the long run, I guess I real-ly don’t care. All I know is this: if you and Pa-pa are re-spon-si-ble for the way I am. Then I thank you with all my heart, for it’s the light and joy of my life. I know I can’t tell you what it is to be gay. But I can tell you what it’s not. |
| [spoken] “It’s not hiding behind words, Mama. Like family and decency and Christianity. It’s not fearing your body, or the pleasures that God made for it. It’s not judging your neighbor, except when he’s crass or unkind.” |
| [chorus] Be-ing gay has taught me tol-er-ance; com-pas-sion and hu-mil-i-ty. It has shown me the lim-it-less pos-si-bil-i-ties. It has giv-en me peo-ple whose pas-sion and kind-ness and sen-si-tiv-I-ty have pro-vi-ded a con-stant source of strength. It has brought me in-to the fam-‘ly of man, Ma-ma, and I like it here. I like it. There’s not much else to say, except that I’m the same Mi-chael you’ve al-ways known. You just know me bet-ter now. I have nev-er con-scious-ly done an-y-thing to hurt you. I never will. Please don’t feel you have to ans-wer right a-way. It’s enough for me to know that I no long-er have to lie to the peo-ple who taught me to val-ue the truth. Mar-y Ann sends her love. Everything is fine at Twenty Eight, Bar-ba-ry Lane |
| [solo] Your lov-ing son. Mich-ael |
| Michaels Letter to Mama |