Out of the Closet and Into the Garden
nytimes.comI came out to my mother the day she got deported. Probably not the best timing, but there is no good time to say “Hey, I’m gay!” to a God-fearing immigrant woman with the grit of a true New Yorker.
As the firstborn American in my family, I have only an oral history of my parents’ journey from the Caribbean to the United States, their stories of living in basements, working as dishwashers, cleaning mansions and taking care of Upper East Side children.
After a long day, my parents would search for the nearest Jamaican restaurant to eat curry goat and hear a familiar tongue. They felt alive when they saw themselves in others, especially in a foreign land.
It gave them hope that they too could make a life in the great U.S. of A. There were many times I wanted to come out to my mother.
