I asked him a question, at the end of his talk, about what advice he'd give parents struggling with having a gay child. Paraphrasing his response, somewhat, he said, "There's nothing unnatural about being gay. A parent deciding not to love their child for any reason is unnatural." He spoke of the universal oneness of being, a very key concept in Shin Buddhism, and gave us an analogy of an ocean, and a person's ego being a wave on the ocean, and then dissipating back into the greatness of it all. He spoke of interconnectedness, and how change is possible when it starts at the most atomic level of our self.
Another speaker shared her experience about being trans, growing up as a nisei during the war, and a child of a minister. Unbelievably moving - and struck a lot of chords with me about the power that our parents have to influence the course of our lives, in good and bad ways. Couple that with the macho culture of Japan, and its unbending societal and familial obligations - it's amazing that she is who she is today, and that she has found peace.
Last set of speakers touched me the most - Pieper and Lois Toyama - both retired educators with a gay daughter. Both from Hawaii - with the unique cultural experience that I find hard to explain to people. The unconditional love that they bear for their daughter is awesome, but so hard to encounter when juxtaposed with my parents, with whom I have a somewhat estranged relationship.
I've had a few years to deal with the awful summer that I went home with my wife, and it pains me to acknowledge that I feel very little positive emotion of any kind towards them. I understand that they are from a different generation, and that the insular Hawaii society still holds heavy sway over them. I'm sure I embarrass them. I'm sure I'm a disappointment to them. I'm sure that the way that I choose to dress, and how I carry myself through life is a burden for them. I don't think I love them anymore, which breaks my heart to admit.
I'm getting older now, and while I'm not an old granny yet, my childhood memories fade with every passing year, or get distorted by the new lens through which I view them. I find myself having trouble remembering good things about my parents and about my childhood. I can still remember sitting on my dad's lap, and I can still remember my mom bathing me, but I don't remember much else. I feel ashamed to admit that I think I will only feel relief when the burden of their expectations is lifted from me with their inevitable deaths.
My last three visits were obligatory - my last remaining grandparent passing, and some trumped up excuse about magical computer problems that only I could solve. I don't remember much about them, other than keeping myself as busy as possible away from them to avoid the inevitable, hurtful remarks about my clothes, my haircut, or weight.
At this point, do I owe them anything, other than the thankfulness that I feel when I reflect on the biological details of my *life*? Should I feel anything other than faint nostalgia for memories that are now foggy?
I go to temple now because there was something missing in my life. There's nothing offensive about the doctrine, and I've carved out a few hours a week to reflect on me, the teachings of a wise man, in a community that looks SO MUCH like my mom, but doesn't judge me (at least, not to my face). I find peace there, occasionally wisdom, and an eclectic community of people. It's not the complete substitute for family, but outside of my wife, it's the closest thing I can get. I'll take it.
