Coming together

In a room full of strangers, a man spoke up.\n"I'd rather see my son dead than gay," he said. \nHis son, who was sitting next to him, was silent. His wife shrank in her seat.\nWhile many parents have become more accepting of their homosexual children, some parents still struggle, said Doug Bauder, coordinator for Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgendered Student Support Services. \nThat's part of the reason PFLAG, Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, exists. \nThe group was brought to Bloomington to reach out to family members and friends who have difficulty with a loved one's sexual orientation. The Bloomington branch is one of 450 affiliates in the country and 12 in the state. \nAt local meetings, the focus is the same as it was 10 years ago when the Bloomington chapter started: to cope with a loved one's sexual orientation and work toward acceptance of those who are often not accepted by society. \nPlace for parents\nBloomington PFLAG meetings convene once a month and are highly confidential. The news media are not allowed in meetings and photography is forbidden. Members are encouraged not to "out someone" or tell what is said in the meeting or who attends. \nSome of the participants are more accepting than others.\nWhen Hank Mascotte, a member of PFLAG South Bend, heard his stepson was gay, he said it didn't bother him. He had known Carl since he was a boy, and he wasn't going to let the news affect their relationship.\n"I've known Carl for about 15 years," he said. "I love him. It didn't make any difference. I had more concern about his well-being than anything."\nMascotte said being a part of PFLAG has been a journey for him and his wife. Ironically, the group has helped them become more active in lobbying for GLBT rights than their son is. \nBut for other parents, having a child come out can be devastating. Some parents react so violently that they cut their children off financially or disown them, said Oran Lakin, the president of PFLAG in Indianapolis, the largest affiliate in the state. That's why, he said, support groups such as theirs are necessary. \n"When you find out your child is gay, you get extremely angry," he said. "All of the parent's dreams -- walking your daughter down the aisle, the white picket fence -- you throw them out." \nThis was the case for Sara Patterson when her daughter came out 13 years ago. Patterson said she was shocked.\n"Mothers tend to think, 'Oh my god, what did I do?'" she said. \nPatterson said she struggled. She wanted a support group that would help her cope with her daughter's sexual orientation. PFLAG filled that role -- helping her accept her daughter's sexuality. Patterson eventually became vice president of the affiliate. She has worked with various families throughout the years and each case is different, with some situations being better than others.\n"The family bond is important. (If parents don't accept their child's sexuality), I think that oftentimes, the gay or lesbian child just moves away," she said. \n"You know, there's a line in a book that reads, 'When I told you homosexuality was OK, I didn't mean for you.' I know I have learned that you should just hope your children will be happy in whatever path they take … Love can grow, and they can have a wonderful, fulfilling life."\nFor Lakin, acceptance is vital.\n"It's still your child," Lakin said. "If you don't accept it, there's something wrong with you. We all have had the same type of problems, and it's not the end of the world…" \nReconciling Religion\nParents who have struggled with their children's sexuality said religion was the most difficult obstacle to overcome. Many religions condemn homosexuality or homosexual acts. \n"You believe your child is going to hell, if you are truly religious, and that's pretty scary," Lakin said. \nPatterson raised her daughter in a Unitarian church. That helped, because the minister was supportive of her daughter and her partner when they joined union, Patterson said. \nWhen Seymour resident Rhea Murray discovered her son was gay, she experienced a widening gulf with her church. Her minister wasn't supportive and exhorted her to abandon her son, she said. She left the church.\nHer decision became the subject of her book, "A Journey to Moriah." She stayed with PFLAG and eventually became a national figure for the organization.\nDoris Fox, co-founder of the Bloomington PFLAG affiliate, said that in the beginning a local church was supportive of them. She said the church gave the group a room to use and paid its mailing bills.\nDespite the initial support, Fox said she and her husband don't go to church anymore. They try to avoid the people she believes condemn homosexuals in the name of religion, she said. \nHiding from herself\nBut for Bloomington resident Linda Huntington, it wasn't religion that troubled her. \nShe said she knew she was a lesbian when she was a girl. She tried to tell people that she was not attracted to men, but it fell on deaf ears, she said. \nThen, she "stuffed herself back in" and went through all the motions. She found a man she was interested in and started dating him. They got married. She said she was hiding from herself.\nBut it didn't work.\nTheir marriage lasted several years before she realized it was time to call it quits. She came out. \nShe told her mother, friends and immediate family that she is a lesbian. Her secret was no longer private. Forget what she had been taught, what her environment told her, she said to herself. She said she saw that the lie she had made herself believe was doing more damage than the truth. \nThis time, as the 40-something year old was starting life anew, she was determined to find a supportive and accepting group that could help her deal with the stigma attached to being gay. \nThat was what she wanted: to be accepted and supported.\nShe read about PFLAG and said she thought she'd give it a try. She said she was terrified. But she knew she had to do it.\nAt the meeting, she met people with stories and experiences to share. Huntington sat and listened. It wasn't until later that she began to open up to other members. In the group, she said she found peace.\n"PFLAG has been important to me because at the time, I was struggling with myself. It's been hard for me because I'm a middle-age woman," she said. "In some ways, it's been like going back to adolescence." \nHer involvement in PFLAG has helped her come to terms with her sexual orientation, she said. She even jokes about some of the stereotypes she faced as a lesbian. \n"I'm still in the process of coming out. My life is half over," she said. "I wanted to be true to myself." \nWorking toward acceptance\nBauder said he has referred half a dozen parents in the community to PFLAG. The organization represents more than 80,000 people internationally, according to its Web site. But members of the group say much work remains to be done on the part of society and unaccepting parents.\nPatterson has devoted time outside of PFLAG and testified in favor of legislation for same-sex marriages in Congress. She said she wants to see her daughter legally bonded to the woman she has been with for 13 years. The couple has three children and lives in Pittsburgh. \n"I don't care if it's called 'marriage,' but they should have a legal bond," she said. "I don't know what anyone has to fear from my daughter, her partner and their three children." \nAlthough Patterson said society's attitude is better than what it was 15 years ago, she hopes it will continue to improve in the next 15 years. She plans to help lead the fight.\n"It's improved tremendously," she said. "But there is still a long way to go"