29
Fri, Mar

Before the Supreme Court Considers Gay Marriage, an American Change of Heart

ARCHIVE

FIRST PERSON - Before his son came out to him, Mike Neubecker had never thought about same-sex marriage. It was 1991; few Americans had. Sodomy was still a crime and gay rights activists were more focused on issues like AIDS, the military and anti-discrimination laws. What little Neubecker knew about the gay rights movement, he didn't like. 

He remembers laughing derisively about the University of Michigan's attempts to kick the Reserve Officers' Training Corps, or ROTC, off campus because of the military's policy at the time of not accepting openly gay troops. That year, his son Lee was a freshman at Eastern Michigan University, and was set to join ROTC himself.

But Lee's plans changed at the end of the year, when he and the other new recruits were instructed to sign papers stating that they weren't gay. In the room where the recruits were gathered, his classmates started pounding on the tables shouting, "No fags! No fags!" 

Lee didn't sign the paper. Instead, he called home and told his mom that he was gay. Neubecker only found out two and half months later, when he stumbled upon some literature for families of gay people hidden in the spare sock drawer in his bedroom. Three days of crisis followed this discovery.

A small business owner who was raised Catholic in a white, conservative suburb of Detroit, Neubecker said he first felt a "rush of rage." 

"I remember saying to my wife, 'This can't be happening, I won't stand for this.'" He called and left a message with his son. Then, wanting to be "armed to the teeth" for the conversation, he walked to the local bookstore and headed to the Christian section. He found a book called "How Will I Tell My Mother" and started reading it. The book, which purports to offer "a way out of homosexuality for those who want to escape," explained that his son wasn't gay, just confused and sick. 

On the second day, he drove down to Cincinnati, a four-and-a-half-hour drive, to talk to his old pastor. He didn't dare talk to any of his neighbors or people at the local church. The pastor listened carefully and told Neubecker to tell his son he loved him, but warned him not to speak about it to anyone else.

When he returned home, he called an 800 number listed in the back of the book. "They said, 'Oh Michael, your son should come here and see our facility. We can help him.' Then, they asked for my insurance policy number," he recalled. "They said they would put it down as severe mental depression." 

It wasn't until the third day that Neubecker finally got on the phone with his son. "Your mother thinks you might be gay," he began. 

"No, Dad, I am gay," Lee replied. 

Lee had already been going to a gay rights group for months to prepare for this conversation -- one that Neubecker now sees as a turning point. "I realized my son was not severely depressed," he said. 

"I was."

 

(Read the rest here.) 

-cw

 

 

 

 

CityWatch

Vol 11 Issue 25

Pub: Mar 26, 2013

 

 

Get The News In Your Email Inbox Mondays & Thursdays