Thread by @alexanderxliu

When I came out to my dad 20 years ago, he told me the idea of two men being intimate disgusted him.

Here's what happened next. #FathersDay 🧵 👇

By 18, our relationship was...strained. As a kid, I preferred Baby-Sitters Club books to basketball. I was (and still am) a sensitive person—a stray comment could swerve into screaming, sobbing, and the silent treatment.

My dad had a walk-it-off mentality when it came to my problems. Bullying? Insecurities? Suck it up and stop crying—sympathy is for the weak. (Typical Dad stuff.)

So when my dad told me gay men disgusted him—I was ready for war. But... then for the first time in my life, I saw my father break down into tears.

He told me that no matter how he felt—I should never let that affect how I felt about myself. That it was HIS problem and not mine. His job was to figure out how we as a family would get through this chapter in our lives.

I had never seen my dad be that vulnerable. And for the first time in my life, I started to see him as a full human being—with all the emotional baggage that carries.

The next 10 years were... not easy. The sobbing and screaming and silence was a pattern we had established and needed therapy to unlearn.

But on one of the worst days of my life, my dad showed up for me when it counted. And it forced me to reconsider my stories about him.

As I've really tried to get to know my dad, I now understand why it was so important for me to be "tough." In 1965 at the age of 12, he moved from Taiwan to Virginia—right in the middle of school desegregation.

He talks about the first decade in the US as simply "always feeling like he was a moron." Few helped him learn a new language and culture. He doesn't talk about it—but I sense it was very traumatic for him—and the racism came from all sides.

Vulnerability and sensitivity were luxuries he and his family couldn't afford—and any signs of perceived weakness would always be taken advantage of. Survival was always on his mind.

I now see his attempts to toughen me up came from the same place as his tears. He always loved his sensitive, gender non-conforming kid—and was terrified at how the world might treat him.

Since that first breakthrough, he has shown up for me in ways I never could have imagined. He's marched in marriage equality rallies. He's attempted to stay awake during queer indie flicks. He’s even admitted to wanting to be a ballerina when he was 10.

He now has his favorite gay bars in SF (Twin Peaks and 440 have the best beer deals). He's been to queer Sound of Music singalongs at the Castro theater. He gave a speech at my wedding and welcomed my husband into the family.

My relationship with my dad shows me what can happen if you do the exhausting (and I mean exhausting) emotional work of loving someone. That if you really try to understand and validate a person's humanity—even if (especially if) you dislike some parts—magic is possible.

I'm not saying it's always worth it—you need two to tango. But my dad has taught me that my survival instincts about people are often wrong. That I should always try to connect with others even when it's difficult. That I might be surprised.

This experience even led me to make a documentary about sex ed to help others navigate some of these complicated issues and relationships (with humor and humility) to create a healthier and happier future for all.

(My dad's interview is just 🤌)

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