Why I Won’t Tell My Grandmother I’m Gay

“Arielle and I have gone through the motions dozens of times. On Christmas Day, the gig is no different. My partner and I walk into my childhood home in the suburbs of north Toronto, waltz into the basement living room, and find my grandmother perched on a leather armchair in the corner. We greet her with a kiss on each cheek, and we humour her as she eyes us up and down and remarks on our thin frames. ‘Così bella,’ she comments. Then, without fail, in her signature southern Italian accent: ‘You are the two sisters!’ It’s intended to be a compliment, one that suggests we are of equal beauty. Instead, it belittles the very nature of our four-year relationship, reducing it to a bond of sorority instead of romantic devotion.”

Erica Lenti – The Walrus – January 2019

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