Interview with Tony Varona
Candace Gingrich, National Coming Out Project manager, talks with Tony Varona about being Cuban-American, gay and coming out
Tony Varona is an associate professor of law at Pace Law School in White Plains, N.Y. He previously served as the legal director for the Human Rights Campaign and currently serves on its board of directors. Varona is an active member of the Hispanic National Bar Association and the National Lesbian and Gay Lawyers Association.
GINGRICH: It's great to speak with you, Tony. We sure miss you here in the office, but I know you haven't stopped being out and proud and active since you left us!
VARONA: That's true. You know, I'm still on the board of HRC, and, I'll be teaching a course in sexuality law this fall at Pace. But I do miss being in the thick of it.
GINGRICH: Well, I'm happy to give you another chance to stay connected, and I appreciate your sharing your coming out story with me. First, though, would you share how your family came to America?
VARONA: I was born in Cuba in 1967 into a loving, close-knit family. My mother was a school teacher and my father owned a chain of butcher shops with his brother, my uncle. It was around that time that they realized they didn't want to raise a family in a communist country. My father's stores had been "nationalized," or essentially confiscated by the state with no compensation, and my mother was uncomfortable with the pressure she got to indoctrinate her students with communist dogma. They decided to seek asylum in the United States, and we finally arrived in 1970 and settled in Newark, N.J., where I grew up.
GINGRICH: How early did you realize you were gay?
VARONA: Like many gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) people, I knew that I was gay, or at least different, at a very young age. It's no secret that Cuban culture is very machista and men of my father's generation were expected to conform to a rigid standard of masculinity. I remember being 8 or 9 and having my father try to teach me how to hold a glass, how to stand, how to walk, what men did and didn't do in terms of comportment. Like many Cuban boys who failed to live up to the masculine archetype, I was enrolled in karate class. The classes failed to turn me into a macho karate star, but I did manage to add a gay flair to the various katas — or karate routines!
GINGRICH: And you haven't stopped adding that gay flair to everything you do! When did the realization you were "different" turn into a realization that you were gay?
VARONA: I supressed my gayness through high school and college. Although I dated women, I suspected that I was gay or bisexual. I was on the brink of coming out in my third year of law school but met a wonderful woman with whom I had a nearly three-year relationship. It was a loving, close relationship and we talked about marriage, but in the end, I felt I wasn't being honest with myself or her by going any farther.
Soon after I broke up with her, I began coming out to friends and co-workers. Some were surprised, some weren't, and all were supportive and loving. Coming out to myself and my friends was one of the most joyful things I had ever done. It was like the weight of an elephant had been lifted off my shoulders. Like I was finally breathing fresh air. I was so very happy, yet I still feared that my parents wouldn't understand.
GINGRICH: When did you finally come out to them?
VARONA: I came out to my parents in 1995. At the time, I was a communications lawyer at Mintz Levin, a large, gay-friendly law firm. I had been doing pro bono legislative lawyering for the Human Rights Campaign, and because of that work, HRC gave us a community service award. The firm and I had received some media attention as a result of the award. At that time, I was out to my firm colleagues and had moved in with my partner, John. I thought it was time to make sure that my parents knew for sure that I was gay and that they heard it from me.
I came out to my parents by way of letter. It took me two weeks to write it, because I used the letter not only to tell my parents that I was gay, but it also had to be a custom-authored "how to cope with your son's homosexuality" guide, all in Spanish.
GINGRICH: I've found that for many Latinos/as coming out, especially to family, that language sometimes exacerbates the situation. What was your experience like?
VARONA: Like many other immigrants, I had to come out to parents who had not fully assimilated into American culture and did not speak English. At the time, there were no brochures or other resources available in Spanish. I also couldn't point to positive gay role models in Latino popular culture. We're still waiting for our Latina Ellen.
GINGRICH: Besides language, did you encounter other challenges that were related to culture?
VARONA: Absolutely — religion being a huge one. Like many Anglos, Latinos/as coming out to their parents are also up against the ignorance and misinformation about homosexuality sown by the Roman Catholic Church and fundamentalist Christian and other gay-hostile churches. Many of our parents have been misled into believing that we are gay because we are possessed by demons or because we haven't fully embraced our religion. Fundamentalist religion tends to have a more oppressive impact on the lives of GLBT Latinos/as compared to our Anglo brothers and sisters because the church plays a much more pervasive and influential in our communities. For many Latino families, the church serves as a civic center, school and social services center, in addition to a house of worship.
GINGRICH: I can see why it took two weeks to write that letter — you had a lot to cover.
VARONA: My coming out letter to my parents addressed all of these matters and then some. I ended it by assuring them that I was no different, that my coming out to them merely allowed me to share more of my life with them, and that I was finally a happy and healthy person who was looking forward to a wonderful life together with my partner.
I mailed the letter and waited. And waited. The first call I received was from my Aunt Maria, my mother's sister, who told me that my parents had received my letter and that they were upset and very worried about me, but that they, and she, loved me very much.
GINGRICH: Getting that initial response, even if not from your parents directly, must have been a relief.
VARONA: My aunt's call meant the world to me. It made me know that everything would be alright. My parents called me a few days later, and although they did not mention the letter, they made it a point to tell me — three times — that they loved me and were proud of me. My sweet brother, to whom I had come out earlier, also called me and told me he loved me and to hang in there. The fact that my family's first response to my coming out was one of love and kindness made me whole. For the first time in my life, I felt that I was a complete person.
GINGRICH: The fears related to coming out can be so daunting. It's sometimes hard to give your family time to adjust, but knowing that in the meantime their love for you is still there makes it easier. How long before they were comfortable with your orientation?
VARONA: It took my parents a few years to fully embrace my gayness. In the year or two after I came out to them, we did not talk about John. But — like most parents — after they had spent time with John at a few family events, they began treating him like a member of the family. And now both of my parents end each phone call with "un abrazo a John," or "a hug to John." John, in turn, speaks no Spanish, and he and my parents engage in simple communication with their broken English and his two years of high school Spanish. His biggest complaint about our family gatherings is not about the language barrier, however, but about how it is that we all insist on talking at the same time. It's all about that Cuban coffee, Candace.
GINGRICH: I appreciate the time you've taken to have this conversation with me. Next time, I'll have some Cuban coffee first and maybe I'll be able to keep up with you! Do you have any advice for Latinas or Latinos on their coming out journey?
VARONA: Yes, it's important to know that there are many Latino/a brothers and sisters that have already made that journey and will be happy to help you deal with the stresses of coming out, Second, it's important to have accurate, affirming information and resources related to coming out to family members, and today that information is available in Spanish, which is a great development. Some are for the individual, like the Guía de Recursos para Salir del Closet that the Human Rights Campaign Foundation publishes, and some are for your parents, like Nuestra Hijas y Nuestro Hijos published by PFLAG [Parents, Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays]. There are also GLBT Latina/o specific support groups you might find in your area.
Finally, I would remind Latinos/as facing difficult coming out journeys that the benefits of coming out and allowing ourselves the honesty and integrity that we deserve are well worth the rough patches that some of us have to traverse in being honest with our family and friends. I found that an unexpected bonus to my coming out was that it enabled me to discover and develop great friendships with a number of openly gay relatives. I discovered that the gay gene doesn't just run our family, it sprints. At last count, I have five openly gay or lesbian cousins, and my aunt is a chapter president of PFLAG in North Carolina! Although coming out was one of the hardest things I've ever done, I am profoundly happier and healther person for having done it. And I look forward to the day when coming out for LGBT people of all races, cultures and religions is a uniformly positive and loving experience and not a difficult one. Hopefully that day will come soon, especially if we support one another in coming out safely and knowledgeably.