2000-11-10 - 12:12:29
Queer Brotherhood

Queer Brotherhood

The circumstances surrounding my birth and adoption are "up" for me at the moment because next week I shall be visiting my "brother" Ryan, my birth mother's adopted son. Now 32, Ryan has been living in Europe for a couple years; he's passing through a nearby city where I'll spend overnight with him.

It was Ryan who found me back in 1993. A couple years before, I had registered with Social Services to have them search for my birth mother; the backlog of requested traces was so large they hadn't gotten around to mine. Meanwhile, Ryan only found out in the spring of '93, three years after his adoptive Mom's death, that she had been pregnant and given a son up for adoption. He immediately contacted Social Services who, because they had my search request on file, made the match instantly.

Social Services sent me a letter announcing "a member of my birth family" desired contact with me. I was thrilled, imagining it to be my birth mother. It was a blow to learn that she was dead. But I was excited about having a brother. Not only that, but this brother lived in Toronto where I was moving in a few short months. A few weeks later, Social Services clarified that this new brother was not, in fact, blood-related.

The government agency kept tight control over the initial contact between Ryan and I; our first letters back and forth had to be free of any identifying information and were delivered via the social worker. I received Ryan's 8-page letter on my second or third day in Toronto, after he had received my lengthy missive. At that point, Social Services withdrew from the reunion process and we were allowed to disclose our full names and contact information to one another.

Anxious about Ryan's reaction to my gayness, I came out to him in a second letter before we met face to face. He wrote back right away, assuring me that this was not an issue, that he had lots of gay friends and no homophobic hang-ups.

Our first meeting was for dinner at an al fresco café in the heart of Toronto's gay ghetto that summer. We were both nervous, but connected well. Ryan is quite a talker, so I listened to story after story about his mother's brave, sad life. About his adopted sister Sabrine, his father the professor, my birth mother's mother Granny who he wanted to drive me up to meet in northern Ontario.

A few weeks later, Ryan took me up to meet Granny. On the drive there, I talked a lot about being gay; Ryan surprised me with vehement opinions opposed to queer promiscuity. It didn't quite become an argument, but we avoided discussing sexual issues for a long time after that.

Ryan is attractive, with a muscular body shaped from years of avid athletic pursuits. I remember that night in our hotel room, how careful I was not to give the appearance of checking him out as I did just that, drinking in his massive, rippled torso once he took off his shirt.

I was in a new relationship with Mark; he and Ryan hit it off. I met my "sister" Sabrine; although she had recently converted to a fundamentalist religion and had some definite moral problems with homosexuality, we too got along well at first.

A year after Ryan and I first met, one night he and Sabrine had dinner with Mark and I on Queen West in Toronto. Perusing the dessert menu, Mark and I noticed a gorgeous ball-capped brunette walking into the restaurant. Not only was the guy stunning, he gave off major gay vibes; Mark and I exchanged lascivious glances as we admired the stranger's beauty.

Damned if he didn't come over to our table! It was Shane, a friend of Ryan's. Introductions were made. Shane sat down and joined in the conversation, responding to Mark's comments about Toronto gay life in a way that made it obvious that he was indeed queer.

At one point Mark noted that his and my one year anniversary was coming up. Sabrine happened to be in the ladies' room. "That's great!" Shane replied; looking into Ryan's eyes, he casually added, "We have been together for six months now."

Gasp!

As his bible-thumping sister returned from the washroom, panic-stricken Ryan only had time to whisper "Sabrine doesn't know yet, so let's talk about this later" before she sat back down. Small--decidedly-hetero--talk got us through the rest of the meal.

Let's just say I was reeling at this unexpected news, doing my best to keep my composure during dessert. Once Ryan and Shane left, Sabrine expressed a growing suspicion about how much time her brother was spending with this gay guy, wondering aloud to Mark and I if, in fact, she had two gay brothers. Attempting to change the subject, Mark and I exchanged knowing glances.

There were multiple answering machine messages from Ryan when I got home. I talked to him on the phone for an hour that night. Shane had mistakenly assumed that even though Ryan hadn't yet come out to his sister, I--the queer brother--already knew; he'd had no idea his comment about their relationship would out Ryan. Ryan explained that he hadn't felt it was fair to his father and Sabrine to come out to me before them.

So, not only did I have a new sort-of-brother; I had a gay sort-of-brother. And damn did he have good taste in men! Shane was to die for.

In terms of the whole debate about whether it's biology or environment that determines sexual orientation, our story confirms nothing; Ryan got the nurture, I got the nature.

Ryan and I got a lot closer after that; he credited my appearance in his life as giving him the impetus to come out. He and Shane and Mark and I spent a lot of time together. Eventually, he did come out to his father and sister; they took the news quite well, although Sabrine struggles with the religious issue to this day.

(I have distanced myself from Sabrine in the past few years; I cannot accept her "hate the sin, love the sinner" bullshit.)

Ryan's sexual uptightness dissipated the more he came to accept his gayness; we have had many laughs reminiscing about that early, awkward conversation about sexuality. Sadly, he and Shane did not last as a couple, but Ryan has gone on to explore gay life in a way that gives us lots to talk about when we get together.

I haven't seen him for a couple years now, but we keep in regular touch on email. The city where we're meeting up next week was the backdrop for my recent bathhouse adventure; Ryan knows I intend to make a return visit to this den of inequity: he may just accompany me.

Despite his juicy physique, I rarely think about Ryan sexually. Yet the question arises: what would I do if an erotic opportunity arose during next week's visit? We will be sharing a hotel room, possibly exploring queer sexual space together in the bathhouse. If Ryan showed any interest, made a playful pass at me, would I go for it?

Adoption psychologists have coined a phrase to describe the phenomenon that frequently occurs in adoption reunions: "genetic sexual attraction". Often, reunited family members experience overpowering lust for one another, even parents and kids. This fascinates me, and yes I have experienced that surge of eros on occasion during the many unfoldings of my adoption journey. (I'll leave amplification of that topic for a future entry.) These adoption experts caution that while genetic sexual attraction is a natural--however bizarre--emotional component of the reunion process, acting on it is a bad idea.

They are probably right. While no blood relationship exists between Ryan and I, sex would no doubt unleash potent primal emotions. After all, Ryan got what I didn't get: the nurturing, the caresses and diaper-changing and daily love of his Mom, my birth mother. And in personality and appearance, I resemble his sorely-missed Mom to an uncanny degree: I am her ghost.

Probably best not to go there. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious.

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