Silence to Solidarity: A Mother’s Awakening to Homophobic Victimisation Through Her Gay Son

Behind every coming-out story is a narrative seldom heard: that of the parents who must confront their own assumptions, fears, and beliefs to support the children they love. In this deeply personal reflection, criminology scholar Ronica Bagwandin shares her journey from confusion to unconditional acceptance—and how her gay son’s courage inspired her to research and confront the realities of homophobic victimisation in our society.

As a mother, nothing quite prepares you for the moment your child bares their soul to you. My journey began unexpectedly one afternoon while watching The Ellen DeGeneres Show with my 19-year-old son. The episode featured “coming out” stories, and Ellen—an openly lesbian woman—spoke with such warmth and understanding.

Suddenly, my son turned to me and asked, “What would you do if I was gay, Mum?”

Assuming it was just part of the conversation, I smiled and said, “You are my child, and I will love you for you.”

Lo and behold, my precious boy burst into tears and said, “Well, I am,” before running off to his room.

I sat there frozen, the words echoing in my mind. In that brief moment, everything slowed down. My thoughts spiralled—Did I do something wrong? Was it my fault? Was it something during my pregnancy? Were there signs I missed?

But I knew this wasn’t the time for me to dwell on uncertainty or fear. My child was crying—no, breaking—and he needed his mother.

I went to him and held him as tightly as I could, even with a whirlwind of questions in my head. He clung to me and sobbed uncontrollably. I whispered, “I don’t love you any less.”

He looked up at me in disbelief, and it was in that moment that I realized something heartbreaking: I am his solace, his safe place—and yet, he was too afraid to tell me.

How had I allowed him to carry this burden alone?

That night was long and sleepless. My heart ached—not because my son is gay—but because of the cruelty of a world that judges him for it. I couldn’t share this with my husband at the time; he had just suffered a heart attack, and I didn’t want to add to his stress. So I wrestled silently with my emotions.

The next day, my son and I went out for lunch. We had an open, honest, and raw conversation. He answered all of my questions—about his childhood, the bullying, the isolation, and even the suicidal thoughts he once had simply for being “different.”

That day changed everything for me.

From that moment on, I made it my mission to educate myself—and others—about sexual diversity. I refuse to let my son fight alone ever again. His courage gave me mine, and I will stand with him, for him, and for everyone like him, for as long as I live.

When I registered for my Honours and later my Master’s degree in Criminology, I had no idea that my academic journey would become my own emotional and spiritual healing. My research focused on homophobic victimisation—a subject that became deeply personal. It became my solace. It was how I coped with the guilt of not being there for my child when he needed me most.

Through my study, I hoped to give gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender individuals a voice—to tell their stories and offer the world a more compassionate lens. This article is both a reflection of my academic findings and a personal plea:

Before you judge someone based on society’s “ideal” version of love, your holy book, or long-held cultural values—educate yourself. Words, rejection, ridicule, and hate leave real scars. Here’s what the research—and the brave participants in my study—have revealed:

1. Internalized Homophobia

Many of your loved ones may be struggling with their own identity, long before they even speak about it. There is often deep guilt and confusion—“Why am I like this?” “Why do I feel differently than others?”—accompanied by an overwhelming desire to change or “fix” themselves.

It’s not just about sex—it’s about romantic feelings. Participants spoke about praying, fasting, and pleading with a higher power to take these feelings away. The pain of not aligning with societal or religious expectations led many to suicidal thoughts—and some even attempted to take their own lives.

Take-away: Be empathetic. These individuals often fought a long, lonely internal battle before they even considered coming out. I saw the pain in their eyes—the shame, the guilt, the heartbreak. Your understanding could save a life.

2. Fear of Coming Out

Society has cemented an expectation: a man should love a woman, and vice versa. This leaves sexually diverse individuals terrified of coming out. They’re scared of your words, your judgment, and the possible rejection they might face.

As a result, many suppress their authentic identities to become who you expect them to be.

Take-away: Imagine hiding your true self every single day. That is the reality for many LGBT individuals. What you perceive as “normal” is simply a learned perspective—not a universal truth. Homosexuality is not “new” or “unnatural.” It is just as real, just as valid, and just as deserving of respect.

3. Parental Rejection

This was perhaps the most heartbreaking finding of all. Many participants were deeply afraid of being rejected by their parents. For some, this fear became reality. They were beaten, disowned, forced into heterosexual relationships, or emotionally abandoned.

Some parents stopped speaking to their children. Some even wished death upon them. All in the name of “what society will say.”
The consequences were devastating. I saw young adults with deep emotional wounds—yearning for just one hug, one “I love you,” one moment of acceptance.

Take-away: You are your child’s entire world. Their sense of safety, identity, and worth is shaped by your response. Don’t weaponize your authority or beliefs to invalidate their reality. Educate yourself. Be their safe space, especially when the world isn’t.

4. Homophobic Victimisation

Every participant in my study had experienced homophobic victimization. Their ages ranged from 18 to 30, and their stories were devastating. They spoke of verbal abuse, physical attacks, and sexual assault—all because of their sexual orientation.

Some were even failed by law enforcement, losing trust in the justice system. Despite being well-presented, respectful individuals, they were brutally victimized for simply existing.

Take-away: LGBT individuals live in constant fear. They don’t just fear crime—they fear targeted violence. They face a double threat in a society that already struggles with general safety. As a heterosexual, you may understand crime, but imagine fearing for your life simply because of who you love.

A Call to Action: Embrace. Protect. Love.

Whether you are a parent, friend, sibling, colleague, or loved one—this is your opportunity to be a light in someone’s life. Sexual diversity is real. It is human. It is not a phase, a trend, or a rebellion.

Your gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender loved ones have already endured so much, and will likely face more as long as homophobia exists. Your support could be the difference between life and death, silence and strength, isolation and hope.

Be their safe space.
Be their pillar.
Be their strength.
And above all—love them for who they are.

By Ronica Bagwandin, Cum Laude Master’s Graduate in Criminology & Forensic Science, University of KwaZulu-Natal, Durban, South Africa. Proud mother to a gay son.