My mother was lesbian. His secret life in the 1950s

Article by Helen Garlick* Published on the website of the Mirales magazine (Spain) on March 16, 2021, freely translated by Anna Iaderosa

My mother was not a mother 'normal'. It was a beautiful blonde with a dazzling smile. They could not take away her eyes off when she entered a room.

My father met her in 1954, when she studied at the University of Cambridge. He was the only person in his family to go to university.

My mother worked as a secretary in my grandfather's furniture shop. It was love at first sight. "Both saw each other and blushed. That's all", So my aunt Judy described the first meeting between my parents.

They married as soon as his dad ended his studies of law, more or less when he opened his study as a lawyers in Doncaster, England. My mother, who was pregnant with me, beat the letters for fake customers, in preparation for the real ones that would appear later. My brother David was born two years later.

Dad became a successful lawyer. He was president of the Union of Yorkshire Lawyers Companies for more than forty years. With the fruits of his hard work, he bought the Slade Hooton Hall, a villa built in 1689 during the reign of King Guglielmo III and Queen Mary II. It was the main house of our family, but we also had a holiday home in Cornwall and an apartment in London.

We seemed the perfect family. However, tensions subsequently subsequently hidden what actually happened. Mom liked to get the hair cut by the hairdresser. Every time he did, my father did not speak to her for four days. It was a rule that everyone understood, even if nobody spoke of it.

The mom and dad rarely touched each other, unless there was a camera. They smiled at the photos and, from time to time, the dad put his arm on his mother's shoulder. But I don't remember embracing or kissing.

They were liberal and caught. They made great parties with Spanish wine. They assisted various openly homosexual friends, men and women. Included Gwen, a friend of my mother for a long time. I never thought about it. We were culturally progressive (it was normal that we talked about innovative books like The female eunuch of Germaine Greer), although we never talked about feelings

There were tensions even between my father and brother. They were very different. My brother were more interested in motorcycles and engineering. Thus, there were often discussions between them, while I tried to maintain peace. In the end, I followed the steps of my father and I studied to become a lawyer

When I went to the United States, in 1981, for long holidays after my exams, my brother died tragically from suicide, something that my father never managed to accept. Dad said it was an accident, but then I found out what really happened. I promised that one day, when my parents died, I would have documented the truth about my brother's death.

I don't understand why I'm different

The mom and dad had become a very united couple, but now they were linked by sadness. One day I wondered aloud if there had been any problems among my parents. My mother replied firmly: "Your father is not the ones who divorce".

It was sincere. My parents were married for almost 59 years, until my father's death in July 2014. Three years later, on December 21, 2017, my mother died unexpectedly, only eight days after moving to a nursing home.

Among his personal effects I found an envelope with his writing. He wrote “I don't understand why I'm different. It is not a theme that we can talk about. It is 2017 and we are in a small town, but nobody talks about it. I wonder how the other lesbians do".

Lesbians? What was mom talking about? My feelings oscillated between negation, amazement and fun. In her hand written by hand, the mother named the women with whom she had had relationships, including Gwen, who had participated in those parties when I was a child.

After talking to my children, who thought it was very nice to have a gay grandmother, and my aunt, who even knew anything, wrote to Gwen by e -mail and I asked her if I could speak to her. He replied that he had waited all his life that I contacted her and that he would be happy to answer any question.

How much to follow was the most extraordinary journey of revelations. Mum and Gwen had a relationship that lasted for more than four years, in the early 1950s and even moved to London to rent an apartment behind Harrods, in Knightsbridge.

My grandmother - my mother's mother - went to London so that my mother "stopped his junk", So my mother returned to Yorkshire to get married.

My mother did what they asked her and shortly afterwards he met my father. Gwen told me that she and my mother had not continued their sexual relationship once my mother got married, but she told me that her mother had had other relationships.

Gwen did not know if my father had clues to these extramarital relationships, but suspected him.

I often wondered if my mother had intended to tell me the truth about her sexuality before she died. Maybe he had a few more days and used that time to tell me. But my mother had always been a reserved person.

I'm at peace with what happened. I decided to write about my mother's secret and my brother's story. Writing a book helped me to see my past in a more objective way.

Maybe my mother had seen how my children, my aunt and I know her truth: with an open heart and approval. He could have felt loved and accepted for what he really was.

Maybe he can see him from wherever he is now. If I could speak to her now, I would say to her: I love you, mom!

* Helen Garlick is the author of the book "No Place to Lie: Secrets Unlocked, to Promised Kept"(There is no place to lie), Whitefox Publishing, 2021, 229 pages

Original text: My mother era Lesbiana y lo ocultó. Esta was on Vida Secreta en los años 50 ″