Growing up gay

Ontario-based man shares experiences growing up gay in C.B.

WHITBY, Ont. — At the risk of being boastful and biased, it’s a worldwide fact that Cape Breton Island is one of the most amazing places on the planet.

One cannot diminish its beauty and culture, its sense of equality, and unadulterated kindness.

Unless you’re different.

CHANGING FOR OTHERS

There is no dispute about the former but, for me, the latter two were questionable.

I grew up in Cape Breton and I always knew I was different. I was the kid who never shut up. The kid who never sat down. The kid who had big feelings and even bigger, demonstrative actions to match said feelings.

Some of my family accused me of being overly sensitive. For years, the words “overly sensitive” were worn like a badge of shame. A pink, triangle-shaped badge that set me apart from everyone else.

I tried my best to fit in, but being in French immersion, band and drama didn’t help my case. I joined air cadets and learned to shoot rifles. I took glider lessons. I became a drill sergeant. I tried to help my uncles build houses, bail hay on the farm, all in a thinly veiled attempt to butch it up.

I didn’t feel like I needed to do it for me, but I knew why I needed to do it for everyone else. I heard the whispers. I heard the snickering.

Feeling like an outsider in a place known for its hospitality and generosity really messes with your brain. Your trust factor, or lack thereof, goes through the roof.

Are these people really kind? Is this what being disingenuous looks like? I didn’t know. I just knew that an emotional battle and disconnect from some of my family and community was raging beneath the surface. I left Cape Breton in 1992 and never looked back.

FORCED OUT

In the summer of 1995, I was outed. A summer romance turned toxic and outed me to everyone he could. Those he didn’t get to, got a gossipy earful from a university colleague I considered a friend. My secret and my sexuality was on display for the world to see and I couldn’t deny it any longer. You can’t put the proverbial toothpaste back in the tube no matter how hard you try or wish.

My greatest fear of being rejected and shunned by my family and community was being realized. Or so I thought.

Sure, there were a few people who couldn’t handle it, including some peripheral family members, but for the most part, that East Coast spirit of kindness and those open arms embraced me as warmly as one of my Grandma Anne’s knitted sweaters.

But the damage had been done. People I trusted were no longer trustworthy. Years of unconscious subterfuge and self-preservation were over. I knew who I used to be and I knew who I wanted to be. What I didn’t know was who I was at that moment.

For years after, the feeling of having to change myself to suit others remained strong. I had done it for so long that I didn’t know there was any other way to live.

Change myself to be the best husband. Change myself to be the best actor. Change myself to be the best sibling. Change myself. Change.

Why was I the one always changing? Because I was moving faster than the world.

I was excited about the person I was becoming, but not everyone was there yet. I still got the glances, still heard the snickering. I slowly disconnected from some people who purported to be family, from my community and from my roots. I eventually disappeared. That Dale was gone.

After my marriage ended in 2011, I recall having a conversation with my mom and I must have said something funny or touching, because she started to cry and said, “There’s my Dale. I thought I’d never see him again.”

I cried with her. Tears of joy. Tears of relief. I had lost myself for years, changing in ways I didn’t need to, for people who didn’t deserve it. Change is typically a good thing, but not to the extent that you completely lose yourself.

My mom was proud of who I was and she knew that Dale was still in there somewhere. She threw me a lifeline. Thanks, Mom.

IMPORTANCE OF PRIDE

Pride is an amazing thing, but it is often seen as vanity or entitlement by those who don’t identify with our community.

Jane Austen wrote, “Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.” Although pride and vanity are often used synonymously, the two could not be more different.

The 2SLGBTQ+ community doesn’t celebrate Pride in a vainglorious way. We don’t see ourselves as privileged or special.

But some others do. They ask, “Why isn’t there straight pride?”

There isn't because you don’t need it. In the same way that Black Lives Matter doesn’t mean white lives matter less, Pride is not about saying we’re better than our hetero counterparts.

It’s about being dedicated to the uplifting of 2SLGBTQ+ voices, the celebration of 2SLGBTQ+ culture and the support of 2SLGBTQ+ rights.

I feel a sense of privilege to know that I live in a country where 2SLGBTQ+ rights are stronger than many other places in the world. And for those who just don’t seem to understand, remember that privilege isn't about what you have - it’s about what you’ve never had to endure.

It’s been 31 years since I called Cape Breton home. I no longer feel that sense of disconnect with my family or my roots. I have an amazing life with an exciting career and a man who makes me happier than I ever dreamed possible. I have performed across the continent and travelled even further.

And yet, there is a small part of me that still yearns to return, to refuel and become whole once more. The gay swallow of Capistrano.

Cape Breton raised me, nurtured me, helped define who I was and how I would walk through this world.

The route may have been as winding as the Cabot Trail, but the journey was worth it. Our dear Rita MacNeil penned, “And you never let the hard times take away your soul.” They have not. And whether near or far, home I’ll be.

Dale Miller holds two music degrees from Acadia University and is one of Toronto’s most sought-after vocalists. An award-winning singer/actor for almost 30 years, Dale currently works in television production for HGTV, is a licensed real estate agent and lives in Whitby, Ont. with his partner.