74 november 2001 and since my romances barely lasted two months, I did not try to untangle my feelings for the girls on whom I had crushes or the boys I thought were cute. Even if my parents had already assumed my sexual orientation as a result of my affiliation with gay friends or my lack of boyfriends, I needed to develop my own understanding of sexuality and become com- fortable with my sexual identity. A year after my mother’s vote of confidence in our kitchen, I was a freshman at the University of California at Berkeley. I became intimately involved with a female friend and began to negotiate a gay identity; ultimately, it would take another two years before I would come out to my parents, not to their surprise. Ironically, it was not an easy task. My com- ing out was a political statement. Although I was ec- static that my parents accepted me with warm smiles and embraced me with hugs when I came out to them, I was making a conscious decision to become a target of oppression. Society’s heterosexual ma- jority, I knew, would not embrace me with those same smiles and hugs. Yet, when I began to witness a handful of my gay and lesbian friends become os- tracized by their loved ones after they came out to their families, it became apparent that I should not fear rejection from a homophobic society, when the people I most loved had accepted my sexual orien- tation unconditionally. After witnessing the alienation of my friends, I promised myself never to be in the closet—“the identity prison”—regarding my homosexuality. I vowed to overcome the tradition of silence. Unfor- tunately, my profession as a teacher lends itself to just this dilemma. Coming out to my students dif- fered greatly from confirming my sexual orientation with my supportive loved ones. With 120 new stu- dents every fall (I had fewer students than most En- glish teachers because I taught ELL students), I pondered my motivation and the value of revealing my sexual orientation. Why should I expose such a personal issue? Will students stop using language such as “fag” and “gay” to belittle their peers? I taught the 1999–2000 school year at Berkeley High School, in Berkeley, California. My world literature classes discussed and analyzed thematic units: the powerful and the powerless, difference and diversity, social and political injustice, and prejudice. We read JESSICA PARKER was washing the dishes in our small, shingled home in Sonoma, California, when my mother, who was eyeing me from the dining room, said, “You know, honey, your father and I will still love you if you are gay.” My hands immediately froze. I snapped back in an irritated tone, “Mother, I am not gay. How could you think something like that?” and continued with the nightly routine of scrubbing and rinsing. ■ Throughout my high school years, most of my best friends were gay. Despite this fact, I did not question my own sexu- ality. I felt emotionally immature compared to my peers who had long-lasting relationships, Language: A Pernicious and Powerful Tool I will overcome the tradition of silence. —Anzaldua 59 I Copyright © 2001 by the National Council of Teachers of English. All rights reserved.