If your gay child’s happiness could talk

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, it would be a soft, quiet, cautious voice reminding you that they are yours. They came from your hopes, your dreams, your desires.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, it would shake. A low, steady vibration that tells you they are scared. It would tell you how lonely it is to be in a world where they’re taught to respect one another and love one another, but not when it’s romantically or deeply emotionally as a spouse.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, it would tell you how sometimes the voices get so loud, telling them they cannot be here. They shouldn’t be here. They don’t belong here.

And if your loving for them needs trying, needs wincing, or makes your brows furrow…

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, it would tell you how uncomfortable it is to see a boy and a girl kiss, and be confused about why they need to do that too. It would feel gray at the thought of holding hands with someone of the opposite sex. It would be taught about boy and girl relationships and feel worried because that makes them feel guilty and ashamed.

If your child’s happiness could talk, it would ask you why there are other happiness’s that can be loud, present, and nobody would care. Why sometimes it feels like they are more important than them.

If your gay child’s happiness could feel, it would want you to wrap your arms around them, reminding them that you love them. It would need you to tell them it will be okay. That you see them.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, it would share with you how it feels to be in that dark, quiet place alone. Wondering where the exit is. Not being able to see, hear, or think. Screaming for help but unsure of how long they can last. Wondering whether this is what life is supposed to be like.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, it would try to show you how sometimes just being seen feels suffocating. Because the stares and the judgment and the dissatisfied tones can feel like knives shoved into their stomach, twisting, turning, grinding. They look down at their bloody feet and see their guts spilled over—a loose pile on the floor.

If your gay child’s happiness could take your hand, they’d bring you to their room. They’d show you where they lay in the corner of their bed to cry at night. They’d show the dolls they hid in the back of the closet, the ones where they’d gently brush their hair and tell them it’ll be okay, especially when the outside voices get too loud.

They’d ask you to sit with them. To play with them. To create music with them. They’d wonder about how it feels like to be unafraid of what others will do to them just because of who they are.

They’d daydream with you. They’d meet new friends and strangers with you.

If your gay child’s happiness could sing, it would be a soft and melodic tune that sends vibrations to your soul. It would make your arms tingle as they explore and tell their story of who they are.

If your gay child’s happiness could move, it would glide in and out of your family. Intertwined and flowing effortlessly, bringing a smile to everyone’s face.

If your gay child’s happiness could hear you, they would want to hear you simply say, “I see you and support you, no matter what”.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, they’d tell you that it hurt when you introduced them as something else to the neighbor.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, they’d tell you thank you for trusting them to know who they are, and listening to them.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, they’d say “I forgive you”, because you tried your best given what information and experience you had.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, they’d say “I really need you”, even when they can see the disappointment in your eyes.

If your gay child’s happiness could talk, they’d tell you that they can feel your hesitation when you are talking about them to other people. And it infuses into their heart as truth. That feeling of needing to be cautious, to hide, to slither and sink so low as to not draw attention. Your gay child’s happiness will learn to take that as their identity.

If your gay child’s happiness could be here with you, right now, they’d simply just want to know you care. That you hear them. They’d want to remind you that loving them doesn’t need trying. And if your loving for them needs trying, needs wincing, or makes your brows furrow, then your gay child’s happiness just wants to know now. So they can be set free. So they can know this road towards your genuine, unconditional love is a dead-end. If your gay child’s happiness could talk, they’d want to tell you—please set me free.

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About Ricky Koo

Ricky Koo is a seasoned corporate executive, entrepreneur, and certified Leadership & Communication Coach with a passion for helping professionals lead with authenticity and impact. With a background in Psychology and as a former Big 4 CPA, he built a distinguished career in Fortune 500 companies across banking, consulting, and technology, leading global teams and navigating complex business environments. Ricky’s unique perspective and strong instincts as a business leader enable him to successfully guide people through challenging situations while developing and fostering strong cultures.

As an instructor for UC Berkeley Extension, he passionately blends a strong technical foundation with real-world leadership experience to deliver transformative learnings on communication, influence, leadership, and career development. His approach bridges science with practicality, creating meaningful impact for audiences worldwide—from the classroom to the boardroom.

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