Back in the OC

“Don’t you know you can’t go home again?”

—Writer Ella Winter’s remark to novelist Thomas Wolfe

December 1989

“She’s finally home, George!”

My mom’s searing voice pierced the LAX International Arrivals Hall while my dad, George, just smiled, remaining silent as usual.

I had survived the twelve-hour flight from Paris, plus the inferno of Border Control and Baggage Claim afterward. Finally, I was waving to my parents from the arrivals ramp. But another voice was yelling just as loud in my head: “What the f_ have you done with your life?”

Good question. The truth was, I had been looking for my home since I was fourteen years old, and I still was. Sure, the address of my family’s four-bedroom house in Westminster with its green shag carpeting was the one I wrote on official documents, but I felt like I had vacated it for good once I left for college in 1974.

“You’ll be a fish in water,” my Westminster High School English teacher, Mrs. F., assured me when I showed her my UC Berkeley acceptance letter. I was counting on her being right. It was pretty tough being a Jewish feminist teenager who wore a black moratorium armband to protest the Vietnam War in a school where the entire clique of popular students held Bible study in the quad every morning recess.

Luckily, Mrs. F. was right: I definitely found my intellectual home at “Berzerkley”. Yet I did not find an emotionally and romantically satisfying one despite the Sexual Revolution of the 1970s. Guys just didn’t mean that much to me. That opportunity didn’t come until I moved to San Francisco four years after my graduation to live with a couple of feminist writers who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted. They also happened to be lesbians. Thanks to them, I finally met that someone special: Jocelyne, a French wife and mother, who finally came out to herself and changed my life in the process. Unlike all the guys I had met at Berkeley, our intellectual, emotional, and physical attraction was the real thing. I was smitten and finally home.

I followed Jocelyne to her small town in France (after her divorce was finalized), where we raised her two young children.

However, a small town like that required us to live in a “don’t ask, don’t tell” environment. That was a far cry from San Francisco. Despite that, my life went from black-and-white to Technicolor just like Dorothy, except that I didn’t need to find my way home. In France with Jocelyne, I was home.

Yet, like most great first loves, ours came to an end seven years later. My home in France fell apart, and I moved out. Unfortunately, I found myself alone and totally in the closet in this provincial French town with no LGBT community or family to depend on. I tried to stick it out for a year, but as much as I loved France, it was time for me to pack it up and return to the States for my own mental health.

So, that’s why I’m at LAX in the first place. My parents had graciously offered for me to move back in with them in their Westminster home so I could pick up the pieces and start my life up again. That first night back, I found myself in my teenage bedroom with the white rattan headboard and nightstand next to my scuffed-up Samsonite with the CDG→LAX tags intact. But there was no time to feel sorry for myself. After shedding my Parisian sheepskin coat and more than a few tears, I hung up my clothes. The good news was that I could easily open the door to this closet, thanks to my parents’ acceptance of my sexuality.

First things first: I had to find a good job. So, the next morning, I hit the Golden West College Library to study for the CBEST (California Basic Educational Skills Test), the initial step when applying to a teacher preparation program. Before leaving France, I had decided to become an elementary public-school teacher since I had taught French children. I loved it.

Cal State Fullerton fit the bill because it would give me the best chance of finding a position in Orange County.

Sample Question 1: Mary Ellen thinks she can save $5.40 from her allowance each week to put toward a game console. The game console costs about $150.00. Rounding the amount she saves each week to the nearest dollar, how many weeks will it take her to save enough to buy the console?

You gotta be kidding, I muttered. This is how California determines if you are ready to go into a teacher prep program?

I got up to stretch and browse the stacks, and there it was: Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown, just sitting on a shelf. A little further down the aisle was The Mayor of Castro Street by Randy Shilts, and then The Celluloid Closet by Vito Russo. Since when did an Orange County public community college allow books like these? The last time I had seen Orange County in the news was in 1978 when the Briggs Initiative, which sought to ban gay men and lesbians from working in California public schools, was on the ballot. Luckily, it had failed, but was the presence of these books on the shelves a sign that something had shifted?

May 1991

“Look here, and you’ll probably find an event where you could meet some friends.” My therapist at the Gay and Lesbian Center of Orange County (then in Garden Grove) gave me a newspaper entitled The Lesbian News, otherwise known as the LN.

I had found the Center in the Yellow Pages and started going there for counseling. I needed to figure out why, halfway around the world, Jocelyne and I had broken up and how I could adapt  to my new reality. Once inside my car, I peeked inside the newspaper, and sure enough, there was an announcement for a “Professional Lesbians’ Brunch” in Culver City on Mother’s Day. A bit of a drive, but worth it if I could make some lesbian friends there.

When I walked into the condo, there was a spread of lox, bagels, cream cheese, and fruit, as well as a nice-looking woman in a fish sweater sitting in an armchair. I figured she might be interesting, so I headed over to sit by her. Turns out she was a violinist and— guess what?— also living in her parents’ house in West Los Angeles. What were the chances? She had recently graduated from a NYC conservatory and was also  trying to adapt to her new environment by establishing herself in the LA music business. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet up in a couple of weeks when she would be playing at the Irvine Barclay Theater. It was great to finally find a lesbian friend I could relate to.

January 1992

There is nothing like student teaching in an elementary school to make you go back deep into the closet. Pictures of husbands and kids on most of the teachers’ desks. Students asking me if I was married or if I had any kids. At the age of 33,  I was definitely an outlier in the credential program. I didn’t tell anybody about why I was in France, just mentioned that I had been teaching there. However, there was another woman in the program who seemed kind of butch. She was serious about getting the program over with, just like me. We didn’t have a chance to talk, but who knows? Maybe, some other time.

My fish sweater friend (Lisa) and I have been seeing each other and figured out we had a lot in common, though. In fact, the more we saw each other, the more she began to feel like home to me, a home right here in Orange County. We were even attracted to each other, and before the month was out, we became an “item”. Even though it happened fast, we used our heads to each stay in our respective parents’ houses so we could save up for a down payment on our own place. Some of my newfound OC friends would invite us to house sit for them while they were away on vacation. It was definitely better than making out in the backseat of Lisa’s Thunderbird at night in the unlit part of the Mimi’s Café parking lot on Beach Boulevard.

August 1992

I finally got my own classroom in Orange County, but of course, I didn’t place any pictures of Lisa on my desk, even though I wanted to. Some of the other teachers asked me if I was married. When I replied “no,” they didn’t mention it again. As for my sixth-grade students, I just told them that they were all “my kids.”

Before taking my new position, I did confirm with a lawyer that LGBT teachers in California had no legal protections when it came to talking about any gay or lesbian issues in class. The lawyer advised me to stay silent on my own situation as well, even with my colleagues.

The big surprise, however, was that the “butch” student teacher I had met at Cal State Fullerton was now teaching at my school! We chitchatted in the parking lot from time to time, but not about anything personal. I noticed that she didn’t have any pictures of a husband or kids on her desk either. Just two big dogs.

May 2001

We flipped our first house in Huntington Beach  and bought a new one with an extra bedroom so Lisa could have a music room. We do have fond memories of the other house because it was there that we had our “commitment ceremony” since we couldn’t get legally married. Both of our families and friends came, and we even had a rabbi officiate. The best part was having our parents walk us down the aisle (e.g., our hallway). When the photographer came before the event to take some pictures of us on the front steps of the house, the plumber and his wife across the street watched with curiosity.  The next day, the wife came up to me and mentioned how nice we looked. I didn’t have the courage to tell her why we had been all dressed up, but at least she had made an effort to compliment us.

The other news is that about a year before our ceremony, the “butch” teacher called me to see if I could pick her up on my way to work since her car had broken down. When I arrived, out walked an even butchier-looking woman. She extended her hand to shake mine and thanked me for picking up her “girl.”

“No problem,” I replied. “It’s what one lesbian does for another!” And with that, we were all out to each other.

I have to admit, it’s great to have someone on staff to be out to, but we have to be extra careful. There are some staff members who are really religious, and we still don’t have any rights. I guess this would just have to be “our little secret.”

January 2005

I finally didn’t have to hide who I was anymore (at least not from the school district office). California amended the domestic partnership law so that insurance plans are required to offer equal benefits to spouses and domestic partners. When I heard that, I walked into Human Resources to sign Lisa up for my medical insurance. My heart was beating so fast, especially when I saw the secretary. She was the same one who used to be the school clerk where I got my first teaching job! But she didn’t even bat an eyelid when I told her why I was there.

I signed all the necessary paperwork so Lisa didn’t have to worry about purchasing health insurance at exorbitant rates. I walked out of there feeling like the closet was opening up a bit more.

August 2008

The California Supreme Court ruled last May  that denying same-sex couples the ability to marry violated the California Constitution. So, today Lisa and I drove down to the Old Orange County Courthouse in Santa Ana and exchanged vows in front of the representative of the Clerk-Recorder’s Office and our families. Lisa’s sister threw some confetti, and then my new spouse and I started crying. We never thought such a thing would ever be possible.

June 2015

I was waiting for my taco in the Stanton Naugles drive-through on Beach Boulevard when my cell phone rang. “Did you hear the US Supreme Court ruling?” My cousin yelled into the phone. I told her I hadn’t. “Those justices ruled 5-4 that any state-level bans on same-sex marriage violated the due process and equal protection clauses of the 14th Amendment. Congratulations! You and Lisa can now be legally married in any state.”

I had never had a taco that tasted as good as that one.

March 2018

I’m only a couple of months away from retirement, but something unbelievable happened today. The Director of Pupil Services in the school district came to our faculty meeting to introduce a trainer from the same  LGBT Center that I had first gone to 28 years ago. He was there to guide us on how to handle LGBTQ  issues in the elementary school classroom. He explained the difference between gender and sexuality, the appropriate resources for elementary-age children, what rights LGBTQ students possessed under California law, and what role we as educators could play in fostering tolerance on our campuses. For the first time, I realized that I could talk about LGBTQ issues to my students and be protected by the law. The other teachers had a lot of good questions and were excited to make our campus safe for everyone.

 It took twenty-six years for me to see this with my own eyes, but better late than never.

July 2026

I have now been retired for eight years. I have to say that all the progress that’s been made in LGBTQ laws and attitudes has hit some major roadblocks. Stripping transgender people of their rights, banning books with LGBTQ content in school and public libraries, and fights between parents and teachers/school administrators at school board meetings over student privacy. These actions have been direct assaults on all the progress that was made.

Living in Huntington Beach, Lisa and I are familiar with these battles every day due to a very conservative City Council. Yet, at the same time, positive things have appeared faster than I had ever expected in Orange County. Before the 2008 election, Proposition 8, which mandated marriage to be only between a man and a woman, was strongly supported by the Religious Right. I was heartened to hear so many of my colleagues at school ask me if I could get them “No on 8” yard signs. The proposition passed much to our dismay, but we knew it was only a matter of time before it would be ruled unconstitutional.

Then during the COVID shutdown, some people in our neighborhood formed a weekly driveway “get-together” called “Wine Wednesday.”  Although these were people I would normally just honk and wave to, I decided to check it out because my cabin fever was at an all-time high. I was very hesitant to come out when having to answer the weekly ice-breakers on “what actor/actress I would date,” etc., but when I did, it didn’t faze them at all. They totally accepted Lisa and me, and since that time, we have been meeting with them not only for driveway get-togethers, but also for wedding anniversaries, birthdays, dinners out, and parties for all the major holidays. We are just treated like any other couple there. How refreshing!

For the first time since I arrived at that LAX International Arrivals Terminal in December 1989, I feel totally at home in the OC. Granted, Lisa and I have been very lucky with family, friends, and now neighbors, but we know that California law, changing attitudes, and time are on our side.

It only took thirty-seven years of my lifetime to experience it, but when you’re in the home that feels like the right one, who’s counting?

L.A. Young lives in Huntington Beach with her wife and their miniature poodle. A winner of the 2023 Memoir Showcase competition from the San Diego Memoir Writers Association, L.A.’s work has appeared in Orange Coast magazine, the California Educator, Dorothy Parker’s Ashes, and Shaking the Tree: Brazen. Short. Memoir among others. She is currently writing a coming-of-age memoir about her experiences as a gay woman in 1970s San Francisco and 1980s France. Discover more of her work on Medium and LAYoungAuthor.com.