Big Girls Don’t Cry – Vereen’s Story

March 13, 2016 |

I was born in New Zealand, the fourth and youngest child of the family. I am named after an African American actor, Ben Vereen. Me being neither a boy nor African American didn’t bother my mum, she loved the name and she loved me so it was a perfect fit.

I have always had a great relationship with my mum and my father was a hardworking and committed provider for our family, but he was also an alcoholic. When he drank his character would change from an easy-going, good-natured bloke to a violent, angry and unpredictable man. Too many times to count my father would come home from the pub enraged about something and take it out on my mum, the walls or the furniture. Mum would try and protect us and send us to bed but I would sit in my room, crying, shaking and hoping that the shouting and punching would stop. The nights were filled with fear but each morning a measure of peace would return. Mum adopted the attitude that whatever problem we had, no one else needed to know about it. Our problems were private. I learned at a very early age how to put on a mask to hide my feelings.

I realise now that as a daughter my expectations of men were being shaped by the example of my father. Without being conscious of it I was learning to tolerate instability, insecurity and fear in my relationships with men. My unstable family environment scarred my self-esteem and sense of identity and I was angry. I was angry with my dad for drinking, my mum for putting up with him and angry with God because he didn’t seem interested in fixing this mess.

My family were not at all religious. Church and God were not a feature of my childhood but in the early 1970’s my Aunty Aileen became a Christian. By now my family and I were living in Sydney and when Aunty Aileen came to visit she insisted that we go to church with her. We were reluctant but eventually agreed. I still remember the first moment that I walked in to the church; it was like a presence hit me. The feeling of love and acceptance overwhelmed me; I had never seen or experienced anything like it before. My mum and brother and I continued to attend that church even after Aunty Aileen had returned home to New Zealand. After a few weeks I made the decision to become a Christian and be water baptised. I had never in my life understood acceptance like I did on that day, I truly felt born again.

Church became a big part of my life from that point and it was there that I met the man who was to become my husband. Claude was handsome, charming and loved God. His family was from Mauritius with an Indian background, he spoke French and English and his family welcomed me with open arms. I was smitten. Claude and I dated for a year and then he proposed. I was only 19 but couldn’t wait to be married to the man I loved and start a family with him. We were married on New Years Eve, 1977. The next four years were spent working, serving at church and establishing a home together. Our life was full but also incredibly fulfilling.

Little did I know how much busier it would become. In 1981 I discovered that I was pregnant. I was so excited and so ready to be a mother. The pregnancy progressed well and on Valentines Day 1981 I went into labour. Our son Nathan was born at 2:12am on 15th February, I was in love. Within a few minutes however there was a commotion as the doctor exclaimed ‘There is another pair of feet in here! Our second son Aaron entered the world at 2:15am. All that time I had been pregnant with twins and nobody had picked it up. Four years later our gorgeous daughter Lucille joined the family. I had always dreamed of being a mother but I had no idea how exhausting but incredibly rewarding it could be. I am so grateful to God for the gift of my children.

In 1985 our family of five relocated to Perth. Claude was looking for a change and his sister lived in Perth so it seemed like a good place for a fresh start. Shortly after we had moved there I faced the greatest challenge of my 26 years. I had put the children to bed and was looking for some loose change to put out for the milkman (does anyone else remember those days?). I was looking through Claude’s briefcase to see if he had any when I spotted a book. The cover and title caught my attention ‘The Gay Mystic’. I innocently took the book to him and asked him ‘what’s this book about?’ The question hung in the air unanswered for what seemed like an eternity. In that moment I had a strange sense of foreboding. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

Claude confessed. He told me that he had feelings for members of the same sex and that he didn’t feel like he could fight those feelings any longer. He went on to tell me that although he was going to church with us on Sunday, on Monday nights he was visiting gay clubs around the city. What’s more he had met someone and begun a relationship with them. What I couldn’t comprehend was how excited he was to tell me about this relationship. I was confused, hurt and overwhelmed.

I stayed up all night crying. The feeling of rejection was suffocating and I had never felt so alone. I had invested everything into being a wife and a mother. I had worked so hard to make our home a happy one. I couldn’t understand why he had to look somewhere else, to someone else, to find fulfilment. Wasn’t I enough?

That night was the longest night of my life but even in the midst of my anger, hurt and rejection God was there. He gave me a vision of a ladder, right in front of me and I heard him say, ‘you take the first step. I will help you take more steps. I will help you.’

The next few days were a blur. I did my best to try and understand what Claude was going through. I even visited a gay club with him, but someone I didn’t even recognise had replaced the man I had married. Claude moved out and eventually I moved back to Sydney with my parents. It wasn’t ideal but as a single mother of three children I needed all the help and support I could get.

During this time it felt like I had been stripped of everything, everything but God! I pored over the Bible and was reminded time and time again how much God loved me. As I faced the incomprehensible experience of divorce proceedings and HIV/Aids testing God brought me comfort from His word.

This is my command—be strong and courageous!
Do not be afraid or discouraged.
For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
Joshua 1:9

I knew that God had not left me but as the reality of life as a young, single mum of three began to set in, depression took a hold of me. Shame taunted me and church was the last place I wanted to be. I am so grateful to my friend who showed up one day and said ‘I’m taking you back to church.’ It wasn’t easy, the church was small and more than a few people knew what had happened to me. I was embarrassed and even though I knew people cared about me, it was awkward.

But I persisted. I started serving at church, helping others even when I still needed help my self. I began to form friendships with other mums, particularly other single mums. As I encouraged them I encouraged myself ‘There can always be a fresh start. Tomorrow is a new day and it could be your best day. Don’t give up.’

I still had a long journey ahead of me but those words of Joshua 1:9 became my anchor, ‘The Lord my God is with me wherever I go.’ Thirty years later I look back on my life and realise that those words are still true.