Grandkids

Dear Grandson,

I want to share a story with you about my dear friend, James, from the 1960s. James and I met in college. Back then, things were very different. Society was more rigid, and there were far fewer open conversations about love, gender, or sexual identity. But James, even though he didn’t say it at first, was different in a way that I could sense. He was kind, funny, and brilliant, but he also carried this weight that I couldn’t quite understand.

At the time, there was so much pressure on young people to follow certain paths—to marry someone of the opposite sex, settle down, and live the life that society expected. But for James, something didn’t feel right. He didn’t talk much about his feelings, but I could tell he was struggling. It wasn’t until later that he shared with me that he was gay. Back then, it was something so difficult to talk about, especially in a world that wasn’t accepting of it.

I remember one evening, after we’d spent hours studying together, James sat me down and, almost in a whisper, told me he was gay. It was the first time I’d ever heard someone say it out loud, and I could see the fear in his eyes. He was terrified—not just of being rejected by others, but of the consequences he might face. Society back then didn’t tolerate it. Being gay was not something that was openly accepted. It was seen as taboo, even dangerous. James feared losing friends, family, and opportunities.

“I don’t know what to do, or where to go from here,” he said to me. “I just don’t want anyone to find out.”

I remember feeling my heart break for him. I had always known James was special, but I never realized how much he was hiding inside. He’d told me this secret in confidence, and I promised I would never tell anyone. But more than that, I wanted to support him, to tell him it was okay to be himself.

But back then, there was no Pride parade, no community support, no social media to help someone find others like them. It was a lonely, frightening time for someone like James.

As time went on, James did his best to keep his sexuality hidden. We spent more time together in private—always careful, always watching our backs. I’d see the weight on his shoulders, the way he held back, trying to live in the world as he was expected to. But despite the fear he carried, I could see the glimmer of hope in him, too. The desire to live authentically, but not knowing how or when it would ever be possible.

Years passed. We graduated, and James took a job in another city, one where he hoped he could start fresh. But the struggles never stopped. It was years before he found a group of people who accepted him for who he was—years before he could live openly as a gay man without fear of being ostracized. He had some relationships during those years, but they were always in the shadows, hidden from everyone else, never able to be fully real.

One day, I received a letter from him. In the letter, he told me how he’d met someone, a man named Michael, who made him feel seen and understood in ways he never thought possible. They were building a life together, slowly but surely, in a world that still wasn’t ready to accept them. But James wrote about his happiness—about the joy of simply being himself, the joy of loving someone openly and without fear for the first time.

“I wish we didn’t have to hide anymore,” he wrote. “I’ve spent so many years pretending. I just want to be me, without all the masks.”

That letter was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever read. It was James’ victory over the fear that had plagued him for so long. The world had started to change, slowly, but it was still tough. It wasn’t until decades later, when Pride marches became more visible and society began shifting, that he could walk hand in hand with Michael in public without fear of reprisal.

And it was all because he chose to live his truth, even when it seemed impossible.

What I admire most about James is his courage. The way he kept going, even when the world told him that his love was wrong. He never gave up on finding love and living authentically, even when it seemed like he had to hide who he truly was.

And now, Grandson, I want to share this story with you because I want you to understand something very important: You are lucky to live in a time where people like you are no longer forced to hide. You can be proud of who you are, without fear of judgment. The world today is not perfect, but it is so much more accepting than the world James and I grew up in.

When James finally found his happiness, it wasn’t easy, but it was his truth. I want you to know that no matter what challenges you may face, you deserve the chance to love who you love without fear. You deserve to be yourself, to express your love freely, and to be proud of who you are.

So, no matter what path you choose, whether it’s a path of love, self-discovery, or courage—know that you have my love and support. You are strong, you are worthy, and you deserve a life where you can love openly and fully.

With all my love,
SnazzyGranny

Dear Grandson,

I can see that you’re grappling with something very personal right now, and I want you to know how proud I am of you for being open about it. You’ve shared with me that you think you’re gay, and I want to reassure you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. You’re asking yourself big questions, and I’m glad you came to me, because I want to share something from my experience that might help you as you navigate this part of your life.

When I was your age, things were different—so very different. Back in the 1960s, society didn’t talk much about being gay. It was often misunderstood, hidden, or even condemned. In fact, if someone was openly gay, they risked being judged, isolated, or even treated unfairly. Back then, there were no Pride Parades or open discussions about sexual orientation the way there are today. I know it may seem difficult to imagine, but it was a time when many people lived in silence about their true selves, hiding their feelings to fit in with what society expected.

I remember how scared and confused I felt about my own desires, and how different everything was back then. For many years, I didn’t feel like I could talk about who I was or who I was attracted to. I didn’t have role models or communities to turn to, and the pressure to conform to societal norms was heavy. My world was filled with strict expectations about what was “normal” in relationships, and that definition of “normal” left very little room for anyone who didn’t fit inside those narrow lines.

But here’s the most important thing I’ve learned over the years: who you are, and who you love, is entirely your own journey. You don’t have to follow anyone else’s path. You don’t have to fit into anyone’s expectations of what love or attraction “should” look like. What matters most is that you feel comfortable and true to yourself.

You Are Not Alone.
I want to start by saying that you’re not alone, not now, and not in the past. In the sixties, I didn’t have the resources or the community that exists today, but many others like me felt the same way you do now. Today, there are so many people who love and support each other, no matter who they love. And there’s a whole world of LGBTQ+ communities, friends, and allies out there who will help you feel understood and loved for who you truly are. I want you to know that people, like me, have walked paths filled with confusion and fear, but we found joy in being ourselves, and I know you will, too.

It’s Okay to Take Your Time.
You might feel pressure to define everything about yourself right away. I know I did back in the day. But it’s okay to take your time, to let things unfold as they will, without rushing to fit a label. In my day, I felt I had to choose between labels or silence, but now I see that you can simply be who you are—without needing to decide right this second what everything means. Sometimes, life is about learning who you are through your experiences, your emotions, and your relationships. There’s no rush, and you can take as much time as you need to figure out what feels true to you.

Be Proud of Who You Are.
When I was younger, I didn’t know how to be proud of who I was. Society had so many rules about who we could love and how we should act, and there were so few people talking about diversity in love and attraction. But now, I want you to know that being proud of who you are is one of the most powerful things you can do. Even in the face of a world that sometimes doesn’t understand, walking through life with pride, confidence, and self-respect is one of the strongest things anyone can do. You are unique, special, and worthy of love—exactly as you are.

There Will Be Challenges, But You Are Strong.
In the past, when I was your age, it was far more difficult to express yourself. I faced many challenges, many obstacles, and often felt alone. But I got through them because I had people who supported me—family, friends, and even strangers who reached out with kindness and acceptance when I needed it most. Today, there are so many more people who stand together and fight for equality, and those voices of love and acceptance are growing stronger every day. But know this: You are resilient. Life may throw challenges your way, but you have the strength to overcome them, and you have a community of people who will stand with you.

Love is About Connection, Not Labels.
I want to share something very important with you: Love is about connection. It’s not about labels, gender, or expectations from others. It’s about the deep emotional bond you share with someone who understands you, supports you, and makes you feel safe and cherished. Whether you love a man or a woman, or someone else entirely, the most important thing is the respect, trust, and care you build together. Don’t let the world define your love. You have the power to define it yourself, and love is love, no matter who it’s with.

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Final Thought:

If I could go back and speak to my younger self, I would tell her to stop hiding. To stop worrying about what others thought. To stop feeling afraid of who she was. It took me years to fully embrace myself, to step into the truth of my identity. But I want you to know this: You do not have to go through that same journey of fear and silence.

I love you for exactly who you are, and I want you to always remember that there is nothing wrong with you. You are whole, and you are loved, and as time goes on, you’ll learn that the most important thing is to accept and honor your own truth. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel that you are less than because of who you love.

You are strong, you are special, and above all, you are deserving of all the love and happiness this world has to offer. I am here for you, always.

With all my love,
SnazzyGranny

My Dear Lily,
You asked me a question recently that I’ve thought about for days: When is the right time to lose your virginity? I could see the uncertainty in your eyes as you asked me, and I could feel the weight of it, too. It’s such a personal question, one that I wish I had been given clearer guidance on when I was your age. But the truth is, the answer isn’t simple, and there isn’t just one right answer.
In my time, when I was your age, the world was a very different place. The 1960s and 70s had just given birth to the sexual revolution, and women were starting to experience freedom in ways that had never been available to them before. We could go on the Pill, attend feminist protests, and engage in casual sex without the fear of unwanted pregnancies. But, despite all of this newfound freedom, I was still told by society that my purity was a reflection of my worth. I was told that I should wait until I was in a committed relationship, that I should keep my body for a man who would love me forever.
I remember losing my virginity to Tom, the boy I thought I would marry. I was in my teens, and at that time, I had been conditioned to believe that sex and love were inseparable. I felt both excitement and fear. I wanted it, but I also didn’t fully understand the consequences—emotionally or physically. I had been taught that this was the ultimate form of intimacy, but I hadn’t yet realized that sex is not just about love, and it’s certainly not about keeping something locked away until the right person comes along.
What I’ve learned, my dear, is that there isn’t a right time for everyone. There’s only the right time for you. So, let me share a few things I’ve learned through my experiences.

Sex Should Be About You, Not Anyone Else
When I first had sex, I felt like it was something I was supposed to do, not something I truly wanted to experience for myself. The pressure was immense. I had romanticized the idea of what it should feel like, but the reality was far different. I didn’t know what I liked, I didn’t understand my own body, and I wasn’t ready to communicate openly about my needs. And that’s okay, I suppose, but it’s also why I wish someone had told me that it’s okay to wait until you understand your own desires, your own body, and your own boundaries.
You see, Lily, the problem wasn’t necessarily the act itself, but that I thought I had to do it to prove something to someone else—whether that was to my partner or society. That’s why I encourage you to wait until it’s not about meeting someone else’s expectations, but about meeting your own. It’s okay if you don’t have all the answers now; take your time. Learn about what makes you feel good, what makes you feel safe, and what makes you feel in control.

Understand Your Body First
The notion of virginity itself can be a bit of a trap. I used to think that losing my virginity was a moment that defined me—a moment I could never take back. But the more I grew, the more I realized that there is no one singular moment when you become a woman. You’re already a woman in every sense of the word, regardless of your sexual experience. What matters more is how you come to understand and appreciate your body.
Sex is not a race, Lily. You don’t need to compare yourself to others or follow a timeline that society hands you. Learn what feels good to you, and don’t be afraid to explore that in your own time. Only when you are connected to your body—when you understand it and appreciate it—will you be ready to share it with someone else.

Consent Is Everything
As you grow older, you will begin to hear this word more often—consent. It’s a simple word, but one that holds so much power. In my day, consent was often assumed—there was an unspoken rule that once you were in a relationship, certain things were expected. But today, thank goodness, the conversation about consent is louder and clearer.
Never feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do. Never. Whether it’s a kiss, a touch, or something more intimate, you have the right to say no at any point, no matter what. Sex should be something that both you and your partner want, and it should be mutual in every sense. If you don’t feel comfortable, if you don’t feel ready, you have every right to say “I’m not ready yet.”
In the past, women were often told that sex was about pleasing a partner, but the reality is it should be about mutual respect, communication, and shared desire. If a person truly cares for you, they will respect your boundaries. If they don’t, they’re not the right person to share that intimate part of yourself with.

The Right Partner Makes All the Difference
I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to wait for the right person. But the right person doesn’t necessarily mean the person who you think you’re supposed to marry or be with forever. It means someone who respects you, supports you, and makes you feel safe—not just in bed, but in all aspects of life.
When I was your age, I was eager to find “the one,” and I thought sex was part of that equation. The truth is, while there can be deep emotional connections in sex, it doesn’t guarantee that someone will be the person you grow old with. Make sure you’re with someone who is honest with you, someone who listens to you, and, most importantly, someone who respects you, especially when it comes to matters of intimacy.
And remember: Your worth is not defined by your sexual experiences. No matter how many times you’ve had sex or not, no matter who you’ve had it with, you are worthy of love, respect, and understanding.

There’s No “Perfect” First Time
Lily, if I’m being honest, my first time wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t romantic in the way I had imagined it, and it wasn’t some beautiful, life-changing moment. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I took the step when I was ready—and so will you, when the time comes. There’s no “perfect” moment, no perfect time, and certainly no perfect person who will make everything magical. But there is the right time for you—when you feel comfortable, safe, and eager to take that step because you want to

Love SnazzyGranny.

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