Finding A Way Into Acceptance

Lynn Koval and her sister, Lysa Broussard, wanted to open a business in South Mississippi. It sounded like a good idea, except they wanted to open a gay bar in South Mississippi where, Lynn Koval says she’s seen five gay bars fail in the past decade.

Not good business, maybe, but the sisters went ahead with their plan and opened Just Us Lounge on Division Street in Biloxi — which is where yours truly was born, by the way … not in the bar, I mean, but in Biloxi. But one thing they did a little differently than other gay bars in town, was that they decided to give back to the community in any and every way they could. 

In fact, for the past 13 Christmases, Just Us Lounge has adopted every South Mississippi Angel Tree child with HIV or AIDS and the bar buys those kids every single thing on their “wish list.” Just Us Lounge has also donated turkeys to the Back Bay Mission in Biloxi and often host all kinds of benefits in their bar. Last month, Just Us hosted a benefit night for Walk for Down Syndrome and all the money from the cover charge was donated to the organization. Lysa Broussard hopes the benefit becomes an annual fundraiser.

"We are a viable resource, not just for the LGBT community but the entire community – period. As long as we can meet overhead, our goal is to give back to our community."—Lynn Koval

And for the record, Just Us has been in business since 1998 in Biloxi, and in 1999 the sisters merged Just Us with another bar Sanctuary. They wanted Just Us to provide a safe social gathering place for the LBT community in South Mississippi, but when the bar opened the sign out front welcomed all people, gay and straight.

Now, it wasn’t always nice and sweet. When Just Us first opened fifteen years ago, Lynn Koval was greeted at the front door by three hanging nooses; the bar has also been protested by white supremacists, but Lynn and Lysa weren’t giving up.

"I told my staff that if a Molotov cocktail didn't come through our doors the first year, we would be open for 20 years-plus."—Lynn Koval

And they’re closing in on that mark, making the club open to the entire community, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days per year. And they’ve hosted all kinds of people over the years, including Biloxi Mayor A.J. Holloway and LGBT servicemen and women who are stationed at nearby Keesler Air Force Base — where, yes, I was born.

Lysa Broussard says that the key to the success of Just Us, when many other gay bars have failed, is because of the unique Coast community, which she calls a more accepting melting pot community than is found in other parts of the state.

I don’t remember much about my time in Mississippi, not because I blocked it out, but because my family moved to California when I was six months old, but I’ve always been annoyed by the ignorance of some folks in the state, the bigotry, racism and homophobia of some people in the state.

Still it’s a pleasant surprise to hear of such an accepting place down in the southernmost part of a southernmost state where being gay isn’t any different, where the gays bars are community supporters, where people help one another out no matter your race or gender or orientation.

I might wanna go check out my birthplace, and a bar or two, as an adult one day. 

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Mom

This is one of my favorite pictures of Mom.

I often make fun of trailer park people, but I'm allowed. See, I was practically born in a trailer park. Okay, so I was born in a hospital in Biloxi, but we lived in a trailer. Whatever. As you can see, it was a big red trailer that my Dad hauled from Mississippi to California. With Mom, my big sister, and me.

They say Mom's know their sons are gay, often before the sons themselves know it...or at least are willing to admit to anyone including themselves. I think that was true of my Mom. One Thanksgiving she asked me THAT question. I think I'd always known it was coming, but I was never prepared for it. We were sitting in the living room of their house in Blue Canyon and the pellet stove was dropping pellets, sparking a fire and warming the house. It was just Mom and me in the living room that day, and she asked me. "Are you gay?"

I stammered. Turned every shade of red imaginable. And began to sweat.

"Because it must be hard for you," she said. "You must feel quite alone, not knowing how anyone will react. But it's okay."

And I reacted. "No."I said, quite firmly, rubbing my palms on my Levis to wipe the perspiration away. "I'm not."

And she said that was okay. But it wasn't. Because I was. Because I wasn't really ready to admit it to my family. So I reacted. I went upstairs to the room I stayed in, packed my bags and said I had to go. And I did. And I stayed away and I didn't call....except to say that I couldn't come up on Christmas. I was doing something else that year and couldn't make it. Sorry.

My Dad called just before the holidays and asked if I'd drive up to their house. They wanted to exchange gifts since I wouldn't be there. Stubborn, hard-headed fool that I was....am...I said I could come up for the day only.

So I drove up and we exchanged gifts. My Mom was sleeping when I got there, but she came out and sat down at the kitchen table while I opened my gift. Then my Dad left the room and Mom started to cry. Started to apologize. To me! She was sorry if she'd upset me, hurt my feelings, made me mad. She was sorry. I was still angry. I was still in a closet somewhere, unwilling, unable to say those words to anyone, much less my own mother. My mother who knew, because mothers always seem to know, even before their sons.

It wasn't too much longer after that when I did come out. And my mother didn't say, "I knew." She didn't smirk like she was saying, "Tell me something I don't know."She said she loved me. And when I met Carlos and moved three-thousand miles away to be with him, she said she was thrilled to have another son-in-law. She made him feel welcome from the moment she laid eyes on him. That's my mom. And Dad? His first words to me after I came out: Ï love you son." His words to me on the day I left California for Florida: "Be happy."

She loved me.

My mother died on February 17, 2007. She was a fantastic woman. Wife mother nurse artist chef baker deli-owner general store-owner snow blower. Mother. She and my dad were married just shy of fifty-two years. Talk about love.


There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about my mother and wish she was here. Not a day goes by that something doesn't happen and I want to call her and tell her. But I do talk to her. I do tell her the silly things. The important things. The sad things. The single most important thing of all.


I love you, Mom.