She explained how he refused to mingle with other boys – except for Justice*, 16, one particularly close male friend. Even more disturbingly, when a girl in the playground told him he was good-looking and teasingly asked him if he'd like to kiss her, Jabu had exploded in anger, then burst into tears and ran off.

The meeting was a wake-up call for Bareng, who then began recalling several of Jabu's actions she'd never taken seriously before.

"I once came home from work to find him and Justice in the bedroom," she says. "They had their arms around each other, but pulled apart quickly as soon as they heard me come in. They were both very flustered – it was clear they'd been embracing. It upset me, but I thought it wiser not to say anything – I assumed they'd just been kidding around."

Yet, as time progressed, other aspects of Jabu's behaviour began to puzzle her.

"He began spending more and more time with Justice, or on his own. I also found some make-up in his schoolbag which he'd pinched from his older sister's bedroom. No matter how often I tried to draw him out and get him to tell me what was worrying him, he'd say – politely, but firmly – that nothing was wrong," she recalls.

Slowly, Bareng faced the possibility that her son might be a transvestite or gay. It weighed heavily upon her: she'd borne him out of wedlock, at the age of 19 – to the horror of her devoutly religious family – and the thought that this same child might now be homosexual was daunting." I feared I may have failed both as a mother and a Christian," she says. "My own mother was a pillar of her church congregation, and highly respected in the community. How would a gay grandson reflect on her public image?"

Seeking answers
Bareng finally confided her fears to her friends, who advised her to seek professional help.

"I knew Jabu's behaviour wasn't normal. I suspected he was having an identity crisis, or battling to establish his sexuality. But if he was gay, did he even realise it himself? And if he didn't, would my intervention add to his confusion?"

After a few sessions with the therapist, Bareng learnt that – since her son had had no father-figure on which to model his behaviour – he was, indeed, sexually confused, but that there was a high probability he was also homosexual. The therapist advised her to be as supportive and understanding as possible, since adolescence is always a difficult time, even for heterosexual youngsters: for gay ones, it's even worse, since they have to contend with the sneers and contempt of their peers.

Above all, Bareng realised her son's happiness was ultimately far more important than her fear of tarnishing the family's public image. "No-one asks to be gay. No-one can help it, either. You're born like that, and – in fact – homosexuality is no longer considered an abnormality in many countries, and has even been removed from the list of psychological deviances for professionals. It's just the social stigma that makes it traumatic," she says. "Jabu's as much my son as ever, and I love him no less for his sexual orientation. Once he realised I wasn't judging him, he opened up, was far more relaxed and we're closer than we've ever been."

For many other gay people, the contempt and derision of family is the first of many painful blows they'll have to come to terms with in the struggle to live a genuine life.

Pastor Agrippa Kathide of the Apostolic Faith Mission, who's written two books on sexuality, says more families would do well to adopt Bareng's attitude. "Rejection is the most terrible way of resolving any problem," he says. "A parent can't love a child only on condition he or she isn't gay. The church – and, indeed, Christianity – are based on the principles of love."

Pastor Agrippa also says many parents battle with their own personal issues, which make it difficult for them to accept their children's homosexuality.

"If Bareng was carrying unresolved guilt for things she herself had done in the past, and then placed this burden on her son's shoulders, she'd be projecting her prejudices onto him and preventing him from discovering his identity," he explains.

The hardest thing to say
Nhlanhla*, 26, a call centre agent, sadly admits his relationship with his mother has been negatively affected because of his sexual orientation.

"I've never sat her down and told her I'm homosexual, but I've been free and open in my behaviour. My family's conservative and wouldn't handle a formal announcement that I'm gay, so I let them draw their own conclusions.

Pretoria-based psychotherapist Nomsa Nkuna explains how stereotypes based on culture and religion make it difficult for families to accept homosexuality. "Parents who battle with their kids' sexual orientation should never neglect their duties as nurturers and care-givers. It's not good parenting to disregard a child because he or she has turned out different to what you expected," she cautions.

Proudly Gay
S'manga Mhlanza, 28, a Durban-based hairstylist, says he's "proudly gay" because his family's accepted him the way he is. "I've never been in the closet," he laughs. "I've always seen women as friends, rather than partners. Even at a young age, I knew I was different from other boys – and my family never commented on it being strange or inappropriate."

S'manga's sister Mahle, 38, clearly recalls the day her brother finally told her he was homosexual." He sat me down and told me he wanted to confide in me. When he said he was gay, I wasn't shocked. To me, he was still my beloved little brother. He asked me to break the news to the family at an upcoming umemulo (traditional ceremony).

"I must admit, I was pretty nervous when I started talking to everyone. But I explained to all of them what S'manga had told me – and I was astonished by my family's reaction. There was silence for a few minutes, but then they started laughing and said it had been obvious all along. It was a great evening!"

Liz Dooley, director at the SA Family Life Centre, says once parents acknowledge the loss of their dreams for their children, it's possible to accept them as gays.

Letting go
"Parents' negative reactions to homosexuality often stem from their personal disappointment, grief and shock. The fantasies they've had of ilobolo, wives and grandchildren come to an abrupt end.

"Yet, as parents, we can't determine our children's sexual orientation. Besides, gay people are completely normal in every sphere of their lives: they function in exactly the same way as heterosexuals, apart from their sexual preferences," she says. She advises families to avoid accepting stereotypes of gay people as a basis for judgement. For example, it's important to remember that not all male gays are effeminate, not all lesbians are butch and not all cross-dressers and transvestites are homosexual.

"Children hate to disappoint their parents, but when the parents aren't able to accept the children, they jeopardise their entire relationship with them," she says." Love is the best way for them to work through their issues together."

Mom and Her
It's also the best way for children to deal with gay parents – a less common, but equally traumatic discovery, as Meshack*, 25, knows.

"When my mom and dad got divorced, I was only 11," he recalls. "My dad moved out of our home, and thereafter I noticed my mom never dated any men again, even though she was still a young woman and very attractive. At first, I didn't dwell on it – but later, it began to puzzle me.

"Then I became aware she was spending a great deal of time with a female friend of hers, who was sleeping over at our house a few nights a week. They'd sleep in the bed my mom had shared with my dad, and I'd hear them talking and laughing together late into the night.

"They started spending whole weekends together, and gradually it dawned on me that my mom was happier than she'd ever been when my dad was around. It took a lot of courage to talk to her about it, but when I was 18, I finally did. I asked her outright whether she was gay – and she said she was.

"It was a very emotional scene: she cried, and said she'd never known how to tell anyone about it. She'd never wanted to get married at all, she said, but her parents had expected her to, so she'd done it to please them. Once she was divorced, she finally found the freedom to have a satisfying sexual relationship with another woman.

"It was a tremendous shock for me, at first. I admit I resented her partner's presence, and found myself wishing my mom was like all the other mothers I knew. I was ashamed and confused, as if my mother was some kind of freak. But I came to realise I was being childish and selfish: this was who she was, this was what she wanted and needed – so who was I to stand in her way? Besides, she kept reassuring me she'd never regretting having me, even if she'd been unhappy married to my dad."

Meshack also realised how important his support was in helping his mother establish herself out the closet." People in the community ostracised her once she'd come out. She wasn't invited to former friends' homes anymore, and she was snubbed at church, which hurt her deeply. Even some of our relatives turned their backs on her. It made me aware of how ignorant and cruel people can be: my mom 's a wonderful woman. Why should her sexual orientation change her value for other people?" he asks.

Learning to accept
Discovering someone you've known and needed all your life is gay can be a traumatic experience – but, as anyone who's been through it can attest, it's no indication of their worth or their love for you. Family is the first port of call when we need support: and if we let our brothers, sisters, parents and children down when they need us most, it's not them who've failed us by coming out – it's we who've failed them by dragging them back in.
*Not their real names.