[text ID: a comment in the Reddit thread linked in this Tumblr post by user harperhug. the Reddit comment is written by user StormBeyondTime and reads as follows: And they lacked the spine to face those feelings and what they could mean, especially long-term, and the wisdom to realize whatever they chose would be hard path. It sounds like instead they went hunting for... something... and found some online cultish thing that promised them they could have everything without paying anything. (Except the money to the cult.) Part of both men's current problem is they're shocked their script didn't work, and they lack the wisdom to handle it. It's odd I find this story now, when it's been around for two months just on [Reddit forum Best of Redditor Updates]. See, my maternal grandfather died recently. Both he and grandma's (RIP) families noped out of Germany after Hitler took over. They were also very heavily old school Catholic. But Grandpa, as long as I could remember, wore women's clothing and long hair. By the time I was a teen, he usually had a man (different men, one at a time) that mother referred to as an "uncle", but got mad when I asked how he was related. (Again, Catholic, so big extended family. Lots and lots of various degrees of cousin, etc.) And Grandpa was living out in the RV he and Grandma owned. I didn't know enough then. I didn't know enough until I was in my thirties and began facing down the "gay and transgender people are sinners" poison I'd been raised on. It's hard looking at yourself and realizing what you thought was true was a toxic lie. I had some good online friends that helped me through what's a really painful process. But I came out from the other side with a new truth: We're all people, regardless of who we are or who we love. But now I know Grandpa was either a crossdressing gay man, or a transgender woman. Someone who had to bury who they were because of religion and culture. Someone who was only able to show themselves a little as culture changed. But someone who was willing to face who he was in a world that denied his self. And Grandma was a strong woman who knew who he was and let him be himself, while helping to cover for him. I was never able to figure out a way to say, "Who are you, Grandpa? Are you Grandma? I love you no matter what." But when I compare the strength of my grandparents who lived through much less accepting times to these two juvenile "men", the latter come up lacking. Love you, Grandpa. Be who you are. /end ID]
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