An open letter to my parents
I remember that morning, the one where the sun was shining and the air was soft and the trees stood tall as their armor was stripped off by the changing seasons. Oh, is that not enough to jog your memory?
Well, how about this then? This was the day that you sobbed and clutched your breast when you found those texts from me. The ones which I sent under a protective shroud of midnight, hoping against all odds that it would be able to protect me. It didn't.
You looked at me with watering eyes and asked if I was a lesbian. I answered that I honestly didn't know, I said I was bi, and the hope I saw in your eyes when you realized that I still liked guys was enough to make me wish I had said yes.
You don't know this, but I heard the prayer you murmured under your breath before we got in the car that morning, and I knew.
You don't know this, but I ran into the arms of my bestfriend as soon as we arrived at those school doors, and I started to sob as well.
I broke up with my girlfriend later that month.
And you were sympathetic. And I hoped.
I could tell that you thought this was the end, and I learned that any love I had for women was not welcomed in our house.
You didn't tell me, but you would cough when I mentioned how cute Zendaya was or how I'd want to marry Wonder Woman. I could tell.
I broke up with him over quarantine and I could tell that although my heart was not broken, yours was.
I cut my hair this quarantine. Locks of curls tumbled to the ground, and I smiled, it felt good, I felt free. I locked eyes with you in the mirror of that salon and I saw fear and dissatisfaction. I went to my next trim alone.
I got a shirt that said Make America Gay Again, and I laughed with glee when my rainbow socks completed the outfit. I tried to hide it, but you found it and in thinly veiled comments you told me that politics were best kept out of clothing. There's a reason why the books with gay characters I read have a spot in the back of my closet so you can't find them. I still have the shirt, but I'm too anxious to wear it now.
I bought a bi pride flag without you knowing. I used your Amazon account and put $10 under your pillow, which was more than it was worth anyways. You let me keep it and even helped me iron it, but you also changed your Amazon password and hung an old bible verse on my wall.
My ex-girlfriend got together with another girl from my school. We're all friends, and I shared how lonely I was since my breakup. How I wished I had someone. I didn't think my phrasing was odd, but you looked and me and said, don't worry, all the boys will be over you, you'll get a boyfriend, a boy will make it better. I didn't think that was very odd either, until you emphasized it and looked my dead in the eyes the entire time.
So, I'm not afraid to be myself, I'm just nervous, and you're not supporting, but you're not openly homophobic either. I wish there was a divide so I could be justified in my anger, but there isn't.
You don't know this, but I know that you ask my sisters if this is just a phase. It's been 4 years, so maybe. But still. You don't know this, but the words you throw around hurt me. And when I correct you, you laugh.
You wonder why I want to run away to Asia or Europe, or NYC or LA, but you never wonder what causes my daydreams. I hope this reaches you eventually, because fuck. I'm scared.
romaincrisis
gummygunk
stormborns
titsay
jbbartram-illu
snowghoul
