My mother taught me that love came with a price tag
Through my parents I saw that a family was about financial stability
Not love, or unity, or trust, or forgiveness, or what--even?
My mother taught me that love came in size 0
“Eat less, exercise more” “darling, I love you but please change”
But Mom I—“It’s okay to have an opinion but you’re wrong and I’m right”
My mother taught me to apologize for everything
I’m sorry I’m not perfect, I’m sorry I’m not skinny, I’m sorry I’m not pretty
“That’s alright, darling, just do it again; except this time do it right”
My mother—my poor pitiful mother
Needs to be taught how to love
When my father finally had the courage to pack up and leave
To give up in a relationship that shouldn’t have lasted in the first place
I gained the courage to stop apologizing
On the night of my 20th birthday my mother gave me a phone call
And in the static line that connected us thousands of miles apart
I told her, ‘Mom, I’m gay’—unapologetically
I was—I am—done apologizing for being myself
I listened to her cry hysterically on the phone, barely able to hear her say
“What happened to my life?” as the phone fell from her hand and I heard the busy tone
I don’t know, Momma, but that sounds like a personal problem
Mother I am size girl not size 0
You don’t have to tell me that boy is not good enough for your standards
Because he doesn’t even exist in mine
Mother I’m gay and I cannot—will not change my mind like you tell me to
Mother I will modify my body as I wish no matter how it makes you feel uncomfortable
I will no longer apologize that my life choices makes you feel as if you’re a personal failure
Mother I love you but you need to change
For the sake of my sister and the sake of our family
Accept that love isn’t found in credit cards and shoe boxes
The amount of carats in that diamond is not equal to what real love feels like
Mother I am saddened by your state
I wish I could write you enough words to make you understand that being different is not wrong
That loving another woman is as natural, as unstoppable as the sun rising every morning
That love doesn’t come with a price and instead, acceptance
But mother I cannot make you learn how to listen
I never imagined I’d want you to be at my wedding
Where there will be two brides walking down the aisle
I often imagine you rendered catatonic with the sight of me bringing my girlfriend over for dinner
But mother seasons change, I hope people do too
In the end I want you there, fussing over my hair and my dress—acting as the bridezilla
And remembering that it is my wedding, not yours
Mother I want you to look at your baby girl and smile and be happy that she learned better