Growing up, acceptance was a big thing in our family. Not the acceptance of others, but whether you accepted the things your daughters did or said. The first thing I remember learning when I was growing up was that Mom and Dad had to be proud of me, that I couldn’t screw up anything because they wouldn’t accept it. I mean if I didn’t have all A’s, I would have to fear Mom’s wrath. I remember being terrified of her. However, I don’t remember hearing anything about race, religion, or sexuality. These topics weren’t things that my family openly discussed, and I had no idea that people of different skin tones were different in any way. I had no idea that there was any other religion other than Christianity, and I had never heard the word “gay” until my 6th grade year. Maybe it’s because they weren’t deemed child appropriate at the time, but it was just the way life was for me.
So when I moved to a small school in Texas (predominantly white and Christian), I panicked. What were these things that these people were talking about? What does the word gay mean? Don’t get me wrong, I knew that some boys like boys and some girls like girls, but I had no idea that there was a term for it. To me, everyone around me was just another person, living their life. And I’m quite thankful for this upbringing, even though you look back on it and wish that you had taught me what you believed to be “right” and “wrong.” Once I had started school at this place, and I was at the ripe age of 12 years old, my family started having these conversations.
You (my parents) didn’t seem to hate on the idea of gay rights, as long as they left you alone and neither of your daughters turned out to be gay. When my older sister started dating, I remember hearing a comment from my father about how he didn’t want neither her nor I to date any man who wasn’t white. And although neither of you have gone to church in years, the one day I refused to go to church with you two, it turned into a clash of hateful words and slurs that I refuse to think about. It’s so difficult for me to understand why you have these stances. Dad, why do you hate the idea of interracial relationships? You married a first generation immigrant from Mexico, and adopted her daughter who was an illegal. Why can’t the both of you stand the thought of your daughters possibly being gay? You never spoke down on other people being gay. Why is my refusal to join you in religious events such a bad thing to you? We haven’t gone to church or prayed together in eleven years.
All of this pains me so much, because I am so glad that you unknowingly raised me to be this way. I am in a loving relationship of over four years with a boy who is predominantly Mexican, with some black roots in him. I am openly bisexual to my closest friends, and I have considered dating several women. I am agnostic, I don’t believe in your God, but I’m not going to deny that he (or some other God(s)) could exist. So many people call me a liberal, and you know that I’m a liberal, but do you know how deep it stems into me? After all these years, I still haven’t told you Dad that my boyfriend has black roots. I still haven’t told y’all that I’ve looked at girls and yearned for relationships with them. And I will never tell you that I identify myself as agnostic, because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid that after all of this, after all the hard work and effort you put into raising me and my sister that you won’t accept me for who I am. For being and doing all the things that you hate. After all, you did raise me to need your acceptance.
