Hello everyone! Zee here with another stirring chapter of…our life. (:
So it has recently come to my attention that the house I grew up in was coined “The Gay House” by some of the people that lived in our neighborhood. People that I went to school with or lived next to for years
And from my understanding this was meant to be a derogatory put down rather than a celebratory congratulations.
Let me just start off by saying that regardless of what was said, and regardless of the negative energy that was put into it, my house was most definitely, “The Gay House”.
My mother was, is, and forever will be, the epitome of acceptance. She knew well before I did that I was going to be fabulous, and her love for me never faltered. She knew that our home needed to be a place where all of us could feel safe, so it was. She even had more than enough love for her children, so our friends came in and became part of the family.
Our home was the house on the block that everyone ended up at. We had a pool, we had a backyard, and momma knew how to cook for big gatherings…(we’re still trying to get her to cook smaller batches btw). Our house was even the place that people would run to when they could not run to their own, and seeing that…feeling that…it put the idea of “what home could be” firmly in both my mind and heart.
I think this is why I enjoy being home so much these days; that feeling of safety and enjoying time with your loved ones. And I know 2020 has all of us feeling some type of way about being cooped up, but y’all I am living for this extra time in the casa.
But let me get back on point.
I find myself surprised, that I am not actually that surprised, that someone would go ahead and try to mislabel everything that was created in that house. It does not surprise me that ignorant folks would look into our world and think, “Damn, that single woman is raising a bunch of gays.”
And you know what? Of my momma’s four kids, three of us ended up on the LGBTQIA spectrum, but I guess thats what you get when you have a loving environment growing up that allows you to safely express your identity. You can call it what you want, but I see it as four adults that were able to come into this world as their truest selves without any judgement and with complete support.
But in all honesty, sitting here as I write this post I find myself welling up with the past and emotions of what life was like growing up, and the energy that permeates all of the beautiful memories.
On so many occasions I would find myself running back home to get away from the mean boys and their name-calling only to be met by my mom.
I would cry and say that the boys were making fun of me for my shorts…
I would cry and say that the kids were making fun of me because of the way my voice sounded…
I would even run and hop the fence in the field by our house, so I could skip the day and not be antagonized by anyone.
And every single time mom would say, “honey, so what if you are what those kids are calling you? So what if you’re gay? I will always love you, no matter who you are and what you choose to do.”
Don’t let them make you feel weak, because baby you were born this way (mom and GaGa mashup).
And she was right, regardless of who I have become and what I have done, or not done, she has been there through it all. My mom is my rock. She is literally the person I turn to for everything, and I just find myself always in a place of gratitude when I think of her.
She makes me feel strong.
She makes me feel supported and loved.
She is quite frankly the best possible person to be my mother, and I do firmly believe that we choose who we want as family before we make our way down from wherever it is. I also believe that we both knew this life was going to be something that would require both of us to love and support one another.
We dug one another’s energy and made a pact to be a family.
So let me just say thank you, thank you for your love and acceptance. Thank you for loving my partner in a way that they have never been loved before, and thank you mom for always believing in me and for being my biggest cheerleader.
Now that everyone knows I’m a momma’s boy, let me put a short and sweet end to this post. Sure it may never find it’s way to those who truly need to read it, but that’s okay. I’m putting out the positivity and Karma can handle the rest. <3
Let this open letter find whoever needs to see it. Let it be a reminder that it does not matter who occupies a home, and it does not matter if you agree with how they operate, but what does matter is how you present yourself.
Walk forward with kindness as you make your way into the unknown, and you may be surprised at what similarities you find amongst your differences.
To all those who simply chose not to understand.
Dear whoever you are,
How dare you age yourself and use “Gay” as a derogatory adjective. It is the 21st century and we are now in the year 2020…educate yourself.
Who are you to sling your arrows of judgment at our fortress of acceptance? What we have created here is greater than anything you can throw.
Your aim is clouded and your words misguided. You are merely throwing things in the air hoping that they find their mark.
But to no avail; for here in this place all are loved, all are celebrated. It is unconditional love that builds us and binds us.
You seek to encapsulate all that you do not understand and place it under a singular, limited scope. Just so that you can say with minimal effort that you do understand, and therefore, it is not worth your time.
You label something that is greater than you; something that fostered the dreams of so many wayward souls.
They made something beautiful in our home, and you simply coined us as “other”.
How dare you.
Let go of your callous ways and step forward into a better example of yourself. If not for you, for those around you.
Seek to understand; even if it is to definitively say that you don’t, and I will try to do the same.
Be open to the conversation, and I will be open as well.
From my Gay House to yours,
And so, we sashay away with fan hands and a duck walk…