Whether we are intentionally being taught or not, we seem to always be learning. If you’ve ever spent enough time around someone that you start unintentionally taking on their mannerisms from time to time, you see that we’re not always trying to pick up the behaviors that we do. Sometimes exposure is all it takes. Think of it like a contact high. So when you grow up in a world of fear and anger, even when you’re not trying to, you might find that you pick some of that up and carry it with you. Only through awareness and acceptance do we learn to set it down.
Hate
I don’t remember how old I was, and I don’t remember where we were driving to.
All I remember is the way my heart sank when you said
if any of your kids were gay, you would disown them.
I don’t understand.
I don’t understand because I have a child.
I have a child, and I don’t know how you put conditions on loving another soul,
especially one you brought into this world.
So I don’t remember how old I was when my heart was breaking because I realized that
If I wanted to be loved, by you, I was limited in who I could be.
I don’t remember how old I was, or even at this time where we were,
when you told me to never bring a black man home.
I may have never brought one to your home, but I’ve sure as fuck brought them to mine,
thank you very much!
I don’t remember how old I was, or where I was, or even which time I’m recalling,
when you called a woman a slimy chink because she cut you off in traffic.
So, when I took an Asian boy to my work party, I told everyone but you.
I don’t remember how old I was because I’ve blocked out as much of the hate as I could,
when you casually referred to a middle eastern man as a towelhead,
for no reason that was good enough to justify doing it.
There is no reason good enough to justify doing it.
I do remember, I was 22 when I felt guilty going to the bathroom
with a girl at a house party because I googled her for two weeks afterward,
trying to understand why I felt what I felt because this crush wasn’t allowed.
I do remember, I was 21, when a man from Jordan treated me like gold.
I was confused, both because I never knew I had value, much less the value of gold.
But also because he didn’t seem like the enemy that you made men like him out to be.
I do remember, I was 22 when a Chinese boy brought me a bottle of wine.
We talked all night about how he hated being tall and working at his family’s restaurant
because now he fits your stereotype but not enough to really fit it
because everyone asks him if he shoots hoops like Yao Ming.
I do remember, I was 23 when I made cinnamon rolls for a black man
because I was trying to prove myself not racist after I was taught
to be tenser when alone in a room with a man that is not white.
I do remember, I was 26 when I was so excited to tell you that I’m gay
because I finally felt so much love, for myself,
that it didn’t matter if you wouldn’t give me yours.
I was 26 when I was finally ready to let my love be louder than the fear of your hate.
But I’m still trying to figure out how to let my love be stronger
than the fear of your pain.
The thing about life is that no matter what we were taught, it’s our responsibility to learn how to be loving.
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 