All of my life, I took a bit of pride in the fact that I had a pretty diverse group of friends. My best friend in high school was gay, although he did not come out [even to me!] until many years later. When I was four years old, my best friend in my apartment complex was the little black boy that lived upstairs. His name was David, and he loved dinosaurs. His parents were so sweet and kind.
So, suffice to say, I didn’t know that most of my family and friends were bigots** until I was much older. My grandpa had an employee, a very sweet black man, that was always at the dinner table with us, and always had candy in his pocket for me. I saw him as my grandpa’s equal, and thought my grandpa respected and revered him. I didn’t know any different until years later, when telling a story about him to someone else, my grandfather referred to him using the N-word.
I was heart broken. If you use words like that, that means… what? I tell you what it means, it means you are racist. I was still a kid and taught to respect my elders, so did I confront him about it? NO, I most certainly did not. I did not bring it up to anyone, ever, until now. Over the years, this was not the only time I heard friends or family use the N word, or worse. Jokes and racial slurs were common at parties, on job sites, and on car rides. You could have black friends, but you just can’t date/marry them.
Then it happened. I got pregnant. It was a miracle, after years of being told I may never conceive. So you better bet your sweet bubkiss that I was going to do this right! I not only wanted to raise good children, I wanted to raise good adults. Smart, open minded, free-thinking, confident, independent adults. I wanted the bigotry* to stop with me. I made a very, very conscious decision that my children would not be raised that way.
Like many of my generation who were raised in this manner, I did not know what it meant to say things like ‘I don’t see color’ but it was a start in the right direction, I thought. (My kids educated me otherwise, don’t worry…) I raised my kids to love everyone, to not judge people by the color of their skin, where they were from, where they lived, etc. But instead for their personalities, their actions, what was inside for their hearts, for WHO they are.
This was not only about race, however. So much more… sexuality, gender identification, and on and on. I also wanted my kids to know that they should be accepting of everyone, to be true to themselves, that it was okay to be gay, bisexual, trans or whatever they felt… back then I did not know all the rest of the letters. (Again, thanks kiddos for enlightening me)! They will be loved the same by me, and my house was always their safe place.
There were times when I would have to set my foot down with my family. For example--my wedding. My husband‘s best friend, his best man, was a black man. So, I had to tell my family members, "Do not say the N-word, and do not tell racist jokes." I also, on a regular basis, had to tell them to not say those things in front of my children.
So time passes, as it tends to do… and my kids get older. They have friends of every shade and color, they have gay, lesbian, and transgender friends. I’m digging it. Life is good, and they are good people.
I guess maybe it was middle school when I got the first inkling that my daughter might be gay, but I asked her, and she said no, that was that. I told her that I wanted her to know that she can feel safe to tell me, and she will be loved just the same, but she still said no. I never gave it another thought, even when my now ex-husband suggested it, too, a few years later. It wasn’t until she was moving away to college that she came out to me. I went through my own set of feelings about it. I felt I could’ve been more of an ally, more of a cheerleader for her, and that’s exactly why she didn’t tell me.
We live in the Bible Belt, and when you’re just trying to figure out who you are but you are constantly being told by family members, church members, teachers, friends, and even some family, that being gay is wrong, and if you CHOOSE to be gay (BTW--it's not a choice), you’re going to go to Hell... no matter how much your mom tells you that it’s OK, there’s no way you can come out. You would be scared and unsafe. I mean, you all watch the news. You heard about the bars were gay people are getting murdered. She even participated in the play ‘The Laramie Project’ about a gay boy being beaten and murdered, just for being gay. You’re not gonna come out, no matter what your naive mama says.
But I didn’t mean for this post to be about her or her coming out story, I’d need her permission for that… the point I wanted to get to is this.
All of my life, I’ve loved people and were friends with people and felt proud of myself for being able to say “We don’t have to believe the same things to be friends.” But when your daughter cannot be herself because she is afraid, you stop real damn quick being friends with anyone who contributes to that way of thinking.
I’ve had people in my neighborhood who put Trump signs up in their yard and now I know longer talk to them. I know I’m making an assumption that because they vote for Trump that they’re homophobic and racist but even if they are not, they are supporting a bigot** and that matters. If you even remotely support someone that would jeopardize my daughter's life, well being, state of mind, or inner peace, I don’t want to be your friend.
I started a new job a few years back and was starting to make new friends. When a ‘New Friend’, just in a casual conversation, dropped the F word. (And not the one that means a colorful way to say ‘Make-a-baby’). You know the one. And I’m very sure that if he looked at my face, he would’ve known that we can not be friends. My heart sank a little because I liked this guy and I wanted to be his friend.
So let me ask you, but how could I be his friend when I knew that he would not give my daughter the respect of basic human rights, that he thought less of her because of who she loves?
I’m ashamed that I haven’t felt this passionately about human rights all my life. But I realize now, that it is not enough to just not be racists, I must be anti-racist. Its not enough to not be homophobic, I must be anti-homophobic. I have been an ally all my life but I haven’t always been vocal about it.
I want every human being to know that they matter to me. Your life matters to me.
Just to be clear, l can accept that my friends and family have different opinions than I do.
But I cannot accept that they hold beliefs that deny basic human rights to anyone for any reason.
Anyways, Black Lives Matter.
Places to donate and support BLM Organizations + Protestors:
**Bigot - a person who is intolerant toward those holding different opinions.
Again, very beautifully written! Girl, I completely sympathize and empathize with you on this on so many levels. I had no clue however that you had ever met Shelby, I don't think I ever did. I love when I get onto people for using the N word and they come back with "but some of the music you listen to says it". Yes, the music may say it but that word never leaves my mouth. It is always skipped over. I cannot help it that mainstream music has words that I do not say in it, I mean even some P!ATD songs even have words in them I do not even say. What am I do to, never listen to…