How can someone hate another person because of who they love? How does someone hate another person because of something they can’t control?
On my first day of 3rd grade I remember very clearly what happened. I had just moved to a new school and did not know anyone or where anything was. The school was huge and I was a scared little eight-year-old girl. When I got to my classroom, I was looking for my seat with my name on it and when I finally found it I sat down. I was sitting across from a girl (who later would end up being my best friend), she asked me what my name was and I told her and the she told me hers. We talked for a long time and, being eight years old, probably about some toy. We were playing outside that same day and I remember thinking to myself, “I think I like girls.” I was so scared I couldn’t move and later my parents told me I had a panic attack. I knew exactly why, but when they asked me why I stayed silent. I was not about to tell them what I had thought about earlier.
From a young age I knew how my dad was. He is an alcoholic and homophobic. He always told me it was a sin to love the same gender as yourself and that led to a lot of self-hate. I hated him for making me feel that way towards myself. One day in the middle of 3rd grade I asked him what was so wrong about being gay. He said, and I clearly remember, “The bible tells us that it is a sin, so therefore it is very much wrong.” I hated him even more than I already did. How could he say that? Why is loving someone of the same gender wrong? Why?
I told myself that I was a freak because that is what my dad said every time he would see a stereotypical gay person anyway. This led to me suppressing my true feelings for years.
Finally, on August 27th, 2016 I told two people. The only two people I trusted. My two best friends. One of them is bisexual, so I told her I was bisexual also. I told myself it was okay because I liked girls and boys. That wasn’t so bad, right? For the longest time I told myself I was just bisexual which isn’t so bad.
Then when I moved again things got a little more complicated because I didn’t go to school for a whole week. What did I do for that week you ask? I thought and thought and thought about one thing only. I tried to stop but I couldn’t and I hated myself for thinking that. I was a freak and that’s it. I kept on telling myself I wasn’t gay, I am not gay. But my heart kept telling me I am so every day I tried to look myself in the mirror and say, “I am gay.” I couldn’t, I could not physically do it.
I started doing this on October 17th, 2016. I was in the 7th grade and kids are mean. But on November 14th, 2016 I said it and I was finally able to accept myself so that same day I told my mom. She took it pretty well surprisingly, I mean she told me I didn’t know what I wanted because I was so young. Then I asked her if I had a boyfriend would she say the same thing and she said no. She told me no matter what she would love me and that was all I needed – to be loved and accepted. She told my step-dad and I was not mad, but wasn’t happy with her. He told me that his best friend knew he was gay since he was in 8th grade and that I didn’t have to feel ashamed, and if I had a girlfriend I could tell them. To this day only those 4 people know because it is hard to tell people you love.