DAISIES GROW IN BROOKLYN

I have always been gay. I cannot remember my life not being attracted to the same sex. I can also remember a time when I didn’t know what it was that I was. I didn’t know that there was a term for it, that there was a title for me loving the same sex. To me it was as natural as a bowel movement as washing your hair as picking up a spoon to the mouth.

Which is why you will always hear me say I was born gay. I never had any amorous feelings toward girl. I never looked at them as attractive. Can I say a girl is pretty yes but it was admiration never sexual. I was drawn to all things pretty and feminine. I didn’t have any interest in sports, I didn’t enjoy rough handling. I loved Barbie’s and heels and make-up. As an adolescent I never questioned it. I had my fair share of crushes o the jocks on the block. How I was to be was never a topic. Everyone accepted it as far as the adults. It only became a ting to talk about when adults wanted to bring it up to my mother. It was then that mom would get angry and try to straighten it out. Obvious that they made it a thing to be ashamed and embarrassed of to a point that mom would think the way to take it out of me would be to beat it out of me as if it wasn’t a part of me. That is when this thing called “gay” for me became a secret. It became something that made me feel as if I was wrong, that I wasn’t worth anything. It was at those moments in my life that I constantly questioned myself, my validity, my sense of identity.

Those weren’t the days where gay characters were on T.V in a positive light. It wasn’t like I had idols that were like me that I can look up to and mimic in a good way.

No I was surrounded by men that hid their desires like Fort Knox. I was surrounded by abusers verbally and physically. It was then that I had to be on guard at all times because so many men married or not felt it would be a great idea to take me at will. I was constantly fighting. That is where I learned to raise a fist and question everyone next to me. It was when I made up my own world where I was always safe and happy.

It was also where mommy changed. I was under her constant watchful eye in a negative way. She never let up. If I acted in any way that wasn’t masculine I was beat. If I played things that weren’t considered boyish I was beat. If I spoke a certain way where my hands moved too much I was reprimanded. This is where my self-expression was dwindled into almost nothing.

It wasn’t until I was in High School that I stood for myself with my family and was who I was and didn’t really care who liked me or not.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s