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 We want our daughter to love and accept everyone.

I’m visiting here from Baltimore, and after coming our recently I went to my first Pride- Capital Pride in D.C. on the Nation’s Capital.  Never had I experienced something so special + close to my heart. I’m 14 so I get a lot of “you’re too young to know that yet”s, and  “maybe it’s those teenaged hormones” excuses to invalidate me.  

 No matter who doubts me, I’ll still be gay. I’ll still like girls + women. Hey, I’ll still love girls.

Because LOVE wins

No one loved. No one loved me.

I question if anyone does now.

 As a straight half white woman

I know I cannot feel your pain

 But as a lost soul

And a hurting human

 I Love you

I Understand you

She/her pronouns.

Bisexual.

New Yorker.

Rape survivor.

Someone who LOVES purple.

Do any of these stand out?

The first time I hear it, I ran right to my mom and at 9 years old, I asked “What is Bisexual?”

Bisexuals are sluts, she said, laughing.

“What are sluts?” I asked.

They are people who are desperate for love. So desperate they’d **** a tree if they could.

( So when you hear

Get down on your knees

You fall to the ground so fast

Your knees bruise like fields of violets

    Stretching your mouth until it burns

Without saying anything with it

Because no is not a word in your vocabulary

Because

Bisexuals are sluts)

Learn to relax your tender mouth

Putu down pillows beneath your bruised knees

Cup her breast like the precious thing it is

Giggle when he rubs his stubble on your cheek

Feel their smile against your lips as you kiss

Because

Sex is both so much more & so much less

Than what we were taught it was.

Until I can say

I am Bisexual

Without meaning

I am a ******* slut

 A few years ago (before losing my virginity) I failed the Red Cross requirements because I had gotten a piercing in the last month.

 After commiserating & complaining with my friend about being turned away for hours, we finally realized we weren’t on the same page.  She assumed I was rejected for being gay.

Now, I don’t feel guilty, Instead I offer comfort, support & refuge to those who have not had it as easy.

I thought that I was maybe perverted or dark.

After high school I made friends who were on the spectrum (even closeted ones) and through the purity of their self-expression (although not always easy for them) I was inspired to be my truest self as well.

Growth has come only with the freedom of understanding these ideals and roles are imposed upon us but do not define who we are.

I know now that I was confused because I was being taught by society not to accept love (and self love!) in all forms, which in my heart was what I knew I believed.

Would I have come out if circumstances were different?

When I was 13 years old, I came out of the closet after years and years of denial. If I had been 13 this year, in 2017, I would not have come out. If I knew Donald Trump was going to be president soon, I would not have come out. If I had been 13 in 1960, I would not have come out. If I had been 13 in any other time period, I would not have come out.

This comes as a surprise to people, because by many, I have been deemed “the gayest,” “super gay,” even “too gay.” It’s funny how when I came out, rumor spread that I was faking it for attention, and then after a few months, they realized it was legitimate, and all of a sudden I became “too much.” It’s funny how we’ll do anything to silence those who wear the rainbow as a symbol of pride. It’s funny how if I told my parents about my sexuality, I would get kicked out of the house, and yet people act like I am following a trend. Last time I checked, Instagram brows and chokers do not put me in harm’s way.

There was something about the timing right when I came out. I had been introduced to a new world of sexualities and genders at such a diverse high school, I had been questioning for months and maybe even years. Something about the exact moment when I came out made me feel safe for just a moment.

I thought I would feel a huge weight off my shoulders but instead I immediately tried to swallow my words. I wanted to retract them. I felt ashamed. I felt scared. I didn’t want to be labeled as “bisexual;” I wanted to be called by my own name. But it was too late, the words had already left my mouth and everything was fine until 2 months later, I heard for the first time “I’m pretty sure she just came out for attention.” I immediately tried to rip the label off myself. I dangled it in front of me, feeling as though I didn’t deserve it. Feeling as though I was appropriating a community that I was now being told I don’t belong to. I cried at the thought of my girlfriend who I loved with all my heart. I wondered if I even deserved to be in such a relationship.

To this day, my sexuality is a fragile being that I’ve never quite been able to lose my insecurity over. Despite checking all the boxes to fit the label, I still consistently question myself because I’m so afraid of other people questioning me. It’s sad that I’m in love with a girl and I still sit around wondering if I’m lying. I was always told that I was lying. That I don’t understand. That I’m wrong. I’ve been told that I should not be allowed to wave a flag at pride and it’s sad that that notion has been embedded in me for almost 2 years

Before I knew

That love came in boxes

That it was labelled wrong

Or right

or marked fragile

through this turbulent flight

That we defined ourselves in documents

And to say I love you out loud

And proud

I would have to fight

Before I knew of such hate

That the far right had in mind

A twisted fate

That courts could rule fool’s rights

To picket the deaths of heroes

Before we could stand before

closest kin

And celebrate the love

Between two women

Well I didn’t know that

Then.

Before all that

I was just a kid

Reading Geisel chapters

And climbing up ladders

she placed outside her bedroom window

So we could sit on rooftops

And kiss under stars

and wonder why we felt

no butterflies for the boys

but held their hands in the hallways

and let them think they were ours

and then meet among secret trees

so that we could feel our hearts beat

in accelerated paces

this must be what it is supposed to feel like

if not surrounded by hesitation.

I didn’t know there was a word for this

I only knew it must be wrong

Since I didn’t see

Anyone like me

Until I heard a brave woman sing

A folk rock song

And I felt free

After her  father cast me out

And forbid my return

And I felt like a puddle of disorder

A lake of contaminated water

A river of disease

Love was a box

Where I didn’t belong

And I felt like a lock

Without a key

A poet without a dream

A tight rope walker

Without a beam

Before I knew

All this

Before my delicate virtue

Shattered like glass

Before I traded

My transparent cover

From which you could see my soul

Glow like coral underwater

For something more iron clad

I just wanted to share my heart

And walk the tree lined streets

And make love into poetry

And cry on shoulders

So I could be held and told

You aren’t alone

You aren’t over

I wanted to stretch into a city of millions

And feel like I was dancing in a sea

Of sparkling humility

An orchestra of childhood dreams

Believing in magic and moonbeams

Fairy tales and potions

With no right angles

No confined spaces

I was wide and wondrous

You see

I was beyond measure

No length, width, or height

Could wrap around this bird in flight

No fire breathing dragons

Could ever battle these pure emotions

You see

I was told I was a marsh

But it turns out