I was at my grandma and grandpa’s on Wednesday to learn some Romanian to surprise biomom when she comes back from her trip to Romania later this month. The conversation turned to when I was going to come back to study some more, and when I said I wasn’t sure (because they’re pretty busy too), grandpa asks “Oh, is it because you’ll be busy with your boyfriend?”
Yes, yes, I know, he was joking. It seems like such an innocuous question, doesn’t it?
And yet, it’s not one that I can ever answer truthfully, at least, I can’t tell them the whole truth, and you know what? Not being able to tell the whole truth sucks ass, but it’s a choice between telling the whole truth and risking having people you’ve just found out existed hate you, and lying in order to keep your relationship intact.
No one should ever have to do this. No one should ever have to lie about who they are because they have relatives who just don’t fucking get it.
You know what else hurts? When your biomom and stepdad make homophobic and transphobic comments in your presence, and you just want to say: “Look, I’m a lesbian, knock it off.” But you don’t, because, I don’t know, you have a good thing going with them and you don’t want to ruin it. Maybe I’m just being a coward and I should tell them, but then I know what my a-mom will say “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?!” She doesn’t understand, she thinks it’s a phase, this woman-loving thing, and I’ll drop it once I “try boys”. (No offense, guys, but I don’t want to try you, I hope you don’t take it personally.)
It’s not enough to have one set of homophobic parents, I have to have one set of homophobes and another set of utterly confused people. Where oh where is my lady-knight in shining armor to ride in on a white charger and rescue me?
*sighs* Well, if no lady-knight is going to come rescue me, I guess I gotta’ rescue myself, it’s harder than it looks.