It was shocking for me that someone in my community, where I moved just a little over a year ago, could behave in such a manner. I’ve never met anyone here that was outright hateful or rude to me, so this was like a slap in the face, especially so because my two children were in the truck.
My heart broke and I gave up on friendships the day Beth told me that she didn’t want to talk to me anymore. She couldn’t stand to be called a lesbian, because she wasn’t. (I assured her that neither was I, but I was too scared to tell her that I might be something else.) A few weeks after she stopped talking to me, her parents pulled her out of school and sent her to school elsewhere. This was one of the first I times that I thought about killing myself. I was hurting inside so badly that I didn’t know what to do. I tried to talk to my mother about it, but she told me to ignore the kids at school. I tried to, but from there the emotional distress only got worse.
If you are the minority of a minority’s minority then you might want to hang on for the ride of your life. The American Dream might as well be a fable because everything that you do in life is going to require fighting an uphill battle. Every step you think you take in the right direction is going to send you back three steps. I know this because this is where I am, filed away in a neat little box as a minority of a minority’s minority, and it all began with my birth.