You May Have Raised Me, But You Don't Know Who I Am

So you found out

Well, how do you feel?


I feel vulnerable







This was a side of me that you weren't ready for

I know this

You say you could tell,

But how in the hell could you let the years go by,

And never say anything to my face?

You question me everyday:

Always saying that "This is the last time" 


"I won't ask again"

Just don't ask me 


This isn't something for you to handle

It's my battle

I'll be the one that is judged

I'll be the one that is scrutinized by my peers

The one who everyone will whisper and converse to themselves about

You ask me:

"Are you a real Christian?"




What does that even mean?

Of course I'm a real Christian!

Just because I feel this way doesn't mean that I will burn down a church

Or worship Satan

Or shout blasphemous words while carving witchcraft on the walls

I still believe

What would make you think so?

You ask me "What about children?"

What about children?

I'm 18

Let me worry about that at 26 or 28

You'll still have your grandchildren

You'll still have a son-in-law

"When will you tell them?"



Who says that I ever have to?

They don't need to know.



"Good...because I would be so embarrassed."



Embarrassed? You would be embarrassed?

Embarrassed that your only child doesn't care if she is with a man

Or a woman

Or a transgender?

Embarrassed that your child wants to be able to love people for who they are,

Not what they are?

Embarrased that your child - your baby girl, that you have raised to adulthood - can 

Look beyond imperfections

Look beyond the faces

Look beyond the forefront and into the soul of another person?

If thats true, then I am embarrassed. 

I am embarrassed to be born into a family that would ridicule me because I look beyond

Every superficial detail 

And just at the person at hand.

But you know what?

You say that you know me, 

Inside and out,

But obviously, 

You know nothing at all.

This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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