Why I’m Here

I suppose maybe I should share a bit about myself, who I am and where I come from; share some of the trials I’ve been through in life and perhaps share a bit about why it is that I decided to start this blog. I’ll be 25 in two months and already I’ve been through a lot of pretty bad stuff, most of it taking place between when my parents divorced when I was only eight years old and now. It’s all been enough to push me to a ledge that I was finally pulled away from for a short time, only to be pushed back by the same hatred and ignorance that I created this blog to combat. Only now, I’m not standing on that ledge, but rather hanging off and holding on only by the tips of my fingers and I’m slowly slipping with nothing to pull me back. I’ll try to stick just to the events in my life relevant to the purpose behind this blog.

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Love Hasn’t Won

I’m so sick of seeing the phrase “love wins” just because the Supreme Court ruled lgbtqa+ couples could marry. We haven’t won anything. Just because the Supreme Court said two men or two women can get married in the U.S. doesn’t mean we won or that love won. Getting small victories that can still be taken away from us doesn’t mean that love has won.

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Every last bigot on this planet is a murderer. It may not have been your fingers that pulled the trigger or your hand that plunged the knife into someone’s chest, or that tied the noose tight before kicking the stool away, it may not have been your hands that held a blade to a suicidal person’s wrists, but you’re the reason they did and you’re just as responsible for their death. It’s your hate and lack of acceptance that encourages people to commit hate crimes, to go out and kill innocent people. It’s your hate and lack of acceptance that drives people to end up killing themselves, because they’re left to feel unloved and unwanted, or because you’ve cause the love that they found to be ripped away from them. Every bigot on this planet has just as much blood on their hands as the man who pulled the trigger at Pulse in Orlando, as every man or woman who has shot, stabbed, beaten, or by any means killed a person for being different than them. You’re just as responsible, because instead of spreading the hate that leads to those things, you could have been fighting the hate. Every bigot has the blood of every individual who has killed themselves because of the hate on their hands, because instead of spreading the hate that drove them that low you could have been letting them know that there was nothing wrong with them and that they were loved. Every single person on this planet who refuses to accept people who look, think, or believe different than them or refuses to accept LGBTQA+ individuals is a murderer and a shit person. And no amount of praying, or belief in the same god you use as a tool of hate, is ever going to be enough to wash away the blood that stains each and every one of your hands or magically make you a decent human being.

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I Want to Make Something Perfectly Clear

I want to make something perfectly clear, and I am going to be blunt and brutally honest and if you’re one of the people who falls into this category… if you are a parent who has or would have a problem with your child, who it is your job to love unconditionally, being LGBTQA+, then it’s probably going to hurt reading it. And you know what, people like you have hurt me beyond belief, caused me more pain than any person should ever have to feel, so I don’t care if my words hurt you because the fact is you need to hear them… or read them in this particular case, and harsh as it may be I think it’s time those who keep doing the hurting start to feel a little sting too and I think you can live with because I promise you my words won’t hurt even a tiny fraction of how much bigots have hurt me.

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A Call to Arms

When I first realized that I’m gay and started coming to terms with who I am, started struggling toward accepting myself, I had a hard time opening up to others. I was 13 when I first started to realize this part of me that made me different from the majority and almost 15 before I finally came to fully accept myself. I didn’t fully come out until I was 21 and between the time it took me to accept myself and to fully come out, very few had the privilege of knowing who I was, of knowing about that part of me. Before I came out to my family and the rest of my friends, I was terrified that if I opened my mouth to object to the homophobic things I was hearing on an almost daily basis, then people would assume that I was gay and I would be forced to deal with the hate and ignorance that I was trying to avoid having directed at me. But I also knew that if we were going to make more progress toward gaining more acceptance, then a hell of a lot more people needed to start speaking out, those within the community and our allies alike.

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Not a Choice

Trigger Warning: This post contains strong language and suggestions of suicide, violence, and self harming.

“It’s a choice.”


You think I want this life?

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I Keep Asking Myself Why God Hates me

I keep asking myself why God hates me. Some people keep telling me he doesn’t, but I can’t come up with any other explanation for his absence every time I need him most. I can’t understand why else he only ever takes away and never gives. I can’t understand why else every prayer I’ve ever sent up to him has gone unheard and unanswered, leaving me to believe that praying is nothing but a waste of time because nobody is listening, because nobody is going to answer. I can’t understand why else he would so easily allow me to turn away from him and not fight at all to keep me in his embrace that I could never feel, because his arms were never around me in the first place even when I begged for them to be. I can’t come up with any other explanation for why he would stick me with something that I knew, from the moment I realized I’m gay, would ultimately lead to my demise. Even after more than ten years repeating to myself over and over that it would be okay, that things would change for the better, things would change enough that I wouldn’t have to suffer at the hands of my orientation, I find myself again with evidence that things will not change… at least not enough and not where it matters most, not for me and not while I’m here to reap the rewards of the fighting I’ve done in search of the change.

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No Hand to Hold For the World to See

“Be with someone whose hand you can hold in front of their parents.”

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To the Parents of LGBTQA+ Individuals

I never understood parents, who are supposed to love their children unconditionally, who make their LGBTQA+ children feel like they have to hide. I don’t understand parents who can’t put their skewed beliefs aside and accept their children as they are. It makes no sense to me how a parent can look at their child, when their child comes out to them, and respond with hate. That is your child in front of you and you make the choice to cast them out and/or disown them simply because they do not fit your twisted view of what is right and normal, or sit before your child saying hateful, bigoted things forcing them further into the closet. There is nothing wrong with being LGBTQA+, but there is something very wrong with parents who force their children to hide or who stop loving and cast their children aside when they do come out.

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