Dear Mom,
Today’s a tough day for me. If you were here, you wouldn’t believe what just happened. Never in my life did I think I’d have someone like Barack Obama leading this country. I know we have it good here, mama, better than people in a lot of other places, but it’s been tough lately. People losing their houses, being kicked out of jobs, but I’m hopeful. Optimistic, even; things are definitely changing around these parts.
But something else happened, and I know you’ve been gone for thirteen years; probably the most difficult thirteen years of my life, practically a third of it has been lived without you here, and that’s been really hard. Because I never told you I was gay, and I regret that I never opened my mouth about it more than anything. Part of me knows you probably knew. Mothers always do, don’t they? And I struggle with what might’ve happened between us had we actually talked about it. You were old school, Southern, black, and a product of your time. Maybe you would’ve been weary. But you also weathered the Civil Rights Era, saw hoses turned on people and undoubtedly endured hatred and judgment I hardly know the likes of—I think you would’ve shown compassion.
A lot has happened, so today is bittersweet. A black man in the highest office of the land can give one immeasurable confidence. By the same token, having something like the right to marry the one you love ripped away from you takes the sensation in the other direction. I can’t explain it. Never tried to. I think about you and dad and how you never dated anyone other than each other, how your parents and dad’s parents knew each other before you were even born. The romantic in me swoons at that, mama. You really planted the seed with that.
I really want to settle down, give you some grandbabies, and live a simple life. I was always creative, always artsy, always sensitive. I like ice cream, and entertaining my friends, and living a good life. When these people here, these people who think they know me and want to define me, and want to protect marriage? Protect it from what, mama? I wish you were to here to answer. I wish you here so we could talk. I used to be so afraid, so fearful of what you’d think of me if you’d ever found out my secret. It used to paralyze me. But now I want you to know that I want a good man in my life. One you’d love, one that’d make you proud of me, and one to share a life with. That’s all I want. I wish I could give you one last hug, one last goodbye, and to tell you that I finally have made my peace with who I am. And these people here, that judge me and hate me? I’m not backing down. You taught me that. You gave me skills and taught me that the truth always comes to light, and I believe it.
Wherever you are, I miss you and love you and today is an incredible day. It’s also a bit somber, but you know I’m just like you. It’s going to take more than this ruling being overturned to stop me. The battle maybe have been fought, and even defeated, but I’m not stopping. I don’t know how to stop. I got that from you: twenty-three chromosomes and the spirit of unbridled horses.
Love,
Derrick
Leave your Comment