Rachel
03-27-2008, 10:45 PM
I need all of your opinions on if I should send this to my father.
Note: I'm a bisexual liberal Pagan, and my father is a conservative Jehovah's Witness. That might put things into perspective for you in regards to this letter.
Dear Dad-
As I write this, I can feel bile rising up in the back of my throat. I'm so nauseous with the thought of what you'll think when you read this letter. So far, any letter that I've written to you to describe my feelings have backfired with a resounding bang, and any time I try to say what I feel to you, I get all tense, start to cry, and freeze up. It's not really conducive to being open with you about everything. I also know we are two different people altogether, held together only by the bond of blood. We don't have the same religion, we don't have a lot of the same political beliefs, we sure don't have the same musical tastes and we both have varying beliefs on one topic in particular: the GLBTQ community. In case you aren't sure what that acronym means, it stands for Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning community. Now, of course, you have your beliefs due to personal reasons and your religion, and I respect your beliefs and don't try to argue with them, as I can't change how you feel. No one can change how anyone feels really. I don't try to shove my religion, whatever it may be, down your throat, nor do I try to make you listen to my music, or dress my way, or see my movies. I'm not saying you do that to me, I'm just stating that I don't try to force opinions on someone when they are not theirs. I'm saying all of this as preface to a resounding truth that I cannot hide from you anymore.
I'm bi.
I want to continue with the explanation without an immediate phone call to me or my mother. She knows. Just about everyone on that side of the family knows. Mom at first thought it was just a phase, and at that time, I wasn't the B in GLBTQ. I was the Q. I never doubted for a second that I was attracted to the male sex, I still am. And bisexuality is not just a "phasing" into being a "full-fledged queer". While it is for some, it isn't for all. I was born this way, and I always had a sort of attraction towards the female gender. At first I thought it was just a closeness with my own gender. A kinship with my fellow sisters. Soon, I noticed that it became more than just a kinship, and to spare you the details, after spending time with Alliance at Brockton High, I realized that this is who I was. I came out to Mom again Senior year, and she accepted it, knowing that when I first came to her in Freshman year, I had taken my four years at Brockton High experiencing new things and figured out who I was. She accepts it, and often jokes around with me about my GLBTQ friends here at college.
This isn't about mom and I's relationship though: this is about you and I's relationship, or the lack-thereof we've had for almost 18 years now. Sure, at one point we were close when I was little and wasn't questioning things in my life, and you and mom were still married. I didn't have to figure out who I was; I was you and mom's daughter, I was whatever you wanted me to be, and I did such with a smile.
However, I always had some internal fear of disappointing you, and this is why as I type this, not only am I nauseous, but now I'm sobbing by the end of this sentence. The first time I was afraid of you was when I quit flute lessons in 4th or 5th grade, because I knew you wanted to do something with guitar and flute. My obsession with making you happy grew over time, as I soon learned that you didn't even want children at all, let alone a daughter. I felt internally like I had to prove to you that having a daughter was worth it, since I was the only kid you were going to have. As time progressed, I realized that no matter what I did after you and mom divorced, I was still a verbal punching bag from time to time. I still have weight problems since that infamous "butter my legs" comment, and ever since then, I've tried my hardest to lose weight, only to feel depressed when I gained it. I took the verbal abuse that you gave only since you were angry either at yourself or still at mom, or somehow or another, but the temper you would have I would swallow down and take like a champ; you weren't mad at me, I was just there as a sounding board, albeit unwillingly.
However, I noticed as I entered high school, I started to disappoint you even more. I started to be friends with "crazy white kids", and my music was "Satanic" and the like. My involvement in the Gay Straight Alliance caused you to ask why I was involved, and when Massachusetts legalized gay marriage, while you were deeming it one more sign of Revelations coming true, I celebrated for my friends who were able to get the same rights that their heterosexual cousins and brothers and sisters could have: the right to be with their partner in the hospital, the right to gain the benefits that are the staple and basis of American history...life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Now, here it is, freshman year at college, and I still feel like a disappointment to you. I don't read the Bible, as it doesn't pertain to my religion. Instead of a religion that teaches what is bad, I practice a religion that teaches what is good. It teaches the basic principles of any religion: you reap what you sow, do not do harm unto others, worship a Supreme deity who created the Heavens and the Earth, etc etc. And yet, it feels that not only for practicing my religion, but for my sexuality, I am the antithesis of everything you believe, and apparently the manifestation of everything that could go wrong in the eyes of your religion. I do not hate the Christianity of Jehovah's Witnesses, everyone needs a religion. I personally feel we are all on different buses heading to the same final destination, but that is my belief only, and I am not forcing it on you. In fact, my religion isn't even important in the context of this letter, it is important in my reasoning why I kept my sexuality a secret from you.
I've had to keep so many secrets from you for fear of you preaching to me, and of your disappointment. You and mom are so different in your beliefs, that it can be easy to talk to you about something that I can't talk to mom about, and vice versa. However, I am going to be 18 in November, and I feel that now is the time to tell you everything I've ever held back.
My bisexuality is only a fraction of who I am. Just because I am bi does not make me any less of a Harris. I am still proud of my heritage, I am proud of my family despite all of our flaws, and I am proud to be your daughter. I just am embarrassed when I hear you talk so badly about the people I love and care about and associate with and relate with and identify myself with, that I become self loathing. I became so self-loathing at one point that I started cutting. Not bad, it never got to a suicidal point, ever. I luckily managed to stop with the help of Jeff, the ex you so loved to hate. He had an addiction far worse than my self-mutilation, and he gave up both addictions cold turkey to make sure I didn't hurt myself anymore. An athiest and a homophobe embraced me for the person I was. An athiest and a homophobe who one day was a stranger, embraced my sexuality and the fact that I am religious with open arms, while you made it very clear from the get go that you, my own father, my own mortal creator, could not do the same.
It kills me to have to tell you everything I felt in regards to you in the past, and I'm so happy that you and I are finally starting to build a relationship that is more than a child support check, a weekly visit, and an uninvited sermon. I'm happy that you and I can usually go a whole day, even a whole weekend without a fight or a disagreement or me calling mom or Jay to pick me up.
But now I feel like right now, I'm back to point 1 as the disappointment. I am not the child you probably want. You probably want a child who is a God fearing Christian, straight, and not involved with anyone in the GLBTQ community, or friends with Pagans, or involving myself with anything that could be deemed a sin. You probably want a daughter who is everything you are and more. You probably still want a son.
I'm sorry that I can't be that person. All I ask is that you can accept me for who I am. I'm not just a bisexual college student. I'm your daughter.
I just hope you can still see me as such when the smoke clears and you realize that this is not a phase, this is not a way to shock you, but that this is me, in all of my openness.
I don't want any response if it is going to involve preaching of any sort. This is who I am, and quoting Bible verses at me won't change it. There are no demons in me. I do nothing but good for people, and I believe that if I do wrong, karma will come for me. I do nothing but good, and in the end, this is who I am. Take me or leave me, but I am always your only child. I hope you can still treat me as such and not as an abomination.
Love always, your little girl.
Note: I'm a bisexual liberal Pagan, and my father is a conservative Jehovah's Witness. That might put things into perspective for you in regards to this letter.
Dear Dad-
As I write this, I can feel bile rising up in the back of my throat. I'm so nauseous with the thought of what you'll think when you read this letter. So far, any letter that I've written to you to describe my feelings have backfired with a resounding bang, and any time I try to say what I feel to you, I get all tense, start to cry, and freeze up. It's not really conducive to being open with you about everything. I also know we are two different people altogether, held together only by the bond of blood. We don't have the same religion, we don't have a lot of the same political beliefs, we sure don't have the same musical tastes and we both have varying beliefs on one topic in particular: the GLBTQ community. In case you aren't sure what that acronym means, it stands for Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning community. Now, of course, you have your beliefs due to personal reasons and your religion, and I respect your beliefs and don't try to argue with them, as I can't change how you feel. No one can change how anyone feels really. I don't try to shove my religion, whatever it may be, down your throat, nor do I try to make you listen to my music, or dress my way, or see my movies. I'm not saying you do that to me, I'm just stating that I don't try to force opinions on someone when they are not theirs. I'm saying all of this as preface to a resounding truth that I cannot hide from you anymore.
I'm bi.
I want to continue with the explanation without an immediate phone call to me or my mother. She knows. Just about everyone on that side of the family knows. Mom at first thought it was just a phase, and at that time, I wasn't the B in GLBTQ. I was the Q. I never doubted for a second that I was attracted to the male sex, I still am. And bisexuality is not just a "phasing" into being a "full-fledged queer". While it is for some, it isn't for all. I was born this way, and I always had a sort of attraction towards the female gender. At first I thought it was just a closeness with my own gender. A kinship with my fellow sisters. Soon, I noticed that it became more than just a kinship, and to spare you the details, after spending time with Alliance at Brockton High, I realized that this is who I was. I came out to Mom again Senior year, and she accepted it, knowing that when I first came to her in Freshman year, I had taken my four years at Brockton High experiencing new things and figured out who I was. She accepts it, and often jokes around with me about my GLBTQ friends here at college.
This isn't about mom and I's relationship though: this is about you and I's relationship, or the lack-thereof we've had for almost 18 years now. Sure, at one point we were close when I was little and wasn't questioning things in my life, and you and mom were still married. I didn't have to figure out who I was; I was you and mom's daughter, I was whatever you wanted me to be, and I did such with a smile.
However, I always had some internal fear of disappointing you, and this is why as I type this, not only am I nauseous, but now I'm sobbing by the end of this sentence. The first time I was afraid of you was when I quit flute lessons in 4th or 5th grade, because I knew you wanted to do something with guitar and flute. My obsession with making you happy grew over time, as I soon learned that you didn't even want children at all, let alone a daughter. I felt internally like I had to prove to you that having a daughter was worth it, since I was the only kid you were going to have. As time progressed, I realized that no matter what I did after you and mom divorced, I was still a verbal punching bag from time to time. I still have weight problems since that infamous "butter my legs" comment, and ever since then, I've tried my hardest to lose weight, only to feel depressed when I gained it. I took the verbal abuse that you gave only since you were angry either at yourself or still at mom, or somehow or another, but the temper you would have I would swallow down and take like a champ; you weren't mad at me, I was just there as a sounding board, albeit unwillingly.
However, I noticed as I entered high school, I started to disappoint you even more. I started to be friends with "crazy white kids", and my music was "Satanic" and the like. My involvement in the Gay Straight Alliance caused you to ask why I was involved, and when Massachusetts legalized gay marriage, while you were deeming it one more sign of Revelations coming true, I celebrated for my friends who were able to get the same rights that their heterosexual cousins and brothers and sisters could have: the right to be with their partner in the hospital, the right to gain the benefits that are the staple and basis of American history...life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Now, here it is, freshman year at college, and I still feel like a disappointment to you. I don't read the Bible, as it doesn't pertain to my religion. Instead of a religion that teaches what is bad, I practice a religion that teaches what is good. It teaches the basic principles of any religion: you reap what you sow, do not do harm unto others, worship a Supreme deity who created the Heavens and the Earth, etc etc. And yet, it feels that not only for practicing my religion, but for my sexuality, I am the antithesis of everything you believe, and apparently the manifestation of everything that could go wrong in the eyes of your religion. I do not hate the Christianity of Jehovah's Witnesses, everyone needs a religion. I personally feel we are all on different buses heading to the same final destination, but that is my belief only, and I am not forcing it on you. In fact, my religion isn't even important in the context of this letter, it is important in my reasoning why I kept my sexuality a secret from you.
I've had to keep so many secrets from you for fear of you preaching to me, and of your disappointment. You and mom are so different in your beliefs, that it can be easy to talk to you about something that I can't talk to mom about, and vice versa. However, I am going to be 18 in November, and I feel that now is the time to tell you everything I've ever held back.
My bisexuality is only a fraction of who I am. Just because I am bi does not make me any less of a Harris. I am still proud of my heritage, I am proud of my family despite all of our flaws, and I am proud to be your daughter. I just am embarrassed when I hear you talk so badly about the people I love and care about and associate with and relate with and identify myself with, that I become self loathing. I became so self-loathing at one point that I started cutting. Not bad, it never got to a suicidal point, ever. I luckily managed to stop with the help of Jeff, the ex you so loved to hate. He had an addiction far worse than my self-mutilation, and he gave up both addictions cold turkey to make sure I didn't hurt myself anymore. An athiest and a homophobe embraced me for the person I was. An athiest and a homophobe who one day was a stranger, embraced my sexuality and the fact that I am religious with open arms, while you made it very clear from the get go that you, my own father, my own mortal creator, could not do the same.
It kills me to have to tell you everything I felt in regards to you in the past, and I'm so happy that you and I are finally starting to build a relationship that is more than a child support check, a weekly visit, and an uninvited sermon. I'm happy that you and I can usually go a whole day, even a whole weekend without a fight or a disagreement or me calling mom or Jay to pick me up.
But now I feel like right now, I'm back to point 1 as the disappointment. I am not the child you probably want. You probably want a child who is a God fearing Christian, straight, and not involved with anyone in the GLBTQ community, or friends with Pagans, or involving myself with anything that could be deemed a sin. You probably want a daughter who is everything you are and more. You probably still want a son.
I'm sorry that I can't be that person. All I ask is that you can accept me for who I am. I'm not just a bisexual college student. I'm your daughter.
I just hope you can still see me as such when the smoke clears and you realize that this is not a phase, this is not a way to shock you, but that this is me, in all of my openness.
I don't want any response if it is going to involve preaching of any sort. This is who I am, and quoting Bible verses at me won't change it. There are no demons in me. I do nothing but good for people, and I believe that if I do wrong, karma will come for me. I do nothing but good, and in the end, this is who I am. Take me or leave me, but I am always your only child. I hope you can still treat me as such and not as an abomination.
Love always, your little girl.