Melting

Three - Identity Struggles

Knowing who I am is sometimes more scary than being ignorant. So many things about me are things that people hate. I am a woman. I am opinionated. I am not Christian. I am uninterested in sex and not hyped over romance. I am a free spirit. I am many things, and I hope 'normal' is never one of them, because what use is normalcy in a world such as this?

I write stories where characters are accepted for who they are, however subtly. I want my characters to know that I love them, to know that I know where they're coming from, to know that even if other people hate them I am there to encourage them. I do it because it's what I wish people would do for me. 

I grew up in a community where I was appreciated for everything I was, and I am so grateful for it. Now, I travel, I see the world, and I see that what I grew up with is abnormal in comparison. 

In my world, it isn't unusual for two families to come together in support for one another to the point where they simply merge. I have two mothers and two fathers, not because of divorce, separation, or polyamory, but because we needed each other and continue to need each other. They are as much my "real" family as by blood. 

In my world, it isn't unusual for a kid to have same-sex parents. I wasn't even in my first year of schooling when I met a girl with two dads; it didn't register as different until I reached middle school. I was in the seventh grade by the time I realized my world wasn't the world everyone else grew up in, that terms like "gay" or "queer" existed. It registered as normal, so that was how I treated it. I didn't think we needed labels for something so present in our lives. I was apparently wrong.

In my world, it isn't unusual to ask people their pronouns when I meet them. I was staying with friends when I met someone new, a blond girl who seemed friendly enough. I asked for her pronouns so I knew what to call her. Never before had someone been so roughed up by such a question as her; "I'm straight!" she cried before running off. She reported us later to the owner of the cabin we were staying in, who spoke to us about "forcing identities on others." I changed, after that. I didn't stop asking, but I did it for the added factor of spite. 

My identity was based on what I grew up with. As I grew older, those things became more and more rare. The world I was raised in was so different than the one I live in now. I wish more people had been raised in my world, that I could have taken the time to teach them of a more peaceful perspective. Instead, they tried pulling me into theirs, and I am so sorry to all the people I hurt as a result.