just write it all out

31

#LoveWins - 01/31/16

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

A while ago, the Supreme Court in the United States of America ruled in favor of marriage equality throughout the country. My Instagram feed was filled with rainbow graphics and well wishes to all homosexual couples. I followed the "right" people, the people that shared my opinions. I hadn't checked my Facebook yet. I didn't know enough about the people I was friends with to decide whether or not it was "safe."

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

I emerged from my room to help with preparations for lunch - store bought instant chow mein. Soon enough my mother was doling out the noodles, and I noticed my father was working outside, in the rain. I remembered earlier how I had held my baby sister up to tap him on the shoulder playfully and he had hardly given her a glance. I looked to my mother and asked, "Is he okay?" She replied, "Not really. I'll tell you about it later." And I dropped the subject.

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

My mother brought it up earlier than expected. We were five minutes into lunch and she said, "so, gay marriage is okay in America now." It took a while to explain the concept to my 10 year old brother, but we got it over with. "Your father is against it, you guys know that. And he knows that you guys - and me, too - think it's okay," my mother explained. "He was brought up to think being gay is wrong. And now that he's being told it's okay, it's legal, and we all think it's okay, too, he feels like he is the only wrong person here. Not only that, but a lot of his family, your uncles and cousins, think it's okay, too. He feels like he's evil, and he thinks you guys hate him."

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

I don't hate my father. I just disagree with him.

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

A few days prior, we had had Domino's pan pizza, which was a special treat, because we hardly ever buy pizza that isn't frozen. It was delicious, and we were in a good mood. I made a joke about how someone could identify as pan-pizza-sexual, and the atmosphere changed. My sister and brother chuckled, my mother and youngest brother looked confused. My sister explained the concept of pansexuality - at least, the kind where someone is attracted to people based on personality rather than genitals. My father immediately sat back in his chair and sighed. Said some things along the lines of - pansexuality doesn't exist. not how humans are wired. name some people who identify as pansexual–oh, two friends? I like those kids, I don't hate them, don't call me a bigot or anything to your friends or on your Instagram. just confused teenagers. I'll shut up now. you guys must hate me. - and all anyone could do was look down at their plates and keep chewing, swallowing, taking another bite, politely offering the last slice, all so automatic, formal, because the dinner talk had dipped so suddenly that all we could do was leave it in the past to rot like a dead dog and let the odor haunt us into the future.

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

"He's not sure he wants to go to Michigan this weekend now," my mother said, looking down at her plate as she searched for more carrots to feed the crying toddler next to her. We were planning a family trip to my cousin's house for her send-off party before she went to Africa. "He knows your cousin is a big advocate for gay rights and that a lot of his family supports it, too. He knows they're going to argue with him, and give him all the arguments about how what a lot of the Bible says isn't true anymore, and he's heard it all before, but he can't change his mind. It's how he was taught, and brought up, and it's what he believes."

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

It was quiet for a while, but eventually we started making funny faces at the baby and were laughing at her attempts to imitate us. The number of people sitting at the table slowly dwindled, and I headed to my room to grab a notebook, when I looked out the window. My father was sitting in the area outside my window, a kind of garden area that we didn't use. I only caught glimpses of his head and shoulders as he worked a shovel into the ground and out again. He was completely drenched, his hair plastered onto his forehead and hanging into his eyes, his T-shirt dark, clinging to his shoulders. Maybe I expected him to look angry at the world, or disappointed, or seething. The second-best word to describe how he looked is defeated.

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

But from that few seconds, all I could see in him was loneliness. That man was a lonely man, convinced his children hated him, convinced he would ruin a family gathering, convinced that even though he was right, he was wrong, convinced that everything was his fault, and that he was the only one doing anything wrong.

It's difficult to accept that other people think differently than yourself.

Ah, yes.

I know these are late, but if I had posted this on the right day, it would have been Sunday. On Sunday, my church's sermon was about homosexuality (and all variations of it), and it was the way I'd originally interpreted the Bible, but still... I was slightly disappointed. (Basically the gist of it was that the attraction to the same sex isn't a sin itself, but the act of sexual intercourse outside of a marriage between man and woman is.) Sooooooooo I decided to post this thing about last year. K cool.