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How Old Were You

I read two children's books.  One is named Rainbow: A First Pride Book. It is an amazing book. Everything I'm looking for in a kid's book. It is short, clear, and ends with smiles. Every child should feel loved, be able to express themselves and see an encouraging environment. That is what Michael Genhart provides in a simple way, while explaining the pride flag. Beautiful.

 The second book is Jacob's Room to Choose is a lovely children's book. It is bright, short and shows the exact lessons we want for all the children in our lives. Sarah and Ian Hoffman created some clear characters, support and encouragement in story with the happy conclusions we want in our stories. In a world where kids are often faced with adult problems, this book gives solutions at a child's level. I encourage it for anyone with small children in their lives.

How old were you when you realized you were straight?  I have felt the need to ask this question several times in my life.  Most recently, the question about my bisexuality was framed as "When did you know you were different?"  I think it was to include people who had different genders along with different sexuality than those that are prescribed.  The question is based on this idea of the differences being learned or chosen, rather than innate, and that this difference is an abnormal, a less than.

That is part of what I grew up feeling.  That I was different, abnormal and less than. Note that I say grew up feeling that way.  When someone asks that rude question, I don't say "When did you realize that you were straight?" I tell a story about kindergarten, though the truth is, it was before kindergarten and there are three stories. 

I was born a sassy little piece of shit with a mind of her own.  I could sass back to anything, and there are stories from every person I was around of me doing it.  That stopped when I was four because of a traumatic incident with my maternal grandparents.  I started being a shy kid.  I didn't like being the center of attention, even if it was for praise. I would not disagree with anyone out loud.  Occasionally, I would stop talking at all if someone of power did something wrong or I'd start crying.  I say start crying, because I didn't know how to stop. I often thought I would die crying, because I couldn't breathe through the tears.  When asked what was happening and why I was crying, I would push out the words, "I... can't.. stop... crying... I... don't... know."

I remember sitting in primary school at church, pretending to sing along with the Sunday school songs. I didn't sing the songs, but I mouthed all the words so no one would notice.  This particular Sunday, someone noticed. A woman, one of the leaders, asked me to come up to the front of the room to lead the song. I tried to tell the lady no by shaking my head, but she did not appear to understand. I tried to say no, but she didn't listen.  She picked me up out of the seat and pushed me along to the front.  That's when I decided I was done being part of the church.

I was going to the grocery store with one of my parents.  We were in the parking lot and there was a gay couple walking to their car, and they kissed.  Something to the equivalent of " They can do what they want, but I don't want to see it.  That's just stupid."  I remember hearing my parents say "I don't think there are bisexuals, they are just  gay and don't want to admit it." "Or sluts." These overheard moments in my ears convinced me to stay in a comfortable closet for years, small and hiding.

Children of today don't hear as many of these kind of statements from ignorant people that want to take it back.  When they do, sometimes, they have TV saying something different.  When they don't, they need books like these.  Letting they know their history through the Pride flag.  Letting them know that they can have pride.  Letting them know to accept the way that someone else lives by taking easy steps.









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