I asked my mother what she’d do if I were gay and she said that she’d do her best to “cure my problem” however she can. When I told her that something like that isn’t curable she said she’d disown me if I were so terribly “abnormal“. Well, I don’t know about the disowning part, but she’d definitely try to “cure” it. And now I don’t know what to feel; I’m confused. Should I thank my stars that I’m not gay? Should I be upset that she wouldn’t have have forgiven me for being gay even though I’m her daughter? What should I feel about homosexuality then? Should I hate it and and avoid it just like her? Or should I oppose her opinions? Should I keep quiet about it and accept the prejudice or protest? I know someone who is bisexual and even though mum knows her name I haven’t told her that bit because I don’t want my mum to hate her. She’s a nice girl.
Homosexuality hadn’t seem real enough until my friend realised she’s bisexual. The fact that mum hates them had bothered me but I’d always refrained myself from thinking about it until now. Whatever I do about this will put an influence upon our friendship. I won’t be able to look at her if I accept what mum believes. But then again, I’ve never really went against her word. As a child (and before fandoms happened) I’d believed everything she’d told me: when she’d told me to dislike the Blacks and the South Indians because of their complexion, or to avoid the people from lower castes because their ancestors were poor and uneducated, I’d done just that. When she’d said that girls shouldn’t play with boys and that boys were cowards and ugly when they cried, I’d believed her. I’d believed that girls who weren’t fair or skinny were ugly and therefore should be disliked, and boys who weren’t tall and good at bullying were cowards and worthless, that all men who weren’t my father looked at me with lustful eyes, that I shouldn’t be friends with Muslims, because my family taught me all that. But then I’d found friends who were Muslims or boys or both, children who had dark complexions or were from lower castes, short boys who cried a lot and tall girls who played football in the mud. Which is why I’d always forced myself to stop being friends with them right after knowing them a bit, and hardly ever invited them to my house, for mum and dad would be disappointed. I don’t blame mum for her views on such subjects. After all, her family and society had always been very hard on her. But I don’t want to be like that. Otherwise I’d never be able to look at my friend. And, of course, how can I forget the fandoms I’m so devoted to? This is sort of why I love these fandoms, these books and tv series and the people who enjoy them. It sounds terribly silly but they’ve taught me things that I haven’t been able to learn from reality.