Hey Puddin's! I woke up today with a migraine and a back spasm, so, needless to say, I haven't gone to work for the last two days. However, over my extended weekend, I've had time to think about a recent death in my family. A few weeks ago, I found out that my uncle had passed away. He was 79 years old and the fourth one of his nine other siblings to pass on. Here's where the rabbit hole gets deep. Thinking about his life and the hundreds of people that he has touched brought me to think about the choices we make in our lives. The decisions, whether for good or bad, that we make throughout the time we have on this earth. Are we the sum of our mistakes? The sum of our changes? Both? I was asked if I was attending the funeral and at the time the question was posed, I wasn't sure I would go. However, I decided against it, for various reasons. The first among them was the fact that the deceased was the father of the person who molested me for three years of my life as well as others in our family. How was I supposed to support and comfort him in a moment in which he was verily deserving of such. I mean, he lost his father...that deserved some sort of kindness. Did that need to come from me though? Am I a horrible person because it didn't?
I was 15 years old when the story of my trauma broke in my family. I was 24 when I took control of my story and told the world, my way. Many have asked if I have forgive my cousin for what he's done and the truth is, I have. Forgiveness is a gift we give to people. It's the opportunity for them to take accountability and responsibility for the harm they've caused, but the choice on whether or not they do is up to them. I learned a long time ago, that I'm not responsible for what a person does with the gift of forgiveness, it's simply my job to offer it. When I'm ready, of course. So, yes. I have forgiven him, but I've also created a boundary that until he is able to have an honest conversation with me, he does not have access to me.
The other issue was simply my truth. I am a feminine presenting gay man. I wear makeup, I wear dresses and heels, I defy all things that the Christian beliefs of most of my family are set upon. Even for the ones that aren't extremely religious, the bias of their homophobia and their heteronormative upbringing still places me in the "other" category. You know, for all the gay people that I know exist in my family, it often feels like I am the MOST outcast. Talked about behind closed doors, but the information always comes back to me. For the other gay men in my family, they at least present male. The women in my family who present masculine get a pass because...well, their women! The one's who don't, no one really flutters an eyelash. I do have a trans sister but the family isn't close to her in any fashion, but me? The one they grew up with? The one they watched evolve? Yea, I'm the eyesore. I'm the estranged "faggot" that they'll tolerate but never truly embrace.
A lot of my family is set up on image, designer labels, prestige and such. You've gotta be one of the cool kids to sit at their table. Unfortunately, there are those of us who no longer wish to attend the event, let alone sit at their table. There are a few that I still connect with. Ones that understand the importance of truth and honesty, love and compassion, honor and respect.
It's hard to be in a room full of people that you're related to and feel so utterly like an outsider. Alone. Abandoned. Expendable. You know that if you died tomorrow, they'd show up to your funeral, crying, sharing memories of a version of you that probably doesn't even exist anymore. Did they really know you? Did you really know them?
When I think about my uncle, I know there are things in his past that he wasn't proud of, but when I think about the man he became, despite his faults, I know he's done a litany of good. He made choices that positively affected so many families in need of help. Yet, his death, the loss that his death creates in the hearts of my family, it put's things in a different perspective. Makes you ask the hard questions. The ones we whisper to ourselves, secretly hoping no one will truly answer.
It's hard to admit that even after all this time, I wish my family, as a whole, could heal the hurts that we've collectively suppressed. Take accountability for the damage we've caused one another. I want us to break the generational curses that many of us have inherited. Curses of rape and molestation, the curses of brokenness, the curse of being forgotten. I still believe that family is one of the most important factors of a person's life, whether chosen or blood related, but sometimes...even family hurts you deeply.
I'm sorry you had to experience this trauma but glad you are continue to heal.