What is it that a baby sees when it opens it’s eyes to the world? Does it see the smiling faces of the doctors as they say, “It’s a boy” or “It’s a girl”? Does it see the smiling faces of it’s mother or it’s father as they look at the little tiny miracle that was made during a night of passion or force? From then, this child is given a name, an identity forged by those around it. It isn’t until they become older and realize that their home life isn’t what others have. Some have it worse. Some have it better. Some parents exist in their child’s life. Some parents say their children are nothing but shit. Some parents wonder how they got blessed with their child. Some parents wish their child was never born. Some children have the support of their parents. Some children do not have parents.
For me, I have a relationship with only one parent. My mom, Barbara, means the world to me. Our family is Italian immigrants, who looked to start a new life here in America. My father, Floyd, was a child molester. He had abused my older sisters, and abused his first wife whom out of the protection of her two daughters, fled from my father and didn’t look back, despite losing her daughters to her ex-husband’s abusive mother, Vivian. She was able to win custody back of her daughters and beat her alcoholism in the last few years of her life, battling pancreatic cancer at the same time. Then, my father met my mother, Barbara, a young Italian immigrant who lived in Detroit with her parents who were abusive as well. He abused her during their marriage, having two sons and their only daughter together, me. Raebeth Kathryne Karlah, a baby that was going to be full of promise, living the Identity Christian lifestyle, supporting the Ku Klux Klan, and having a white husband… white children… a life of bigotry that would pass down to generations unless one person would be able to stop the cycle.
It would take my sisters, my brother Raymond, and me to break this. Through therapy, being taken into Foster Care, and through getting an African American woman pregnant and giving birth into the world my beautiful niece and handsome nephew. While I no longer have a relationship with my brother and my niece and nephew, I still thank them for saving my life, rescuing me from Foster Care and being placed away from my abusive father and mother who is getting her life back together once and for all.
I am a young woman. I just turned 18. And I am left with very little emotionally and physically, all because my foster grandmother, Maime, has accused me of being a devil worshipper because I’m gay.
Yes, you read that right. I am a devil worshiper because I’m gay. Well, she doesn’t know I’m gay. She has only known I am bisexual. And yes, I am terrified to come out to her yet again. I am afraid to face “devil worshiper” and “lesbian shit” insults again. That was what happened last summer, all because I made one “pro-gay marriage” status update on my Facebook. Just one, and it gets my phone taken away, myself back in the closet, and afraid for my emotional stability and my life. She claimed she supported me. In actuality, she never did. Now, she tries to push me to be with men. But I don’t want a man to spend the rest of my life with.
I want a woman. And I won’t be silenced when I meet the woman of my dreams who accepts me for who I am and is willing to chase dreams with me by her side.
Maybe, this blog will help me, being read by people, whether millions or only a select few. Either way, I am a writer and hey, who knows, maybe I’ll get famous one day, writing my cares away in medieval worlds and sc-fi settings. Maybe this will help me get my light back, where I shine in the darkness, even when I hang just a sliver in the sky.
I hold on because I’ve seen those I love starve themselves to death in one’s atmosphere that left them with no room to breathe.
I am gay. I am a Christian. I aspire to one day, be a Journalist and become an Author as well. I am Rae. This is my Light.
And no one will stop me from being who I am; full moon.
“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”-E.E Cummings
Last updated May 19, 2017