The Challenging Path to Self Acceptance

14

After the events with my brother, things got better between him and I. He didn't tell anyone, and respected the fact that I still wasn't all that comfortable with the fact that I was gay. Honestly though, I started to get more comfortable with me being gay. I began to feel like there really was nothing wrong with me, and that everything my brother had told me was true. I began to think about all the things that I had done right instead of the one thing that I had done wrong, and then I began to think that maybe that one thing wasn't so wrong. But, not all good things could last.

In school, you always hear stories about someone who was brave enough to stand up for what they believe in, and you always read books about people who dared to be different. You are taught that only the brave and the exceptional could stand up against their oppressors, or fight against something that wasn't right. You wish that you were brave enough to protest for what's right, but you accept the fact that you just aren't brave enough. That's how I've always felt anyway.

The thing about my generation, is that we were born too late to shape the world, but too early to change it. There was nothing worth fighting for anymore, but we were being taught that you have to fight to change the world in order to matter. Gay marriage was already legal in all 50 states in America, women were equals, there was no more segregation, everybody was free, and things were good for the most part. There was nothing worth protesting for, so everyone in my generation was born to be worthless, because you have to protest to be valuable.

I never agreed with any of that. I never thought that anyone was worthless, and I never thought that politics would change someone's worth. I always believed that a person should be judged based on who they were as a person, and the decisions that they made. That was it. But I never held myself to the same standards, and I thought that I needed to protest something to be important. However, I never thought that I would ever have the opportunity to protest, so I would never be important. But I eventually did get my opportunity. 

My family was in church, once again, and I was once again listening to my priest talk about issues in our world. Today's topic, was homosexuality. I was uncomfortable, and I was low key panicking. I guess it wasn't as low key as I thought though, because my brother somehow knew. My parents seemed to be listening intently, and feeding off of every word that was spoken, my brother looked angry, and I was quietly freaking out. Then, something unexpected happened.

Our priest was going on about how bad it was for someone to be gay, when my brother stood up. Everyone around us looked at him, and our priest faltered a little bit in what he was saying. I watched him in surprise as he began to walk out of the church entirely. He looked back at me just before he left, and I then knew exactly why he left. He didn't agree with what he was being told, and he knew I wasn't ok with it either. So he did something that no one else had even thought about doing, and stood up and left. 

I thought for a moment. This was my opportunity. This was my chance to do something that would make a change in my life. However, it would probably mean that my parents would find out about me being gay. I really didn't want that to happen, but, I didn't want my brother to be leaving alone, I was sick of feeling the way I was, and what our priest was teaching us, was wrong. So, I took a deep breath, summoned all of my courage, stood up, and walked out of the church.

I found my brother waiting for me outside, leaning against the wall next to the door. When I walked out, he looked at me, and smiled, glad to see that I had got his message, and followed him out. After almost no time at all, the church door opened again, and my brother and I both turned to see who it was. I was expecting it to be our parents, there to grab us by our ears and make us sit back down and listen to our priest go on about how disgusting gay people were. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Fin. 

Fin didn't go to church often, because he didn't have the best home life, and wasn't always able to make it there. He did walk down to the church sometimes though, and this just happened to be one of those times. I smiled gratefully at him, he smiled sincerely back, and placed a kind hand on my shoulder. It was a simple gesture, that had no words to go with it, but it said everything that it needed to. I knew that Fin was supportive of me, and that was all I could ever ask for from him.

The three of us walked back to my house, and hung out there for the rest of the day. Well, I mean, we tried anyway. When church ended, and everyone went to their homes, I started to panic. My parents were going to be so angry, and they would want to know why we walked out, and I would be forced to come out to them. Then they would hate me.

I heard the front door slam, then thundering feet stomping up the stairs, followed by banging on my bedroom door. I took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself as I slowly opened the door. Both of my parents glared at all three of us in the room, more me than the others though. Probably because I was right in front of them.