Gay.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to get all spiritual or political. I simply want to share two stories with you.

The first happened when I was just a kid. I typically stayed 1-2 weeks with my grandparents each summer. It gave me time to be with “that side of the family.” They lived in a very conservative state - although I didn’t know what that meant then. I just knew I loved my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins from “that side of the family.”

We weren’t allowed to watch the Carol Burnett Show or Sesame Street when I visited. Apparently, since both shows “allowed” Black people to interact with White people, they were forbidden. In fact, “that side of the family” was very vocal that we couldn’t watch Carol Burnett because she allowed Black people to dance with White people.

My aunt, specifically, used a derogatory term when referring to Black people. I came home one summer and asked my parents what the word meant because it wasn’t spoken in our house. I was told it was a hateful word and to never, ever say it again.

My favorite cousins were from “that side of the family.” One was named Glenn. Glenn, his sister, and I would play from dawn till dusk. We had a great time exploring the small town in which they lived when I visited them. I loved Glenn very much.

During my high school years, Glenn disappeared. He simply disappeared. He was two years older than me, so we were told that he had left home. It hurt me because Glenn didn’t say goodbye.

It wasn’t until I was engaged to Tommy that Glenn suddenly showed up at my family’s doorstep to give me a wedding gift. As soon as I opened the back door, I grabbed Glenn and hugged him. We both began to cry. The tears were both from the joy of our reunion and the pain of lost time.

I asked Glenn where he had been? He said, “Roni, I’m Gay. My parents disowned me and told me the rest of the family disowned me. I didn’t know your parents would let me see you until they tracked me down to let me know you were getting married.”

I’ve always resented “that side of the family” for making decisions for me. I knew it wasn’t my grandparents because my grandfather had beat the crap out of the local grocer when the grocer wouldn’t sell food to a Black family. The hate was mostly centered around my aunts and uncles. Still, my grandparents wouldn’t answer my questions about Glenn either. I figured out Black was okay with them. Gay was not okay.

”That side of the family” were devout Christians. Yet, their form of Christianity was never the same as my parents’ teachings, behavior or beliefs. As I’ve aged, I’ve realized not only was “that side of the family” shallow. “That side of Christianity” is equally shallow. I appreciate my parents for allowing me to be exposed to both.

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