Finding Myself in LGBTQ+ History Month

 

*warning. Derogatory homophobic language used in post*

I didn’t realise until I saw Lesbemums Instagram at the beginning of February that it’s LGBTQ+ History month.

Ever since there’s been a nagging feeling that I should write......something; even if I did publish it in the last day. 

I had an incredibly misogynistic, homophobic, ablest, racist and bigoted childhood.

Dad was at the centre of it. To me, Mum would verbally oppose it.

Through my mum I saw gender identity boundaries broken down. She embodied and publicly supported feminism. I saw a strong fighter for minorities and equalities in every job she had.

She was the one who showed me that, despite my disability, I had a lot to offer the world.

Yet around my dad she was complicit.

Sins of the Father

 

*Please note: Degoratory Homophobic Language used in this post* 

I’m currently sat on my bed, taking deep breaths to regulate my emotions; a difficult process for someone with traits of emotional instability.

Dad going into hospital has opened so many secrets that it’s difficult to know where to begin.

Growing up knowing I was adopted always made me feel special. I was chosen.

I had a happy childhood.

I think the more accurate statement would be “I had a happy 80s childhood”.

One More Thing

Life is often filled with many unexpected twists and turns.

I always find the moment we start to feel comfortable life suddenly jumps in and says “No, let’s have some fun."

2 weeks ago, I received a call saying that my dad was found collapsed on the floor at home. He was on the way to a local hospital after having a suspected stroke.

With the current restrictions in place, he had to go by himself.