I have one rule: don’t post when you’re mad. This is one of those times when my rule doesn’t matter.
It’s Pride month. And the celebration is hard-won. The glorious riot of people who’d had enough of indignity and cruelty.
We are a community that celebrates the families we have made, and the truth we tell, despite the danger inherent in telling the truth. In being disobedient to the dominant culture.
You don’t have to understand being gay. You don’t have to understand being queer. You don’t have to understand being trans. You don’t have to understand being bisexual or pansexual or asexual. IT. IS. NOT. ABOUT. YOU.
IT IS NOT ABOUT YOU, MOTHERFUCKER.
You don’t get to apply the grace and love of Jesus to yourself, and the wrath and judgment of old-testament God to the rest of us. Fuck. You.
For real. Fuck you.
You don’t have to understand ANYTHING to love your neighbor. You don’t have to understand anything to love a child that is not the person you think they should be. Back up. Your child is not you. They get to be whomever they envision. That is what we do here on earth. We make the best of our short time. We tell the truth about ourselves. We show up for each other. We do our best.
And sometimes we say the wrong thing. Sometimes we do the wrong thing. But despite all of that we get up, shake off our worries, and show up for each other.
You deny your kid your love, and you increase their exposure to suicidal thoughts, dangerous situations, plagues of shame and self-doubt. You created this human being, but you don’t get to make their choices for them. That’s not how this works. We each choose for ourselves.
Show up. Love them. YOU HAVE ONE FUCKING JOB, PARENTS. LOVE YOUR CHILD. You don’t have to understand them to see how fucking beautiful they are. Even when they are flailing. Even when they are making decisions you don’t agree with. Stay close to them. Be supportive. Love them. For christsake. Love is the least of it, you selfish motherfuckers. Your child is the best of you.
A beacon in the night ahead.
Celebrate them. Because I do. I celebrate them. I hold a mother parade every day for the wonder of it all. The inexplicable beauty of this weird fucking planet, and all these children who might be anything.