Day Fifteen Challenge... the Fist of Prejudice

i still remember what you said to me,

"my house is better than a house with two Lesbians".

i still remember my stomach threatening to empty itself into my mouth and the smell of hate begging me to give in.

"But Mama.... Why"? 

"are you saying that a house with one lesbian is not good enough? are you saying that the lesbian child you raised isn't equipped for parenting"?

then i remembered to breathe forgiveness, i remembered to find the meanings scrambled behind your emotion, and there i discovered what you really wanted to tell me...

i broke your heart.

shattered the dream for your daughter to wed a man,

build a happily ever after, just to say that fairy-tales are real,

prove that little blacks girls can marry lawyers and doctors,

be whatever their imaginations conjure up,

because opportunities are laying about for the taking,

waiting for eager hands to take hold and run off into distant realities made realistic,

fashion homes and lives that grow proud and capable little black children.

but i broke you,

chose to be what i am,

chose to take the sentencing garnered by the three strikes of being

a woman, black, and gay.

i know you didn't want my life to be hard, what life isn't? and who's the judge and jury that determines what "hard" is? i know being a single black mother isn't easy, but being something you aren't is deadly.

the little black child you raise is a lesbian Mom,

a strong woman who chose the consequences of being Free...