Stereotype

In the end, it turned out being less about a stereotype and more about myself.

On the 27th it'll make 10 months since I've came out to my mom. She didn't say a word to me two months after doing so, and when she finally talked to me about it all she said was, "You're not allowed to dress dykie. There are rules in this house, and that's just one of them."

She's always talked about me behind my back to my brother and sister-in-law, saying things like, "She can't bring girls to the house." "I hate her fucking rainbow shit." and "I hope it's just a phase."

She's never told me that she accepts me for who I am, that it doesn't matter who I love. This whole thing has really put a wedge between us. Most people can go home and don't have to worry about what they say, who they talk to, what they wear, and they don't have to hide such a huge part of themselves. I can't have a friend over without my mom asking if they're straight.

If I'm having relationship troubles I can't go to her and talk about it. There's so much about me that she doesn't know, and most likely won't ever know. That's just how things are.

I wish I would have said that today in class, when we had to critique my painting. Wish wish wish wish.