A letter from a friend

A letter to my future children

Dear son, daughter or non-gender conforming, probably, adopted child.

I've always been asked, “Would you want your children to be gay?” And my answer frankly is no. I sure do hope that in a foreseeable future, the LGBT community will finally be seen as a community not created out of social sigma and segregation, but one of the many layers of a dynamic, liberal society; playing a big part in world without fear of social injustice. But I don't think you and I will ever live that long to see it happen. That world I have dreamed of and the one I long to see, is a bit naive to believe in. As I write to you now, the queer are still being treated as if we are the scum of the earth, and that we deserve to be hated. What parent would want their child to be persecuted on a daily basis? Maybe that's really the reason why my parents right now will never accept the fact that I am proud of who I am, who I stand for. I don't want you, my children to grow up in a world in which you have to worry about holding your partners hand in public, worried about what others will shout at you in the streets, as if this was a choice. If being gay was a choice, it would have been easier for me to "choose" to be straight. I do not want my children to go through what I have to endure.

Children, do not get me wrong. There is a beauty in growing up in a world so harsh. There is a certain beauty in the way people have overcome oppression, to fully express themselves, and ensure that future generations will never have to lead the lives they had. I will try my best to make up for humanity's mistakes. I want to broaden their views, be the change, as unrealistic of a goal that seems to be.

If you are "different", it is not me that you have to worry about. The real battle is to wake up every single day, and telling yourself that you are no lesser than anyone else even if it seems that the world wants you to fail, even if people shout slurs and insults, justified by their organized religion, but are not out of love; they are made out of hate and the intent to hurt. You do all this, and smile.

I love you,

Ez