Letter To My Maa

Maa,

It’s out there, if you want to see it. I’m not subtle about it. I like people, whatever they may identify as. But I won’t come out to you, not now, because I know you’re not ready for it.

It’s not your fault. You’ve lived your life believing it is unnatural. That it’s a disease. Change is not easy. It wasn’t to me; it definitely isn’t going to be, for you.

You’re a fairly open minded person. I know you’d have been supportive had you been a little younger, a little more exposed.

You did not know of the many that lived and loved in hiding, because the world did not find their love normal.

I cannot come out, because I know what the outcome is. I’ve tested the waters, I’ve dropped blatant hints. I once almost did it, but your reluctance to even say the word made me realise it is still too early. I could only imagine how hurt you would be, when you realise I am something unspeakable to you.

That day, we both knew what I meant. We both refused to say it. When I let it go and said it was nothing, we both sighed in relief.

I know I’m living a lie, but it’s only because the truth is uglier. I cannot go a day without talking to you, I lose sleep even at the thought of fighting with you. The idea of you not being okay with something in my life makes me wonder if it really is worth it.

I know it is, because it is who I am. But I learnt homophobia a lot before I learnt what homosexuality is.

Do you know what happens when you realise you are what you’re expected to hate?

Shame. Guilt. Anger. All at yourself.

I know you will have trouble accepting this, accepting me. I had to fight for my own acceptance, before I come for yours. For a while, I had convinced myself that I cannot be one of “them”.

The ones you frown at. The ones that disgust you. The ones for whom love is forbidden.

I can only hope that someday, you’ll be fine. That you’ll drop hints too. That it’s time. That you won’t hate me. That you won’t find me sick and disgusting.

That I won’t lose you for who I am.

Maybe we’ll laugh over it.  Maybe you’ll tell me you love me no matter what. And I’ll trust you, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

A little understanding. A little acceptance.

But someday, if I fall for someone who is not the right gender for you, I hope I will not have to hide my happiness from you. I refuse to let my love be a dirty, shameful secret.

Till then, here’s to the little jokes that we’re both slightly uncomfortable with, for they’re too true to be humorous.

Truly,

Still your child