KarMel
Scholarship 2007
|
“Immoral Highground” By Anonymous |
Desciption of Submission: A
soon-to-be ex-friend tells me that my mothers lifestyle is “unholy” and “immoral”
and I tell him exactly what I think about his bullshit opinions.
A
few nights ago, I was sitting at a friends’ house watching him play video games
while a couple of other people sat around chatting. It was just a typical
night; we listened to some music, ate some potato chips, but then someone began
to discuss politics. As Ms. Manners has told us time and time again, there are
three things which should never be discussed in the company of friends:
religion, war, and politics. At first, I just ignored him. Opinions are
opinions and I was better off just focusing on my chipotle flavored Pringles
than being baited by his neo-conservative rhetoric…but then he had to mention
homosexuality.
Homosexuality. The word just sounds like a laboratory test;
so formal, so devoid of human feeling. It’s a subject that strikes deeply into
my heart, one that I cannot ignore nor let other people lambaste. What is the
reason for such an immediate and passionate defense? My mother is a lesbian and
I am proud to accept her as such.
His criticisms
were much the same as anything you would hear on a “moral majority” radio show.
How “unnatural” same-sex love is, how it’s a product of an unhappy childhood
and other such nonsense. I let him rant until he said, assuming none of those
around him had gay and/or lesbian family members: “And besides, we all know
that the children of such unholy unions always end up psychologically tortured,
emotionally warped nightmares.”
I put the
plastic top back onto my tube of potato chips, not wanting to waste any of
their flavor while I argued with my new ex-friend.
”So,” I said, wiping my sticky hands on my jeans, “You really think that all
children of homosexuals end up being so fucked up?”
“Of course. Statistics have shown time and time again that this
is the truth.” He said.
“But what about me?” I said calmly, looking him straight in the eye.
He looked at
me for a moment, not understanding. Then I showed him a picture of my mother
holding hands with her wife (they were married in international waters off the
coast of
“Tell me, since we’ve known each other for a while
now, am I a torture psychological mess? Am I an emotionally warped nightmare?
Do I seem unhealthy, mentally or physically in any way? You get on your soap
box and tell me that my mothers’ lifestyle is morally corrupt and then have
nothing to say when confronted? Typical. My mother raised my sister and I in a decaying neighborhood where gunshots were heard
nightly, alone. She worked 65 hours a week to make sure she could keep us warm
and fed and without the benefit of a male counterpart. She took out loans she
could barely handle so she could send me to college so that I wouldn’t have to
suffer like she has. If another woman is what it takes to make her happy, then
so be it. I love her and accept her for who she is, no matter what ignorant
dicks like yourself think about it.”
I
picked up my backpack and headed for the door. There are plenty of boys in this
world who can think for themselves and not rely on Rush Limbaugh to make their “moral”
decisions. As I was walking out he began to call out my name, but before I
could hear the rest, the door was shut and I was walking