In the 1960s when I was a teenager, the term gay meant happy. Even though I knew that one of the English teachers in my high school was "effeminate," I still had no idea what homosexuality was. As a matter of fact, the first time I met a gay person was when my oldest daughter married a man whose mother was gay.
Today, most children understand not only what it means to be gay, but also how easily they can bash around this group of people – oftentimes with support from fellow classmates, teachers, and even administrators.
I've seen parents disown their own children after discovering their children were gay – and I can't help but wonder – how can a mother or a father suddenly stop loving a child because that child is gay?
And how difficult must it be for gays to "come out" to loved ones? One of my dearest friends is gay. He agonized over telling his wife and his children. His experience was so excruciatingly painful, in fact, that I have to ask, "Why would anybody choose to be gay?" I honestly think that if people had a choice, they would choose to be straight simply to avoid the hate, the rage, and the anger flung at them.
Gays are persecuted mercilessly from an early age. A little boy gets called a sissy; a little girl is labeled butch. Why?
How many times have I heard Bible-toting judgmental people (who call themselves Christians, by the way) admonish gay people by telling them they are evil.
Again, I am perplexed. The two gay people I know are in committed, loving relationships. How can love be evil?
I wonder, if I were to suddenly awaken tomorrow morning and find out I was gay, would my family still love me? Would my friends? I would hope so.
Thankfully (and I say thankfully because of what I've seen gays go through) I'm not gay. I don't think I would have the stamina to deal with people who hated me for being gay, because unless I was Ellen Degeneres or Jane Lynch, I would probably find myself hiding from my tormenters as I know many gays still do. I might even have been one of those poor unfortunate souls who committed suicide because I just couldn't stand being surrounded by so much hatred every day.
Why do people think that being gay is a choice? Would YOU choose to be persecuted relentlessly every single day of your life?
And what if one day you discovered one of your children or grandchildren was gay? You know what? I can say with certainty that I would love my child or grandchild as much as I do today. Unequivocally.
I've said it before. I'll say it again. It's time we stopped just tolerating people and started accepting people for who they are. If we haven't learned by the time we are adults how to empathize, we have to start over. Empathy is the first step toward acceptance.
We must also teach our children to be empathetic and to learn the difference between tolerance and acceptance. Above all, we need to learn – and we need to teach our children – to STOP THE BASHING!
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
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Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Mothering or Smothering?
Since I was five years old, I've had asthma. My parents had no idea what to expect from an asthmatic child, so my mother's first instincts were to rush into overprotective drive. In the winter, back in the day when girls weren't allowed to wear pants, she would dress me in leotards. Under the leotards I wore bulky long underwear.
The school uniform consisted of a wool skirt, a short-sleeved blouse, and a vest. Over the vest I wore a sweater – buttoned up. Over the sweater was a heavy winter jacket. I also wore a hat, gloves, a scarf, and boots. (My sister Cindy once drew a picture of how my sisters and I looked – like giant balloons bouncing down the street. One swift wind would have blown us sky high.)
By the time I got to school, which was four blocks away from my home, I was drenched in sweat. I was always the last child to undress at the lockers. Until my body acclimated to the indoor conditions, I would shiver until the sweat dried up.
However, after having children of my own, I understand why my mother was so over-protective. She was afraid she would lose me to one of my asthma attacks. All of her actions generated from fear.
I operated from fear all of my children's lives too. I still do. When one isn't happy, I'm the first one to rush in with remedies. We all want to raise happy and healthy children and many parents will do whatever it takes to ensure a happy healthy outcome.
But are we smothering our children? I recently read an article in Ladies' Home Journal, entitled, Smotherly Love, written by Michelle Blake. Michelle wrote, "The truth was that seeing my children unhappy made me unhappy. And I didn't like that….my kids could sense my anxiety in the vibrato of my forced cheerfulness and my fumbling attempts to suss out crucial information…Too often they got the message that the fleeting unhappiness brought on by disappointment of any kind constituted an intolerable burden–for them and for me. It was better not to try than to fail, better to stay in your known little world and avoid the judgments of the wide and wicked universe."
As parents, we are forever learning. My children are all grown and I'm still jumping in to save them from sorrow. But I have to remember that when they first started walking, they, like every other baby, fell numerous times. I had to learn that it was OK for them to fall, that I didn't have to be there every second to pick them up or to make sure they were not hurting. I have to learn to allow them to fail too, so they can pick themselves up again and move on from their pain or their sorrow.
Our goal as parents is not to insure our child's happiness, but to support our child when he or she fails and succeeds. Children have to expect to feel pain in their lives and we have to learn how to step back and allow our children to live their own lives. If we smother them with love, they won't be able to breathe.
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
All Craft Connection
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writing Creatively
Paranormal Minds
Product Favorites
Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles
The school uniform consisted of a wool skirt, a short-sleeved blouse, and a vest. Over the vest I wore a sweater – buttoned up. Over the sweater was a heavy winter jacket. I also wore a hat, gloves, a scarf, and boots. (My sister Cindy once drew a picture of how my sisters and I looked – like giant balloons bouncing down the street. One swift wind would have blown us sky high.)
By the time I got to school, which was four blocks away from my home, I was drenched in sweat. I was always the last child to undress at the lockers. Until my body acclimated to the indoor conditions, I would shiver until the sweat dried up.
However, after having children of my own, I understand why my mother was so over-protective. She was afraid she would lose me to one of my asthma attacks. All of her actions generated from fear.
I operated from fear all of my children's lives too. I still do. When one isn't happy, I'm the first one to rush in with remedies. We all want to raise happy and healthy children and many parents will do whatever it takes to ensure a happy healthy outcome.
But are we smothering our children? I recently read an article in Ladies' Home Journal, entitled, Smotherly Love, written by Michelle Blake. Michelle wrote, "The truth was that seeing my children unhappy made me unhappy. And I didn't like that….my kids could sense my anxiety in the vibrato of my forced cheerfulness and my fumbling attempts to suss out crucial information…Too often they got the message that the fleeting unhappiness brought on by disappointment of any kind constituted an intolerable burden–for them and for me. It was better not to try than to fail, better to stay in your known little world and avoid the judgments of the wide and wicked universe."
As parents, we are forever learning. My children are all grown and I'm still jumping in to save them from sorrow. But I have to remember that when they first started walking, they, like every other baby, fell numerous times. I had to learn that it was OK for them to fall, that I didn't have to be there every second to pick them up or to make sure they were not hurting. I have to learn to allow them to fail too, so they can pick themselves up again and move on from their pain or their sorrow.
Our goal as parents is not to insure our child's happiness, but to support our child when he or she fails and succeeds. Children have to expect to feel pain in their lives and we have to learn how to step back and allow our children to live their own lives. If we smother them with love, they won't be able to breathe.
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
All Craft Connection
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writing Creatively
Paranormal Minds
Product Favorites
Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles
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