Writing this piece as the author was most especially difficult in the sense of empathizing with a character with so much hate. I wanted to present a character that may be relatable in this day and age. I think that there is still so much hate when it comes to the LGBT community due to the lack of understanding that people are misinterpreting and they are scared of what they do not know. I also wanted to point out the fact of being raised in a certain direction from a young age can most definitely direct your view point without any knowledge that your thinking may be wrong. When raised by people that love you and show you love you can only think that they will guide you in the right direction. This character was someone that I could understand why the confusion was there and could on a lower level empathize with the ignorance.

My name is Jennifer Grace Smith and I was taken from my family at age 5. I was born into a whirlwind romance between two women who decided to go against the grain of the so called normal. The year was 1980 location Tupelo, Mississippi USA. I had a mommy I loved and I had a MaPa whom I loved very much as well. You may ask what a MaPa is and the best way I can describe it to you is a mother who didn’t give birth to me but loved me like her own. It took me many years to sit down and write this story about a life that I am not exactly proud of, but happens to be my own. Church is a huge thing down south and Baptist religion was the favored religion for the most part. My grandparents loved me dearly and every Saturday night I would sleep over in anticipation of Sunday morning Church. Papa Sean was a pastor at our church and I felt so special being a part of it because I got to be in the front row every week. Mommy and MaPa never came to church and I wondered why but age 5 didn’t think too deeply into it. For obvious reasons, like I said I was 5. Besides, Papa Sean told me they weren’t welcome and that was that I wasn’t to ask any more questions. I didn’t know it back then but I was starting my life of hatred masked by a reality in which I thought everyone lived. I would like to say I was groomed into this hate. Manufactured like some sort of science project or piece of machine equipment on a conveyor belt. I couldn’t have foreseen the damage and hurt that everyone I loved dearly was about to face.

I was confused why I was spending so much time at my grandparent’s home. It didn’t bother me much at the time I mean I loved Gramma Gene’s mud pies and she kept me plenty full of them anytime I did miss my mommy or MaPa. Mommy’s name was Bridget and MaPa was Carol. The grandparents I lived with were mommy Bridget’s parents. I didn’t know much about MaPa Carol’s parents. She used to tell me they just didn’t want to be a part of our lifestyle (whatever that meant). Papa Sean was very short with my mommy and when she did come by, the house went cold as if a ghost were passing through. There were many conversations that I wasn’t allowed to listen to so they would sit me in the front room with my dolls and tell me to stay put like a good girl. There was a TV. in the room but Papa Sean said it would poison my mind. I would think impure thoughts and turn out just like my mommy did. I sat on the cold floor with my doll pretending to play with it and would slowly make my way to the rocking chair so I could hear more of what was being said. “You can’t expect to raise her over at your house with another woman for God sakes Bridget! Where did we go wrong with you?” I hear Papa Sean softly yelling at mommy. “There is nothing wrong with me and bringing her up to love anyone she wishes and to not be judged by people like you is exactly what I intend to do! She’s my daughter dad and you can’t take her from us!” “Like Hell I can’t Bridget you bring the rest of her clothes here and do it with a quickness, my granddaughter will not be raised in a household where the devil has taken over” “Maybe we will get it right this time!” I hear the old creak of the wooden door attached to the kitchen fly open and my hair gust back with the wind from my mommy running out in tears. I jump back but not quick enough and I and mommy lock eyes. I knew in this moment that she was leaving me there for good. No turning back now. Hands held to her face as she ran out the storm door and bolted for the old pickup truck with rust stains on the side. I stood by the storm door and turned to my Papa Sean who said something to me that I would never forget. “Your mother is a sick woman with a disease. Until she agrees to conversion therapy and gets cured you are no longer to be a part of that perverted world.”

The years seemed to role by smoothly and I was a big part in my church and my group that was known as the American Family Association. This group founded in 1977 in my hometown of Tupelo. I had been an active member since before I was old enough to realize was hatred was. I was raised to believe that loving someone of the other sex was a sin and a choice. I was taught that you were born some way and that was the way to be. You couldn’t be born in another body. Anyone who chose to have these thoughts was downright sick in the mind. I knew that this had to be true because this was in the bible. God said that loving someone of the other sex is not right and I believed in God. In the words of Brian Fischer (a member of our group) “Homosexuality gave us Adolph Hitler, and homosexuals in the military gave us the Brown Shirts, the Nazi War machine and six million dead Jews.” How could I ever stand behind my mother for supporting this unnatural lifestyle that killed so many people? How could I even wrap my mind around the fact that knowing this people would still choose to act this way? I asked God for forgiveness for my mother and my Mapa. I knew that they needed to change their way of life or I could never be a part of it again and I felt the only way that I could make them see was to involve myself as much as possible in this group and show them this wasn’t a way of life. I felt determined to do everything in my power to let everyone know that this wasn’t right. God didn’t want this for anyone and this was a choice and they could get help with these conversion therapy camps that we set up all around. There was help and they could change and God would love them and I could have them back in my life. This began my short decent into a group of hate which I had known to be love and nothing more.

There were certain parts of my life that I am not proud of. One of these parts I remember clear as day. This day was what changed my way of thinking. I remember going to seek out my mother in hopes to read to her and MaPa the ways of the lord and what being gay was doing to their souls. I wanted to help them see the right way. The way that I had been raised to believe was the pure and good way of life. I feared with their homosexual behavior they wouldn’t be able to get to heaven. That day my mother sat me down with MaPa and they told me a story of love. “I understand you feel that we are not pure and not right with the lord, but let me tell you baby, the lord loves me for who I am. This lifestyle was not and is not a choice for us. This is the way we were born and this is the way God made us. We wanted you from the time that I figured out I was pregnant. Although my pregnancy was not from your Mapa, under the harsh circumstance, she wanted you anyways. We loved you before you were born and still love you today.” I thought to myself about the words that had come from her mouth and even though I heard these words before at my age of 25 they rang a little different to my ears. Mapa just sat and smiled with her eyes. “You are old enough and wise enough to figure out the true meaning of love and God.” “We knew at some point we would be having this conversation with you.” This made me rethink everything I had known about being gay. I took with me these words of a new wisdom and started to rethink everything I thought I knew about life. This time in my life was a pivotal changing point.

I began my research on the computer which I had snuck into the library to use. My Papa Sean was not keen on the whole idea of outside influence and I wasn’t very tech savvy. I thought to myself why is there all this hate? Did God intend us to hate one another for the reason of love? These questions circled in my head with an uncanny desire to make me dizzy. There were thoughts of speeches that I had listened to my whole life. I felt myself remembering my friend Gary’s hand being slapped for being “too limp from the wrist”. All this hate that I thought was taught from love. I felt hurt that my values of life were so skewed. Or were they? I felt as if I was having a spiritual awakening and with that my mind changed overnight. My story isn’t a story of teaching others and isn’t a story that has so many twists and turns. I eventually found my way to what I feel is right for me. Being a part of this group which I found to be a group full of hate wasn’t something I did because I hated anyone. What people need to understand is that a lot of people are born into the hate and are raised to feel this way since before they know how to think for themselves. The reconnection with my mother and mapa was something that I knew I wanted for years but due to the strong values which were installed in me from a young age was not possible.

Now I know love comes in all shapes and forms and God does love us all. I still have a relationship with my grandparents, but there is a lot of animosity from the way of life I was forced to live due to the fact that my grandparents were able to take me from my mother. I feel that my mother felt guilty as well, and although I am ashamed of the people that I have hated in my life and made feel less than who they were, I feel that my appreciation for every person and their life choices are from a more appreciative view. I love my mother and my mapa and I hope that my story can reach at least one person. I want to end my story with a fact that I had found in my research finding myself that stuck with me throughout the years. 40% of teens who are lesbian, gay, bisexual or unsure of orientation considered suicide in the past year. Remember you can make a difference by looking outside of the normal and putting yourself in another person’s shoes. Be the change you want to see.