Shadowed

Independence is the key to yourself

My mom didn’t have a plan for me to exist. The lessons I learned were lessons of rebellion. I am nonbinary so I had no choice but to allow my mother to control my narrative as a child. The most dangerous thing a child can go through. Allowing their parents to set their narrative, and tell their stories, “She’s just a cute tomboy.”

I was a rebellious child, born to a domestic cisgender Christian woman. The insecurities she had surrounding my gender and orientation, created a communication wall in our relationship. As the child in the relationship my style of communicating was usually temper tantrums. What she wanted was a girl who likes pink, wants me to get dirty just to impress the boys, and wanted me to remember a celibacy promise to her god(s). She wanted me tattoo-less in case my husband didn’t like it.

My mom tried to teach me that as a woman my entire existence was to help, develop, and create a suitable living environment for men to live in. My husband will then feel the need to return the favor and take care of his woman. Me.

I learned growing up that my fathers needs were first, then mother’s needs were second. Shadowed in niceness, she homeschooled my siblings and I because she didn’t want us to grow up and be taught how to be in gay in school. She screamed at us when we didn’t do our schoolwork and abandoned the question when our workload was beyond her intellect. She loved complements from people in church about “How she did it?” “How she raised and schooled so many children?” People were very impressed with her… meanwhile, I started college below average.

Shadowed again, she read to us every morning, a book called Beautiful Girlhood, a guide for preteens and women on how to become a good godly woman, by Karen Andreola. This book was a long list of what people, who are born with vaginas, MUST think and do. My brothers could play outside on the jungle gym while my sisters and I were forced to listen to all the rules our anatomy cursed us with. It was literally a curse. The curse of Eve. Evolution the ever-tumbling rolling dice, my sisters and I were born without the singular cell, that we would have needed to avoid my mother’s uncomfortable gendered environment. As my siblings belong in the cisgender category, they had an easier time with mom then I did.

I never understood gender roles. My mother was hell bent on making sure I knew her cults gender rules. I wanted to wear shorts, like my brother. She forced me in dresses and bought me entirely pink outfits. Pink jeans, pink shirt, pink shoes, pink snow pants, pink helmet etc. I did not understand this. Gender roles limited me and my experience.

As I was also “overweight” my mother bought me birthday clothes that were too small since I, apparently, always had a plan to lose weight. My sister loved my birthdays because she usually did fit in the clothes my mom bought me. My sister also enjoyed my make up kit that I got for Christmas every year.

I was starting to grow up now though. The excuse, “She’s just a cute tomboy.” Wasn’t working anymore as I was starting to grow and NOT grow out of this tomboy phase. As a teen it became harder to hide who I was and my mother told me that I should, maybe think, about going to college so that I can meet a boy.

After being raised by my mother I have deduced a few things. She didn’t teach me anything, and what I learned, I learned, rebelling against her.

Independence is the key to yourself.

Some fun stuff my mother taught me when I rebelled against her was eat cookies, and drink milk. Love your queer partner. Work hard. Defend your rights, and the rights of others. Be kind, not just nice. Check my ego. What gives me pride? What do I like to do for others that also affects me? Do I have the awareness of a kind mother or a nice mother? I have decided to stay away from cults. Cults are grounded in psychological manipulation. A cult virus is designed to infect the host and multiply. I decided I was not going to multiply. The teachings of my mother’s cult decided the relationship that we would have. None.

I don’t need a man to rely on. I have two degrees, a place to live, and a job. I control my gender and orientation.

Be your own mother and maybe you will become a good mother.

Rae Wright