Our Roots, What We Are Built On

Uncle Vaughn was handsome tall, funny, and loved me. My mother dated him before she decided to get married. In Trinidad we call men that are older than us uncles. She dated a few people but, he was the first person who sat down on the floor with me and colored with me. I could not have been older than four. And I remember every detail of that man. He was pure sunshine. My heart skipped when I saw him because I knew he would pick me up and spin me around. I knew he gave a s*** about me.

It takes a special friend to mold into the role of also being your children's future aunt. As life changes, friends come and go, but your best friend is there for you no matter what.

Me and my partner have been together eight months, but have known each other over two years now. We began dating, and have flown quite quickly into the love thing. His family is scattered all around the place, including his mother who lives right at the bottom of our country. But the woman has some issues.

As humans in this day and age, it is important to be brought up in a selfless, yet self-loving. Loyal, yet reasonable. Understanding, yet understandable and imaginative, yet realistic.

Ah yes... mother-in-laws. You either have a mother-in-law that loves you dearly, or a mother-in-law that hates your guts. There are even times when your mother-in-law hates you for no apparent reason. Even though you didn't particularly do anything wrong to cause your MIL to hate you, there are certainly reasons why she does. You probably didn't do anything wrong... you're just you. And that's what she doesn't like.

The way I see a family may be different to other people. I see a family as the people you can always call home, wherever you may be in the world. These people don't necessarily need to be blood-related to you. They can be your friends, a trusted colleague and for some people, a school teacher. These are the people who make you feel like you belong to something, the people who make you proud. I'm going to open up and share a story which recently happened to me.

My childhood was never normal. My dad was a construction worker and my mom was a CNA. They brought in enough income to keep our family afloat. I was the oldest of 3 children. I loved each of my parents, but I could always tell that the didn't really love each other. They fought 6 out of 7 nights of the week it seemed like. Not like arguing either. It was like full on fist fights. My mom always threw the first punch. Looking back on it now, it was definitely a stupid decision for a 125lb woman who was 5' 5''. Definitely something children should not be seeing. We all tried to protect our mother. I always thought my dad was in the wrong. After growing up, I now realize that he wasn't in the wrong as much as I thought.

If you come to one of my family parties (which is almost every weekend), you will be welcomed with open arms. Immediately, you will be by who ever's house it is, shake hands with everyone in the room, and be given a plate of whatever food we're having. Whether it's the usual: variety of tamales, variety of hominy soup, fried rolled tacos of potato/sausage/ricotta cheese or even more common: burgers, pizza, spaghetti, salads. Or tacos of cow head, tongue, eyes and intestines that sounds more delicious when said in Spanish. You may add cilantro, chopped onions, lime, avocado, salsa, sour cream. We would have margaritas with or without tequila, soda, water, Corona or Model beer.

I love my family, don’t get me wrong. I consider them to be one of the most important things in my life—maybe even the most important thing! My family has carried me through everything—my depression, my living situation, and even the times I’ve come out as gay. They have supported me through everything, BUT it does strike me how different everyone is in my family.

Getting Kicked Out: A story about how I got kicked out of my boyfriend's family and how life went downhill from there.