"N" words and "F" words

For the people who grew up with me that I hurt with my actions and words, I'm sorry.

For those who didn't notice my racism and homophobia and other bigoted beliefs.... well, it's because you're still racist. This post isn't for you- it's for those whom I've hurt or treated differently because of their skin color, their hair, body styles and even sexuality. And it's for me to be able to show improvement.

Growing up in western MD can breed some hateful people, I'm not proud to say I was one of them. These beliefs and actions started at home where my parents were; they still are the most racist around other (presumably) white people.

It now hurts my ears, heart and soul to be around such nasty belief systems. When you were born doesn't mean shit to me now. "They grew up in a different time..." is not an excuse. You're an adult, you have the ability to know right from wrong, you have the ability to educate yourself- you have the ability to change.

Her skin is fucking GLOWING! Yes I googled beautiful models!

How did this start? From home, of course. I literally didn't even look or talk to black people. Why? Because I was afraid. What was I afraid of? Saying something racist, on accident. My parents were the ones who locked the car doors when driving down town or stopped at a traffic light, when black people walked by. (this was before cars did that themselves once put in drive) I was the person who whispered the words "black people" under my breath if there may have been black people around me. As if 'shameful to say it or as if I was gossiping. What I was saying may not have seemed wrong, but it probably was because I felt the need to say it in hushed tones. Their skin color is fucking gorgeous, even if I was fed to fear and treat it differently. Luckily, I outgrew that nasty shit and am still working on it. I literately, grew into a new person.

Richard Snyder, my ninth grade history teacher, was the most racist man in my high school I knew. He was leader of the history club and sold nasty dagwood sandwiches. People joined this group for the to trips to New York City. Something a small poor public school filled of country farmers, found rather amazing! There definitely was no diversity at Clear Spring, I only recall two black people ever being in my school at one time. Everyone in Mr. Snyder's class knew if you asked the right questions you'd get him lost in telling stories and wouldn't even have a class. As long as you didn't talk in his class, all was well. I remember him telling his opinions of history and how he was raised. He would whisper the words "black people" with one hand to the side of his mouth as if it was a secret or something he shouldn't be saying. He told us the story of his first day at school when his mother asked if one of those "coloured kids" smelled. He said he never noticed anything different about them, but went along with his mother's story for the sake of appeasing her. I remember feeling rather icky in his classes, not sure what to think. That was history right? Full of heros' stories. Well if the hero's were racist, and they were, I hated it. And I certainly wasn't fond of Richard Snyder either. Royal Dick if you ask me....

Look how beautiful she is!

Christmas dinner at my moms house was a breading ground for "whose n*gger joke was best". My step brother, and my mothers husband took part in sharing their funniest Googled jokes or things they've put to memory, while I stared at my mashed potatoes with a sick feeling in my stomach. I didn't laugh. They noticed, and would say something about how I'm taking away from the fun. I looked at my brother one year, after knowing his battle buddy in the army was black. He didn't laugh that year either. He even tried changing the topic with a different, actually funny, joke.

That was the first year I thought to myself it might be better just not to come back the following year. The home cooked family recipes were tradition, but it wasn't worth it. I now, no longer attend those heinous events.

I remember sitting with my grandfather in his truck on the way home from grocery shopping. He was mad about not being given the correct change at the local grocery store. His words: "that n*gger didn't give me my nickle." My grandmother, his wife referred to "Brazil nuts" as "n*igger toes". I was 12 and in middle school when I learned that those passed down words for a tree nut are totally wrong and offensive. All three sets of my grandparents, and parents are racists.

When I was a freshman in High School I recall being a total bigoted asshole when I was asked if there were black people who attend my church. I said "There are all sorts of coloured people in my congregation." One of the only three black students in my entire school over heard what I said and replied "colored? We aren't fucking crayons!" My excuse was that I was referring to many ethnic backgrounds and was trying to be more inclusive to those who were Philippino, Japanese, etc. However, I was still far out of bounds. It was such a difficult time for me. I was such a terrible person then, And I didn't even realize it most of the time, I was in familiar company.

I recall a moment where a good friend at the time whose name was Ryan, came over to my locker for a chat. I had heard rumors of him being gay. He knew I was Mormon and thought that being gay was "wrong". So I asked him, right on the spot as I grabbed my books for my next class, "This is difficult for me to ask, but are you gay? I keep hearing rumors." He replied flatly "No." I hadn't paid attention to his body language or inflection, all I heard was the one word I was hoping to hear, and what I said next hurts me to repeat. I breathed a sigh of relief and I said "Good!" And I went off to class, not thinking much of it again... until my beliefs were challenged. . . Until I found out he was.

I recall coming out of an old sandwich shop that has since been closed down, called Freddies. My grandparents (dad's mom and step dad) would take us there often. It was fall, because I remember it was dark outside and we had gone for dinner. Dinner may have been later than usual, but I was a pre-teen/teen and wasn't out late by any means. We had noticed some weird activity while we were sitting down eating dinner. A few men had gone in the bathroom, stayed for a long period of time and then left soaking wet, and had changed into different clothing, one after another. They appeared to be bathing in the sink. We noticed because all of us had to use the bathroom and they had been in there for over 10 minutes. So we left. I was sitting in the back of their vehicle when we noticed at the end of the mini mall building, these people had rugs and were kneeling and raising their hands and heads up and down in prayer. They were facing in a specific direction, no doubt Muslim. I didn't know what a muslim was then. My grandparents used words like "terrorist" and "up to no good", "suicide bombers" and "we should call the police". Honestly I was freaked out. I didn't know what to think at the time, and they definitely instilled fear that wasn't necessary. Obviously these peopled lacked western culture manners to not bathe in public restrooms, but they had done nothing wrong. Police came out, and I assume everything was alright, but we had gone home. I still had to go pee after all....

Just another racist childhood memory.

Over Labor Day my dad had one of his old High school friends that he has stayed in touch with over for steaks on the grill. We had sat down for dinner when my dad mentioned his summer plans for the next few weeks, which involved a family reunion. Mike Heavener, his friend, promptly questioned "You got a lot of n*ggers in your family now?"

I almost spit my drink out, I did not even want to look that man in the face, so I stared at my dad with eyes that said "DO WE?!" His reply came with a pause that met my glare..

"We have a few black people in our family."

Mike continued "bet they are from Baltimore, they all keep coming up here breeding." Sipping his beer.

My dad corrected him this time "They are actually local."

I grabbed my plate and things and went inside, I was done with that bullshit.

Just recently I had a heated discussion with my dad about Hallmark having a gay Jesus. I hadn't even heard of it or knew what was going on. He was wrong, on many accounts, though; it was Netflix. Hallmark had two women kissing in an aired commercial, though. Nonetheless, he said "they need to read the Bible again, Hallmark has lost its way." I took a deep breath and used what little resource I had left with my dad's warped Mormon views. So I said "I've not heard of this gay Jesus, however the Mormon church teaches that it is not a sin to have same sex attraction, but it is if you act on those desires. There was no evidence Jesus didn't have same sex attraction or sexual encounters, we obviously can only assume. It sounds more like a pardoy."

I'm 100% aware of this shit rebuttle of mine, but it's all I had. His reply, to my surprise, was that "there is something 'wrong' with people who are LGBT or whatever...." and "You can't be gay if you haven't been with the same sex."

I was confused because I remember being a teenager and being attracted to men only. I was heterosexual despite not having sex with any men. My dad did not agree, and said

"same sex attraction is not normal, therefore no one who has these feelings are gay until they have sex." He continued with the usual crap that "they can't keep the first and great commandment of being fruitful and multiply."

My face was hot with sadness and anger and I mentioned something about not being educated on these matters even in his own acclaimed faith. His last defense about it before he checked out of the conversation and stopped listening to me was that "they should go kill themselves, and he didn't care if bad things happen to them. Now that it's legal to marry each other, they can't reproduce and make others gay." I didn't know whether or not to cry or laugh at his willful state of ignorance. But I recall a time where I felt most of his emotions. I'm grateful to say I never wished death on those different than me, unlike my dad. Though, there was a time in my life I wished death on my dad. Teenage life was hard. My dad isn't good with words. He has a terrible temper and most of his views were that surprising to me, minus the logic that you aren't gay if you've never had gay sex. Major mind fuck there bro.

Oh yeah, that was me. I thought I was being witty repeating what I heard my aunt say once. Trust me, I'm not that witty on my own. But that's me, typos and all.

There was a time I was in active pursuit to keep these feelings and emotions going via Facebook posts, friends, and church meetings, and conversations with others who carried these same, shameful characteristics. Reading my old memories of status updates that I typed saying "God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." Is completely mind blowing to me. What the actual fuck Kirsten?!

I no longer hide behind trash views of why black people couldn't go to the Mormon temple until 1978 and the racism that organization continues to stands on.

I'm happy to share that Utah, home of almost 2 million Mormons, has officially ban conversion therapy for LGBTQ+ people as of this month! Yes, January 2020, it's only the 19th state to do it, and it took how long?!

My change process seemed slow. I knew I didn't want to be this way or have these thoughts and actions. At the time I still believed in Jesus, who isn't white by the way, I knew he wouldn't treat people differently for their sexuality or race. I knew I had to change. But how? I immersed myself into learning about others culture, made myself look for attractive qualities in people I was predisposed to not even look at, or talk to. I asked questions and told people I was trying to better while I asked them. I focused on loving people. I no longer talked about people under my breath. I decided to compliment people on who they were. I took ownership of my actions and words, despite them being taught from low and uneducated people.

I am proud to say I have shed so many layers I hardly recognize the person I once was.

I'm proud to say I stick up for what I believe is right, because I love myself and others.

I'm proud to share I have experienced deep love and human connection my toxic family was never and would never be able to give me.

I'm proud to say healing is possible. And education sets you free!

Special thanks to my editor: MC_hammer