December 2011
53 posts
“I believe in understanding. I believe in love. And I believe in my brother.
Growing up as an older sibling, you tease your youngers, you bully them, but you know that it is a job meant for you alone. You are your baby brother’s protector. It is your job to keep him out of harm’s way, your job to keep him safe. And there’s no scarier realty then when you know you can’t.
As children my brother and I used to play dress-up. I loved being the wizard, the racecar driver with my Hotwheels, and he loved my firetruck red Ariel wig, my Swan Princess dress, and I never noticed the difference. He liked what he liked, and what was wrong with that. He was my brother, and I accepted him.
There is no wrong until it is taught to you. I learned that it was “wrong” for my brother to be in my dance company, “wrong” for him to be sensitive; people were telling me my brother was “wrong”.
My baby brother is gay.
But he is not just gay. My brother wants to be a therapist, he’s an amazing tap dancer, his favorite animals are pigs and his favorite food is bacon, he’s always wanted to go to Alaska, he wears glasses, he’s in a fraternity, he looks like me, he’s human.
He loves, does it matter who he loves?
He loves his mother, he loves his father, he loves me, he loves his friends. He even loves those who do not understand. He is patient. He withstands the names, the “that’s so gay”s, the stereotypes, and the violence, but he will always be him, and he will always be gay.
His love cannot be shouted out of him, and cannot be beat out of him, his love cannot be oppressed by law, and yet we try.
If all is fair in love and war then all is still fair in love.
My baby brother has been hurt by those who do not understand, those who have not yet learned to love. And I can’t protect him. He’s my baby brother, it’s my job to keep him safe and I can’t.
My brother is gay, and I love my brother. He has lost friends, he has lost understanding, but he will never lose me. And this I believe.” —
Growing up as an older sibling, you tease your youngers, you bully them, but you know that it is a job meant for you alone. You are your baby brother’s protector. It is your job to keep him out of harm’s way, your job to keep him safe. And there’s no scarier realty then when you know you can’t.
As children my brother and I used to play dress-up. I loved being the wizard, the racecar driver with my Hotwheels, and he loved my firetruck red Ariel wig, my Swan Princess dress, and I never noticed the difference. He liked what he liked, and what was wrong with that. He was my brother, and I accepted him.
There is no wrong until it is taught to you. I learned that it was “wrong” for my brother to be in my dance company, “wrong” for him to be sensitive; people were telling me my brother was “wrong”.
My baby brother is gay.
But he is not just gay. My brother wants to be a therapist, he’s an amazing tap dancer, his favorite animals are pigs and his favorite food is bacon, he’s always wanted to go to Alaska, he wears glasses, he’s in a fraternity, he looks like me, he’s human.
He loves, does it matter who he loves?
He loves his mother, he loves his father, he loves me, he loves his friends. He even loves those who do not understand. He is patient. He withstands the names, the “that’s so gay”s, the stereotypes, and the violence, but he will always be him, and he will always be gay.
His love cannot be shouted out of him, and cannot be beat out of him, his love cannot be oppressed by law, and yet we try.
If all is fair in love and war then all is still fair in love.
My baby brother has been hurt by those who do not understand, those who have not yet learned to love. And I can’t protect him. He’s my baby brother, it’s my job to keep him safe and I can’t.
My brother is gay, and I love my brother. He has lost friends, he has lost understanding, but he will never lose me. And this I believe.” —
My sister wrote this about me for one of her classes (via rileytm)
Crying.
