I Was Told

I was told by society as a child I could be anything. That with enough effort, anything was achievable.

I was told by my parents that I would not succeed. That my effort and hard work would be wasted.

I was told by society I had the freedom to be what I wanted. That with my grades, I could succeed.

I was told by my parents that I was too stupid to even have a favorite color. That my sister was far smarter and would be the one destined for college.

I was told by my family that my time would be better spent being the help. That being a live-in nanny and handy person would be a better suited role for me.

I was told by society that I had a learning disability that given treatment would be manageable. That my attention was not focused and required special attention.

I was told by my parents that it was not true. That my attention deficit was caused by lack of effort and a need for discipline.

I was told by a coworker that I was brave. For shaving my head, before changing my name.

I was told by society that my preference and gender was wrong. That God does not make mistakes and that I should try to be normal.

I was told by my parents that I was not the child they wished or hoped for. That I was hatched from an egg and therefore unnatural.

I was told by my manager that I was legally accepted for who I am. That I could transition with full support. But was then designated to a lower position in the hopes of throwing me away.

I was told that I was not allowed to complain. That I should be grateful for the learning opportunity and promise of growth.

I was told by my supervisor that my anxiety was all in my head. That I was allowing little things to cling and was overreacting.

I was told by my manager that I was not cut out for a leadership role. That my attitude lacked confidence.

I was told by society that I was a predator for being what I am. That my mere presence in a bathroom was me living perversely.

I was told by my sister that I was a danger. That her kids were not allowed to interact with me when I started my transition.

I was told by my therapist that I should feel comfortable. That my mental state is not an illness.

I was told by my mother that she would never acknowledge my name. That it was not for me as this is not my reality.

We were told that we could be anything. But they are angry that we have chosen not to limit ourselves within their labels.

Humans tend to try to fit everything into boxes with labels. Anything outside those boxes tend to be shunned and discarded as defective and unwanted. Acceptance is conditional, requiring prerequisites to be met for the effort to be there.

I sit here, knowing that the world is harsh. I sit and dream of a place that does not exist, because that is an escape. I dream of a place where we could truly be anything we wanted. To have that society that truly does believe in the rhetoric of we could be anything we wanted. Or to show what we truly are without the persecution.

I sit here, fully knowing that I am being manipulated by both my sister and my mother, so they have an easier life, while I struggle to survive. I live in a house paid for by my job, wishing that my unwanted and ungrateful tenants would pay their share. Because I was told it would be different. This time it would work.