I never really liked my parents. We butted heads on everything from
political to religious beliefs. I consider myself an atheist and very
liberal and I am also unapologetically gay.
My parents are rather conservative Muslims and are also extremely
homophobic. I never was really public about my disagreements with them because
I still wanted a roof over my head food on the table and money in my pocket.
Because of that I was able to forge a good but very artificial relationship
with my parents. They saw me as practically perfect a good and trusting
kid. Both of my parents had very noticeable flaws however. My mom liked to
hold grudges, was quick to judge, and loved to enforce gender roles.
My mom adamantly believed that boys were supposed to do yard work and take out
the trash. And that girls only belong to the kitchen and were predestined to
become subservient Muslim housewives . My father was so invested in his work that
he neglected to form any bonds with his children. They were constantly belittled
my four sisters by not allowing them to have friends outside of school, have
phones, participate in extracurricular activities, nor drive when they reach the
legal age of 16. And then there's me...a couple years ago, I tried coming out to
them, not once but twice. The first time they begged me to date girls because
they took my coming out as a threat. The second time and proceeded to fire a
barrage of insults and false homophobic stereotypes about gay people ranging
from their being mentally ill to calling it a phaser choice. The threatened to
completely disowned me and assured that I won't succeed in life if I didn't quote
unquote "fix myself." A fog of depression consumed me...I can only see myself being
forever indebted to my parents. So I had to continue the facade of the straight
Muslim boy in the house. I didn't think much of it at the time, but after telling
my friends that convinced me I was in a nearly abusive relationship with my
family and I had to get far away from them to live my life and discover my
full potential. It was at this moment that I took a much harsher stance
against my parents. Seeing them as my prison wardens instead of my loved ones.
So I thought where was the farthest I could get without them having a harsh
impact on me well I could still be successful and thrive as a young gay...?
After doing some research, I could finally
conclude that California would be the best place for me; a thriving LGBTQ
community lots of racial diversity and acceptance and on the complete opposite
side of the country. So I applied to a few schools there in hopes I would get
accepted and sure enough I did get into one of them UCLA. It truly was one of the
greatest moments of my life. I felt like a livable future was finally plausible.
My parents are hesitant at first because of the distance but happy to have me go
because they trusted I could succeed at a highly acclaimed school in Los Angeles.
After moving there I have never been happier to be part of a diverse
community with amazing friends support and education. Although I have to come
home every now and then to keep up my fake relationship, I am so relieved to be
so strongly associated from that sinkhole I once called home.
My next hope is that my sister's see and believe the truth about my parents and
follow my footsteps and escape so that they could live happy lives too.