I wrote in the introduction that we might say some things that could shock or offend some people, so don't get mad at me if that happens.
As a group we have many secrets, and being gay is the common thread we share. I have secrets too, but these are kept in a more secure place.
I'll just say it: I'm half Black, but you'd never know it looking at me. Not half African-American (I don't know anyone in Africa, sorry). Not half n-word either (I fucking hate that word even more, and yes I've been called it!). Caramel Baby? Yeah, I heard people say that one. Like I wrote before, all this race shit doesn't really matter to us.
I've been living with my grandma for as long as I can remember, but she's not the bake cookies and talk about the 1950's type of grandma. She had my mom as a teen, and my mom continued the tradition. People always think she's my mom when they see us out together, and I think she takes that as a compliment.
What I know is my mom and her best friend/boyfriend had a really bad fight and to get back at him she went to a rough part of the city with a friend of hers to "have some fun". She met a guy, got knocked up and made up to my dad. She knew she was pregnant and hid it until she couldn't anymore, and when I was born my parents decided not to get married until after he finished college.
Truth is my "dad" couldn't have knocked my mom or any woman up, and the tests they did proved it. My "real" father told my mom that I was her problem and wouldn't have anything to do with me. Is anyone here surprised by that?
My grandma disowned my mom, and my grandma took me in to keep me out of foster care, which is where I would have ended up. Mom got into drugs and sleeping around with whatever guy came around, and one day grandma got a call to go to the hospital as quickly as she could. Mom was dead before she got there.
I don't want to tell much about what happened to her but the man who's responsible for her death is my real father. One day he'll leave prison in a box.
I fucking hate him!
My grandma and I never talk about "him", he doesn't even have a name other than "asshole", and I'm okay with that. That waste of oxygen doesn't even deserve a name.
The only people in my life that know I'm half Black are my grandma and godfather (I wish he was my dad everyday!) and the members of The Reject Club. We don't keep secrets from each other, and I think that's why we're such close friends.
Oh, I forgot…now YOU know my secret.
I'll write more about being biracial and gay in the future, but for now I need to stop. And maybe I was wrong, maybe your race does matter?