You don’t know that my baby cousin is going to be deaf within a short period of time.
So maybe you should stop making fun of people who use American Sign Language.

You don’t know that one of my best friends was molested.
So maybe you should stop making rape jokes and telling me I’m molesting you when all I did was tap your shoulder.

You don’t know that my gymnastics coach, also my inspiration, has breast cancer.
So maybe you should stop pretending that you wear those “I love boobies” bracelets just to promote breast cancer awareness.

You don’t know that my 6-year old cousin is physically hurt by my aunt and uncle on a daily basis.
So maybe you should stop yelling at me to stop exaggerating when I inform you that his school picture featured a black eye.

You don’t know that my adult confidante is lesbian.
So maybe you should stop saying “That’s so gay” all the time because I’m pretty sure that inanimate objects do not have a sexuality.

You don’t know that my teenage cousin is clinically depressed.
So maybe you should stop claiming that you’re depressed simply because you received a poor grade on the last exam.

You don’t know that my dream to be a dancer is not much appreciated by my parents who want me to be an orthodontist.
So maybe you should stop telling me that dance is stupid and it’s merely a hobby.

You don’t know anything.
You don’t know me.
You don’t know anything about me.
You don’t know.