From the moment I could talk I was confused. I think for a lot of my youth I was labeled a weird outsider. I always made friends with the best looking girls, unaware that it was because I had a little crush on them. I had four serious best guy friends, all I ended at least kissing. Do not tell me guys and girls can be just friends, because even as a lesbian I always ended up like practically loving my guy best friend because our guards were down. Growing up I found out I was lesbian, or bisexual, or whatever. I remember this guy I dated was so mad about it, and I remember his opinion really not mattering to me because he had swallowed a nail before. Literally. He told me that “if I’ve never had sex with a guy then there’s no way I know if I’m gay or not.” I mean really, he said that. I now realize that that was him wanting to have sex with me, (plot twist, because at this point I really looked like a guy). So that was later on, but before then, I had this boyfriend with a weird name, but looked at as a handsome name in the African community. Anyway, this guy burned me a chingy mix cd. I will always remember that for some reason. I used to be so less fearful of things, and I would ride bikes to meet him. The thing was, I’d be in my room listening to Chris Brown because this girl that I thought I loved, loved Chris Brown. I was all sorts of confused.

Enough for now about my love life. I don’t think I’ve told anyone that when I was younger, a little before I met my father, I would hang out with my neighbor and he was a DJ- so I got to scratch records. A few months after that I remember my mom acting really weird one morning. I remember the couch was facing east with a white cover on it at the time. (This was during my mother’s overly neat freak fase). Anyway, I was sitting on this couch and all of a sudden this tall black guy walks in with a do-rag on. I had no idea who the hell this guy was. Instantly my mom and this strange man walked into the back room, and then my mom came out and she told me that this man was my father. (I had never met him, ever. Like, this happened in about two seconds as far as I can remember)...He said “Hey baby.” And then we proceeded to go and play some basketball at my elementary school.

Later on, I met this girl who I swear was even more amazing than the first. This girl was my best friend, and I specifically remember riding in the car with her and her mom listening to 50 cent. I was like 10 years old. Then we went to Taco Bell, and I stuffed my face. Anyway, I just wanted to talk about listening to 50 cent at 10 years old. So. I actually got way ahead of the story. I feel like Ted from HIMYM, this is hard. So, before all of that, my dad disappeared again, then he would come back. Then, get this- I found out I had a sister. He wanted me to meet her, and so when I did we both looked at each other mad as hell and accused each other of not being sisters with one another. Then after about ten minutes of fighting we decided to play basketball and everything was good. To this day we are still basically best friends, but there is a bit of a story there. I’ll explain all of that later.

Luckily, when my father left again, I still had my neighbor. I have never told anyone else this because I think it might actually be the coolest and most embarrassing thing ever in my entire life. So this neighbor was a DJ right? And he rapped, had like a home studio and junk, I wanted to rap. I made a legit rap cd, I think that’s when I really started writing. This cd had 12 tracks on it, and all was written and mixed together by me. That would be the cool part, I made a mix cd when I was just a youngin’. The most embarrassing part comes now. There were a few tracks on there that were written for a few different girls and people, so I gave them the cd’s. Like I wrote songs about a few girls I liked but didn’t realize I liked them, and I gave them the cd’s. I wish I had that confidence now, but unfortunately because of dumb decisions like that, I would rather not be rejected. I still have a copy of the cd. No, you cannot hear it.

So I started writing at a really young age, and I wasn’t half bad. Then I started writing poetry I think around the same time my dad died. Which unfortunately was a few years after really getting to know him. That really messed me up, I’m actually still really messed up. I’m completely guarded because my family didn’t really talk about it. They don’t really talk about anything. It’s always don’t look, it’s not there. That drives me crazy. I feel like I can never talk about things, and as a result I am so emotionally unavailable. I have recently drifted to opinionated writing, and I think that has something to do with my family always believing that they are right, and I know I’m part of the family so what makes me different? I bottle up my opinions. So now when I do an opinionated writing piece it all just spills the f*** out. A raw badass voice, and I didn’t even realize that it’s because of my family, and not feeling like I’m allowed to have an opinion. But, that’s what has inspired me to write this whole thing now, I have jumped so far into the story.

I’m so tired of the generic lesbian questions. Have you ever had a boyfriend? When did you know you were gay? Have you ever liked a straight girl? How do girls have sex? Have you ever had sex with a guy? Stop. Please. At this point it is painful to be asked those questions, really. (more later)