My dad and I got into an argument just now, but that’s okay, because got the last word. The slap that came hard across my face was SO WORTH IT. I mean, my cheek is still sore and throbbing, but that’s okay! I won! I won the argument!
I was offended by the way he called one of our church mates a fag behind his back without having enough evidence. I mean, even if he did have enough evidence, it was still demeaning and offensive. He’s not a part of the LGBTQ community and he’s not close to the said church mate-maybe even if he were close to him-so it’s not acceptable to me. I am bi and I felt so insulted for my church mate.
I have been a victim of discrimination and humiliation as well, being called ‘fatso’, ‘she-pig’ and ‘hippo-bitch’ behind my back, so I felt so much for him, who was not there and whose individuality and existence by the epithet that my dad has identified with him.
My dad has all this shit about respecting other people, especially your parents; but how could you come to respect someone who doesn’t know how to respect the people around him? He’s a hypocrite, isn’t he?
For once in sixteen (almost seventeen) years, I have stood up to my father and WON. It feels so damn great to finally bring down the monster of the house. I feel SO PROUD of myself.
This is a milestone for me.
I am glad I was able to share it with you. :)