“Gay is when there are two boys or two girls and they like each other like boys and girls like each other.”
“Ohhhhh…” It took a minute for me to understand. “I thought it meant happy?”
“You understand what I’m saying, right? It could mean happy, too, but those kids weren’t calling you happy.” My Mom turned to go back into the kitchen.
“Are we supposed to hate gay people?” I asked because the voices I’d heard pointed, accused, poked and pinched.
She turned to face me again from the doorway. “Rhonda, what if your brother were gay, would you hate him?”
My mother knew I adored my big brother and would follow him around as long as he would let me.
“No, Mom, I love… I mean, why would I hate my brother for that?”
“Every person is your brother. Every person.”
She went back into the kitchen and I went to my room to do homework.