JERIMIAH
OKLAHOMA | SERIES # 4
Hi, my name is Jerimiah and I am 16. I am a gay non-binary. I came out to my mother first.She passed away in 2008 and I didn’t think I could ever get over it. But I did.
Years went by and, while living in apartments, I lived next door to this cute guy. He made me smile. I went over and everything, he asked me out, and I said yes. We started dating privately and I told him I did not want my father to know. Every Friday night my step dad took me and my sisters over to his house. My dad was a drunk, so he would be drinking his body weight, which meant no one would pay attention to us. They thought we were at the park checking out girls like some boys do, but we weren’t. We were in his bedroom. We talked, and things happened, and he eventually moved away with his mother.
One day I decided to come out, but to my dad’s friend first. I told him not to tell my dad, that I wanted to do it. But he outed me to my dad. When we picked him up, he looked back at me and gave me this glare. I knew that glare — he was going to beat me. When we got home he talked to me and asked if he should get a girl to see if was really gay. I told him no, and said why. I
told him I knew I was different than everyone else. He hated that was I gay and told my sister to
go to her room. He tried making me have sex with him, and when I said no, he hit me with his belt buckle and sent me to the back.
One day he hit and kicked me and called me the f bomb — you know the slur. He kicked me in my stomach and kept calling me a betty Crocker bitch because I liked to cook
and bake. He looked at me differently and abused me more than my sisters, so one day I
had enough of his shit. When he hit me, I hit him back, then stopped and packed all my stuff. He said, “Leave then.” But my sister stood up and said, “If he is going, I am going too.” At first he wouldn’t let her, but then he said, “Go with your punk, sissy ass, f bomb brother.”
We moved in with his friend and he took care of me. But one day I found out he was messing around with my sister. I went to school, reported him to my counselor, and said what he was doing.
My sister and I were lucky with adoption — we got to stay in one home. We were adopted by two men who changed life for me, and I am really grateful for them. I’m sorry I could never really open up to them. One of them died in the summer time right before starting my sophomore year. I remember crying because I had no one who cared about me the way he did. In every sense and he and my other dad were trying to make my dreams come true of becoming a famous singer.
In the beginning of my story I did not feel safe, but now I do. The purpose of my story is to tell everyone in the community that life is not perfect. There will be people to hurt you and love you in life. It is going to be one hell of a ride, so take it by the bars, because it’s your life. Do what you want to do. Life is too short, so all the big and small things in life are important. Just
remember that wherever you are, be who you are. And be tough, because this big world can be
Hell. But it can also be good to you.
