When We Cry Aloud

There is a stigma that follows African-American youth that seems to not be associated with any other demographic of children. It would seem that we breed our children to embrace and be willing to trauma and traumatic happenings. However, I would be remised in my duties as a mother and writer not to speak about the children of color whom identify as members of the LGBTQ community.

I am a married cis-gendered heterosexual woman. I cannot know or fathom what is like to be a part of a family whom would remove the basic social need from me for coming out as gay, lesbian or trans.

This was taken from GLAAD (the article is dated from 2014:

This study also looked at LGBT youth in an important and innovative way: the researchers considered the significance of intersectionality, or having multiple minority identities that operate together. As opposed to following suit with past studies that have lumped LGBT youth of color into one category, this study analyzed the unique intersections of race, sex, and LGBT identity.

The study found that compared with white LGBT youth, Latino and Native American/Pacific Islander LGBT youth had greater odds of attempting suicide. In particular, Latina LGBT girls had a significantly higher prevalence of suicide attempts in the year prior to being surveyed than any other racial category. On a similar note, Latino LGBT boys reported twice the amount of feeling sad in the last year than boys of other racial categories. On the flip side, black and Asian American LGBT youth fared better on a number of outcomes.

In collecting this type of information, you have to understand how necessary it is. Humanity does not end because people love who they love, or do things you don’t like.

There is a cord this type of suicide strikes in me. Life is precious and I have no right to supervise God’s love in the face of other people. I cannot imagine what it would take or would mean for a parent to no longer live you because of who you choose to love. As a parent, I cannot imagine what pain my child could be in where they believe death is the only viable option.

I am of the mindset that one reason which children of color kill themselves in the LGBTQIA community is the weight of feeling unloved and just wrong. Feeling that the people whom are supposed to love them the most and longest, snatch that away—and that hole is left to consume them. I cannot imagine.

Life is a dirty, unclean and beautiful set of years. A gift. That gift is extended to all who are walking this blue globe. It shouldn’t be snatched away because one doesn’t feel accepted by a biological family. I’m of the mindset of the psalmist:

When my mother and father forsake me, the Lord will take me up.

We are all wounded, beloveds. Sometimes those wounds are better hidden. That doesn’t mean they aren’t there, relevant or in need of treatment. Love is the most potent, cheapest cure I know.

Give it liberally. Some of those in this world may have a deeper well to fill.

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