#I hope y'all like pet fish because when I have a proper house I'm going to have fish tanks for bettas *everywhere*

[adhd-mode-activate]

I pray that all of y'all are able to experience the gift that is teachable parents.

I grew up in a conversative Christian family (in my immediate family, I mean conversative in the religious sense. In my extended family, there are political conversative, but my parents strongly disagree with them). For years what I knew of the LGBTQ community was my aunt and her wife (who are quite frankly awful people; smol me assumed any gay person I met would hate me because I was a Christian) and what I googled at 2 AM

I didn't realize I was demi until I was 18 and went on a deep dive research hole in my dorm. I was scared to say anything to anyone. I assumed I'd be an outcast in the culture I grew up in, but I also didn't think anyone else would accept me.

I don't really know how it happened, but four years later I've got some of the coolest friends ever. One of my best friends thinks I'm crazy for the labels I collect like the human personification of a crow (which is where one of my nicknames comes from), but she loves me anyway. The other thinks I'm crazy for my faith, but she doesn't hate me for it. Instead, she asks me questions that I love to answer. I'm a demiromantic/biromantic asexual who's 90% sure that she's a girl about...60% of the time (gender is confusing, y'all), and I'm comfortable with that

And my parents? Well, it took three attempts at describing demisexuality to my mom for her to "get" it. She didn't understand how it was different from "normal" (mom, I've heard you talk about how you fell in love with my dad, and the one other person you dated before that, and how you couldn't imagine dating someone you weren't friends with first. There might be a reason you thought being demi was normal). But the thing is? After initially saying that she didn't understand, she was the one to come back and say "I've been thinking about it, and I realized I didn't handle that well. Could you explain again?" It took a while for me to come out to my parents. Little by little, testing the waters because of my irrational fears of disappointing them. They're not disappointed. My mom doesn't agree with me on everything, but she trusts me. If she has a question about anything related to attraction or gender identity or mental health, she asks me, because she trusts that even if we end up disagreeing, she'll learn something. My dad is a man of few words, but he will not hesitate to call out what he thinks is wrong. So the fact that he listens when I pace the room, verbally tearing apart an argument against trans rights, means a lot. Not only does he listen, he helps me strengthen my arguments. Any time I find a new fight, he gives me the resources and the weapons to wield it. He's a historian and a good one. When I am grieved and angry and bitter at the wrongs I see hidden behind the name of Christianity, he shows me history and where it's happened before and how it was righted. And then tells me to go. Keep making friends, keep putting my anger to good use, keep loving as deeply as I do. because if no one is angered by injustices they are never righted

My parents are still conversative Christians. They understand that I make decisions they never could. They know I will challenge them on things they never would have thought about, go places they never could, interact with people they never will interact with. But they're willing to learn from me. They're willing to trust me, willing to disagree with me without breaking the relationship. They're willing to be a safe space for any friend who is not safe in their own home for whatever reason. I pray that all of y'all will have parents like that, who even if they don't agree with you on everything, trust you (which I think is a healthy thing, each generation should grow and learn from the previous one and be willing to challenge things their predecessors wouldn't without losing the good already done)

And, if you don't think that's possible, you can have mine. Considering the fact that my mom was giddy when I told her I'd adopted a couple of my younger friends, and nearly cried with happiness when I told her that of course they could be her grandkids, she'll love you. My dad will be glad to show you one of his special interests (history, theology, cooking, or the potato cannon he and my brother built out of PVC pipe in the back yard are good starts if you're curious what special interests he might have). My mom will lavish you with all the affection you could ever want and then some. My dad will make you laugh when your emotions threaten to drown you.

If you don't have a home, I offer mine. Welcome home.