An Open Letter to my Parents

Dear Parents,

I really wanted you to like him. I suppose I had some idealistic childish dream in my head that I would tell you about him and that, soon after that, you'd be at least civil and respectful, and possibly, even happy for me - although I knew deep down the latter was a bit of a stretch. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if you met him in a situation somewhat under my control, you'd see beyond his age and career (and maybe race, but thank god you had the good sense not to speak of that), all things of which I have no concern but things of which I know you do have many. I wanted to consider your feelings, your opinions. I thought I could mediate some sort of agreement of mutual respect, recognition that I am an adult and I can make my own decisions. I thought I was prepared, but I was not. I thought I was an adult, but now realize that I wasn't.

I thought so many things. I was so unprepared. I was too young.

How was I too young? Two weeks ago, I did not realize how little respect my parents had for me. I did not realize how so carefully measured my words had to be around you, how little we have in common besides genetic composition. Two weeks ago, I did not realize that you, my parents, are yourself children and that you both do not value honesty. Is it not senseless to advocate honesty when you can never handle the truth? Isn't it pointless to advocate truth when I see so many secrets festering constantly within my own family?

How was I too young? I suppose I held a view of you two in my head that was so wrong, placed you on a pedestal that you were never meant to be on. My mind was non-comprehending, as if surgically removed from my own conscious, as it listened to you "demand that I break up" with my boyfriend. My brain did not understand how you could possibly ask a human being to "choose" between one's boyfriend and one's mother. Your questions and words were so beyond childish and selfish that my brain and I at first did not even recognize to whom we were talking. I came to realize immediately that you were wrong. You have absolutely no right to ask such things, and only a child would demand such things.

Oh, how was I too young? I was too young because I believed in reason and in my parents' ability to use reason. My mind did not realize how antiquated your values were - to hear of how my worth was tied to my virginity floored me. It seems we do not live in the same century and perhaps a liberal education has led me to place my "worth" on different things. I thought that we could discuss this situation, I thought this situation was up for discussion, silly me. I now realize that I was too young because I never should have included you in this matter in the first place. This topic is not up for debate at all.

Because of you, I am now older than I have ever felt in my life, more filled with ulcers than I ever have been before. You called me a liar, say that I "must have known it was 'not proper' (because you're so afraid of the word wrong), since I didn't tell you for so many years. Why is it so difficult for you to see that this relationship has nothing to do with you?

You said during our last meeting that "you were not convinced."  I'm not trying to convince you of anything, not anymore. I've realized that I do not need approval from people who are ashamed of the decisions I make. I certainly don't need to ask advice from people who clearly care more about ancient familial traditions than their own daughter's happiness. And while I would certainly like you to be on my side, I now realize that you never will be, and you will certainly never ever come close to accepting him.

I'm sorry, but I do think it's time for me to move on. Our relationship is irreparably damaged. Perhaps I will meet with, in your adult form, some years later on, but I'm not going to hold my breath waiting.

Apologies,

Kelly