Being Raised by Gay Foster Parents Lower My Self-Esteem
Being raised by Gay parents made me feel bad about myself but also did something else that was good for me.
There are more than 420,000 children currently in the foster care system.
according to the analytics at The Crisis — For Others
- 90% of them will experience or have experienced trauma.
- 50% of them may reunite with their biological families.
- 25% will attempt suicide.
- 81% will be incarcerated.
- 71% of young women will be pregnant before their twenty-first birthday, with half of their children destined to be placed in the foster care system themselves.
- 40% will be homeless within 18 months.
- 97% of these young adults will immediately enter into chronic poverty.
As a young male living in a capitalist society, I believe it is safe to say that none of these statistics made me feel like the worthless piece of shit that most people would deem me to be.
And most days I really do feel like a piece of shit.
It’s not because I was a chronically homeless person, poor, or because I made a lot of effort to fend off suicidal thoughts. It was, however, the stigma associated with having gay parents, as well as living with my foster parents and the events that had taken place while I was in their custody.
I remember for the first time in fourth grade, a white kid comes up to me and a group of other kids and speaks.
“Hey guys, what do you call Shane’s parents phone when they talking to each other.”
“I don’t know, what?” the group of ignorant kids asked.
A homophone!
There were times, this kid would put stickers on my back without me knowing, saying, “Hey watch out for the fruit cup, it's pretty spoiled!”
I used to get so angry at my foster dad for picking me up from school, because when they see my parents, they would just laugh and chuckle amongst themselves.
And my adoptive parents would think it was cute, and I was making friends, but little did they know, they were just part of my humiliation, and I was being tortured at school.
I used to hate that shit!
I mean this kid would tease me for years and caused a train reaction of other people roasting me. He had a group of friends that would grab me, and stuff a banana wrapped in a used condom and shove it in my mouth. And chant loudly!
“Suck it fruit cup.”
Until this day I still feel like the fluids from that used condom is ingrained on my taste buds. There were times where people would say, “eww, stay away from me for failure rub off on me fucking fruit cup!”
And I was real sensitive about it! Especially when I was molested by a teenage boy who was also fostered by my parents. Which made me more sensitive to the situation. I feel less than a man!
COULD YOU REALLY BLAME ME HOW I FELT
I was introduced to homosexuality too young.
Feeling Like a piece of shit
I witness my foster parents have sexual intercourse at a young age. Rather by accident or overhearing them when I was trying to get rest from school.
Feeling more like a piece of shit
I adopted sexual behaviors too young, and I end up sexual confused.
But yet, still feel like a piece of shit.
I was sexually active by force by a teenage boy who was five years older than me.
Now feeling more confused, but still feeling like a piece of shit.
I remember I would tell them Important things to my foster parents. Things that meant the world to me. And I would go on talking, and they would say dumb shit like,
“I'm sorry Shane what did you say?”
I felt so voiceless.
I would tell them how other foster kids would treat me, and that the oldest would sexually violate me, and they would say.
“Grow up Shane, he would never hurt you, it's just kids being kids, you need to learn how to be less sensitive.”
I felt invisible.
I even told my parents about the bullying I was experiencing at school, where students treated me badly due to the fact that my parents are different from theirs. However, they did nothing about it. There were times when they gave me the impression that things would improve, but they ultimately remained unchanged.
I would have conversations with professionals at my school.
“Should I act like a fool at school.” I would say.
“You won't.” the professional says.
“What if I act like a jackass?” I spoke.
“You won't fool!”
At the time, the cafeteria lunch lady, especially her meatballs, were of absolutely no assistance to me. Eating her food and following her advice were identical.
It sucked!
It sad that the damn lunch lady can't help me!
I remained feeling like a piece of shit.
Having a low sense of self-worth result from early experiences that I had in school, and in the foster home. I develop unfavorable core beliefs about myself.
No one loves me.
I just a piece of shit
I'm nothing but an orphan.
The list went on as I remained being neglected and abused. I struggled to live up to their parents’ expectations, and I never fit in at school. Because I was the only one with gay parents. These negative connotations were deeply ingrained in my mental state.
Enough Is Enough
I felt out of place, like a guy using the restroom when another guy enters and uses the urinal next to you, even though there are plenty of other damn free urinals. Yes, strange and unseemly!
I got tired of feeling strange and unseemly. Since I wasn't getting any support from home, I had no friends, or no guidance. I did the only thing that I knew how to do.
REACT!
I became detached from reality and instead began to feel irate. I got to school, sat down at my desk, and slowly withdrew the brass knuckles that I had found in my parents’ room among the toys they often use for the enjoyment.
I put them on and go up to the kid who’s been terrorizing me all the time. and start beating him in the head, repeatedly.
BLOOD IS EVERYWHERE
I immediately went home after leaving the school and did the same thing to the 19-year-old boy who had sexually assaulted me for two years. and let go of my rage and suffering. The incident at the middle school I was attending was now reported to the authorities.
I had two more targets on my hit list who deserved my anger. I summoned the strength to leave and confront them in person. I got to the door, opened it, took a big breath, and drew out my bleeding brass knuckles. I was prepared to take drastic measures,
Surrender
I surrender to the local police station, and when they question me, they gave me a pen and paper and told me to write down all that happen. And at that moment of writing all my raw emotions and describing pain on paper. Everything I was looking for, rather it be for
Healing
Support
Guidance
Was all in the art of writing!
Writing became the most therapeutic thing that ever happened to me.
So if you was to asked me, do you blame your foster parents for being?
Abused by other foster kids.
Being Bullied
Neglected
Alienated
No, because I never would have discovered the true gift of writing, which I love to do, if it weren’t for the most uncomfortable things I encountered while in foster care. This article was made possible for me to write since it enables me to convey my deepest feelings.
So, I said that to say this!
Being raised by Gay foster parents lower my self-esteem as well lift me out of it.
Through the power of writing!
