July 19th, 1997
The life of a black man was mine up until my 25th birthday, when it ended in a way that I’d like to never experience again. Throughout most of my time as a black person I had to deal with some discrimination here and there, but never anything that people railed and rallied against so often. My family worked hard and did the best they could, but things do tend to happen. I remember the pain of being struck by a truck as it smashed into my hips, forcing me to double over as I was then flung bodily through a windshield as a piece glass sliced my throat open before I then collided with a bone-crunching thud into the backseat of the offending truck.
After that I didn’t feel much, but I do recall waking up a while later and being in another body. It wasn’t until my eyes opened wide that I saw two Asian people looking back at me, both smiling as my mother looked absolutely exhausted.
That was the second life. From that point I’ve been dark-skinned, light-skinned, been born to straight parents, been adopted by gay parents, and even been raised as something called a non-binary family, which was ultimately quite confusing. No one wanted to admit to their gender, and when I decided that I would be a girl, which biologically I was, which was a kind of shock that I got used to, it forced my family to actually disown me. That was a bit painful, but in the end it turned out just fine since after parting from them I met another family that was was happy to have me and adopted me into their fold without any trouble at all.
My original family in that instance came looking for me, claiming that the family had no legal right to me. But what they didn’t realize was that the emancipation I’d gained, with their approval no less after disowning me, made it perfectly legal. At age 15 I left my family that time, and by age 17 I’d found a new one that didn’t mind and weren’t into denying the biological fact that we’re born into one gender or another. It might seem insensitive to say this, but science is not a myth, it’s a fact, and no matter what gender you want to pretend you are the fact remains that you’ll always be, at the genetic level, the same gender that you were born.
As of now that family is still trying to reconnect with me, especially given that I’ve become something of a bestselling author and have made my adopted family quite happy. Is it wrong that I told my former family to just screw off? Maybe, but it was satisfying too.
(to be continued)