Raised by Unicorns by Frank Lowe

Author:Frank Lowe [Lowe, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2018-05-11T04:00:00+00:00

LEARNING TO LOTE

MARY HOLLAND, age 27

ON OCTOBER 28, 1992, my life changed forever. I was almost three at the time, and had been shuffled from foster home to foster home with my two biological sisters since before I could remember. I don’t recall much about those early dwellings now, but I do know that the family home I entered on that date was the most impactful one of my life. For the next two and a half years, I would learn how to love and become part of a functioning family.

On June 12, 1995, I was five-and-a-half when a judge told me that the two women who’d been raising me were now my legal guardians. Their names are Linda and Kathy—though I would only ever call Linda my mom. Kathy always insisted on being called Kathy. For the longest time, I wondered why and even to this day, twenty-two years later, I still am not sure of the reason behind it.

So began my life as the “child of dykes,” as the kids in my school would later call it. I grew up in small-town Kansas, smack-dab in the middle of Bible Belt, USA. I knew from an early age I was different, but I didn’t know how or why. My family was all I had ever known so I didn’t think anything about it was unusual. However, I surmised early on that something was up because I never got invited over to classmates’ houses to play. I never made any actual friends at all. The only person I spent time with outside of my sisters was this girl whose mom worked with mine. Her name was Kelsey and she was nice, but we never really stayed that close. As I got older I realized that our only reason for being “friends” was because our moms made it happen.

This led me to having a very lonely childhood. I delved deeply into books and writing. It gave me comfort knowing that in the books that lined my walls, I could escape into worlds where I could be anything I wanted to be. In these worlds, I wasn’t lonely, because I was never alone when I had my books. The most precious to me was the Harry Potter series. J.K. Rowling created a universe where I felt included, a part of something enormous and majestic. I considered that group of characters my friends, and I could turn to them to find warmth when I desperately needed it. Her words spoke to me more deeply than anyone in my reality ever has. I attribute a lot of who I am now to those books that guided me through my toughest years.

My mom and Kathy tried their best to make me feel worthy and deserving of love. For the most part, I believed them, but there was an underlying problem that persists to this day. Kathy was always cruel in her jokes—especially towards me. I never mentioned this to Mom because I feared her reaction to it would be the same as Kathy’s whenever I’d ask her to stop.

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