(I have recently moved home with my parents, as houses and apartments are super expensive where I live, and my parents have multiple empty rooms. I did live at a college dorm, but after I graduated that was no longer an option. My girlfriend of a year and a few weeks comes over to help me move in.)

Mom: “Who’s your friend?”

Girlfriend: “Actually we’ve met, ma’am.”

Mom: “Really?”

Girlfriend: “Yes? At [My Name]’s birthday.”

Me: “Mom, her name is [Girlfriend].”

Mom: “Oh, sorry, I forgot. Anyway, are you a friend from college?”

(My girlfriend and I share a look.)

Me: “Kind of. She’s actually my girlfriend.”

(My mom apparently has no idea I’m bi, even though I told her years ago. At the time, she just got angry and told me it was a phase.)

Mom: “What?!”

Girlfriend: “Is that a problem?”

Mom: “Yes! My only daughter can’t be gay!”

Me: “Yes, I can, because I am!”

Mom: “Get out!”

Girlfriend: “What?”

Mom: “Both of you, out. And get all of your junk out of that room, too. You can’t stay here. What if [My Brother] gets gay, too?”

Girlfriend: *snorts*

Mom: “What’s so funny?”

Girlfriend: “He’s married! To a girl! He’s not going to just turn gay!”

Mom: “Of course not, because you’re both leaving!”

Girlfriend: “All right.” *to me* “Let’s go. You can stay with my roommate and me.”

Mom: “No! Who knows what sort of stupid s*** you’re going to talk her into?! She stays here!”

Me: “But you just told me to leave.”

Mom: “You’re messing with my brain and making me say stuff! Only the [slur] has to go.”

Me: *pauses to think and stare at Mom* “I think I will move in with [Girlfriend].”

Mom: “GOOD RIDDANCE!”

(My family are native Hawaiians, and we live in Hawaii. Since we work hard to keep our culture alive, it didn’t upset us when my identical twin came out to be mahu, or what other cultures would describe as transgender. While some would take hormone pills or surgery, he never does that. Instead, he feels okay with a binder, short hair, and correct clothing. While this has confused people, he has been more than happy to explain it. This happens at the beach, where the two of us decide to hang out with my female friends. Of course, one of them does get confused by my brother, so he explains it to her.)

Female Friend: “I just don’t get it. I mean, I do. But why did you guys stop believing in it?”

(Before he can explain it to her, a beach ball lands near us. He picks it up, and we see a man running up to us.)

Man: “Hey, babe, you mind throwing that here?”

Brother: *tosses the ball* “Sure thing, but I’m not a babe.”

Man: “Aw, don’t sell yourself short. Hey, how about your hot self joins my friends and me in a friendly game?”

(It’s at this point I can feel a confrontation happening, so I get up and stand right next to him.)

Me: “Hey, do you mind backing off from my brother?”

(And just like that, you can see the man’s face go from perverted to disgusted in a matter of seconds.)

Man: “That’s wrong. She doesn’t even look like a dude.”

Me: “That’s your opinion. How about you keep it to yourself?”

Brother: “I just don’t want to get any treatments. Doesn’t make me less of a man. Our culture believes in this.”

Man: “Your culture is wrong. You want to know what dictates a man or a woman? This.”

(And just like that, the man tries to touch my brother in a very personal area. I stop him by punching him before he does. He falls to the sand, and I can hear our friends behind us shrieking.)

Man: “You’re going to Hell, you know that?!”

Me: “Sorry, but we don’t believe in Hell.”

(He stomps off, and the both of us walk back to our friends. I worry about my brother being upset, but the first thing he says once we get back to our friends is:)

Brother: “And that is why we stopped believing in it.”

(We all burst out laughing, and the rest of our time at the beach was amazing.)

(I am a student in a language arts class. There is a substitute teacher today. While she is taking attendance:)

Teacher: “[My Name]?”

(I raise my hand.)

Teacher: *short pause* “Did you know your last name is [My Last Name]?”

Me: *confused by her suggestion that I might not know my last name* “Um… Yes?”

(She then stops class for several minutes to explain how important my last name is. Apparently, some random guy with a similar last name wrote a book that she likes. After this, class actually starts moving forward. The class has just finished reading Romeo and Juliet a few days ago, and today we read a short story called Pyramus and Thisbe, which is also about two forbidden lovers who killed themselves. The substitute teacher constantly stops the class to gush about how romantic the whole thing is. Both characters died near a mulberry bush, and after we finish:)

Teacher: “Now I want to get married near a mulberry bush. I wonder if there are any mulberry bushes in [Town]?”

(By this point, I think it’s safe to assume that just about everyone in the class is getting annoyed by this. One person in particular, who is never afraid to state her opinion, decides to say something.)

Other Student: “I don’t really care.”

Teacher: “Hold on! I did not just hear you say you don’t care? Why don’t you care?”

Other Student: “Because love is disgusting.”

Teacher: “What?! How is love disgusting?”

Other Student: “Anything intimate is just gross to me.”

(The substitute teacher then assumes that the student has come from an abusive household, or that she has mental health issues, or some such bullcrap. Being asexual myself, I decide to speak up.)

Me: “So, now it’s a crime to not be interested in love?”

Teacher: “Don’t tell me. You’re not interested in love, either?”

Me: “Nope.”

(The substitute teacher assumed that I was going through mental health issues, as well. She went on for several minutes about how we were both going to become hermits with no social skills, and not have any friends or contacts. I’ve heard of homophobia before, but I didn’t know there were people who thought asexuality was a sin. Between that and her obsession with my last name, I was glad to get out of that class with that substitute teacher.)

(I am in class, and a girl I’ve seen around school has straightened her hair. It’s usually pretty curly, so I comment on it.)

Me: “Your hair’s so pretty and straight!”

Girl: “Unlike me.”

(I take that to mean she has self-esteem issues, so I try to console her.)

Me: “Don’t say that. You’re pretty!”

Girl: “Oh, no. I’m pretty. I’m just not straight.”

(I cracked up so hard my stomach still hurts.)

In elementary school, a project is assigned to create a family tree.

I do not have a dad, but I don’t want to leave that side blank like a classmate does, so I put my mom’s best friend, who is also a babysitter and everyone’s “second momma.” She always tells me I’m her favorite kid. My teacher thinks it’s cute.

Fast forward to when I am 18. Mom and “Second Momma” have something important to tell me. They bring out that family tree I drew; I am shocked they’ve kept it. As it turns out, my “Second Momma” really is my second momma; that is, they are a couple, but not legally married. Her being a babysitter gave the perfect excuse when everyone called her Momma.