Religion was always that interesting wild card in my life. It
meant good things in the sense that family members changed for the good when
they “walked in the path of their savior” and so many of my incarcerated
cousins also found that religion gave their lives foundation and stability. It
played the opposite during the times it was shoved down my throat. The gag
reflex played out during the times that my catholic school lessons told me that
there existed a list for sin and committing them meant hell. Trying to
comprehend how that played out really didn’t make sense to me cause in my eyes I
saw that religion didn’t delve into what constructed what was evil. It was
wrong to steal it told me but to stand by and watch my family suffer hunger
just wasn’t worth it or to say that queerness was an abomination when
heterosexuality was fully “flaunted” in the church corridors. Crossing my
religious borders left me with scars, my family carries mixed feelings towards
me they know that I’m an abomination under the religious view but to our
families image of success I received my high school diploma and I’m still
chasing the “dream”.
Flashbacks to
the many times that my family became a cohesive unit go back to what the
catholic religion set for us. It’s meant coming together for the new baby’s
bautiso, the tia’s wedding, a cousins first communion, Christmas dinner, and so
forth. While I do carry a bitter taste in my mouth from the numerous catholic
teachings and the Sunday wine sips, I know that there was good that came from
one end of my religious border.
I do kind of
wish that my family and general society were able to see beyond man-written
pages as to what constitutes the greater forces. Judgment, stigma, and hate
have far too often been reproduced through the pages of the bible and it’s been
a reason for my crossing of that border.
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