How My Race Treats Me Because of My Sexuality

They spat. They spit on my name and changed who I really was.. just like that. They assasinated my character. They need no alternate attack. Its astonishing how ones opinion can make people cringe at the mention of you. Nevermind what good you've done. Nevermind the times you've seen them through. Still they spat. They spit behind my face and let it drip down my back. Rewriting all joys that i've brought and erasing the lessons i've taught. Like it was slaves I bought. Like I raped their daughters or bullied their sons or threatened their legacy. Like I signed the decleration of independence knowing I had no intentions on letting them live independently. But they still spat. They spit on my dreams and my hopes for decades to come. Though I'm far from dumb. They put me in a mental bottle and corked me to one day be swallowed like aged rum. Beneath the scum. Forgetting that I was part of the village it took to raise more than just some. I was the one. The leader, the feeder, the father, the son.