Letter to a parent. Mom, would you hear me?


LGBT persons wrote letters to their families. The organization’s volunteers read them and made videos.

Hi, Mom. Look what a sunny day. It’s great, isn’t it? Can we take a walk?

Probably not. I don’t have the strength.

Why, Mom? Would you hear me? Mom, promise me, you’ll stay with me.

Listen, Mom. You know, I’ve changed a lot. But, anyway, I’m your little girl.

I never wanted to hurt you, but now there is a pain inside of me. My soul is scattering, Mom. Am I ruining? Mom, I’m mad – I’m looking at her eyes and rising up to the sky… Mom, I miss, I yearn… My soul bleeds in a corner, longing to her and I’m scared. I’m afraid of losing, losing you, losing her.

Mom, her name is Anna… she has big brown eyes, beautiful black hair. She likes to be active, reads the same books as I. Mom, don’t scream, just hear me out. Our music taste is absolutely the same. Mom, she’s my ideal; I’ve found it. It’s difficult, don’t you know?

No, she doesn’t love me, she says she used to.
But how can you love in the past?

Mom, I’m suffocating, because I don’t see much of her. I wanna talk to you, Mom, tell you about her, talk about my longing, my love, my pain. But I’m hurting you. Why, why is this so complicated?

How come I can’t just come and hug, hug you and cry in your arms? Why, would you tell me?

Mom, am I perishing? Am I the shame of the family? Don’t you love me anymore? Are you leaving me like Anna?

You loved… What about now? How can love have the past? You always were proud of me. What’s happened? Love is prohibited? I didn’t make a sin, Mom. Don’t condemn me, please, I beg you, Mom.

I’m yours, I’m your daughter, don’t destroy me. At least not you. I can’t fight, Mom. Anna and you consumed my whole mind; my inside is yours.

You’re different. One of you hurts me, and I’m doing everything not to hurt you, Mom. But you are alike, you both loved me. How awful that sounds.

Don’t cry, Mom… I’m yours, I’m a human, I didn’t make a sin.

I know, Mom, one sunny and warm day, just like today, you’ll understand your daughter. You’ll forgive and embrace me.

And you’ll not look at me with big abhorrence. You’ll not be so hateful.

Because I’m yours, and I love you.

M., Vanadzor