Silence = Consent

I've driven past a homemade sign
On my way to work
For a couple of months now
Its bright neon colors
Are meant to catch your eye
Pink on one side
Green on the other
The sign reads
"Silence = Consent
Register to vote"
And then it gives the dates
To do just that

This morning as I sit
Waiting at the stoplight
I look over at the sign
And think just how much that statement
Could apply to my life
Or more accurately to my dad
Who no matter how much
He may love his only daughter
He has never said anything in my defense
Or come to my rescue
He's never said one single word
To my mother about her treatment of me
Or if he did, I certainly never heard it
So in my mind, by way of his silence
My father has condoned my mother's actions

He has never stood up to her for me
Not even last night when I went
To the hospital in an
Emotionally vulnerable state
Heavy-hearted and in fear of losing him

When I walked in the room
Their minister saw me and said he should go
Now that their "real" company had arrived
My mother's response was
"She's not real company"
The implication being
That I wasn't company, I was family
But that's not what she said
Nor was it how she said it
I hadn't been in the room for more than two seconds
My mother hadn't even said hello to me yet
And she was already
Making offhanded comments about me
At that moment I was stunned
That she would say something like that
With just a few words from her mouth
My mother had shredded my heart
Leaving me to feel the pain of a wound
She inflicted a year ago
One that still hasn't healed
But I showed none of this outwardly
I became a statue
Expressing no emotion
And my dad just sat there
Not saying a word
Oblivious to the pain
That her words had just caused me

Then after a few more minutes
And a word of prayer
Their minister left
And I thought, "Well finally"
Maybe now I could get some answers
Which was my main reason
For coming there in the first place
But before I even had a chance
To ask anything at all
In walked a couple from my parents' church
So my questions would have to wait
Then a few minutes later
My mother's cell phone rang
She answered it
From her end of the conversation
I assumed it was my younger brother
Calling to check in on our father
I watched and listened to my mother
As she told him that I was there
And so were some friends from church
She hurriedly tried to get off the phone
She said she'd tell him later
When he didn't take the hint
She harshly repeated it
Then said good-bye
And I sat there and wondered
If my brother thought she was
As rude as I did
And I thought to myself
It's one thing to grow up knowing full well
Your parents' religion
Is much more important to them
Than their children ever will be
And it's quite another to have the reality
Of that fact slap you in the face

My parents' friends stayed and chit-chatted
For about an hour and a half
During most of that time
I just sat quietly in defiance
Silently refusing to give up my chair to anyone
And not even caring
That my actions might be considered rude
I really didn't care what they thought
And as I sat there I wondered
How my mother was going to get home
All the while fearing she was going to ask me to do it
Then I was going to be forced to make a decision
One way or the other
But I already knew I really didn't want to be alone
In my car with her for thirty minutes
A while later I was relieved to find out
That her friends were taking her home

But still they were in no hurry to leave
So I just sat patiently waiting
At some point I looked down at my hands in my lap
My right hand was holding on to the left
More precisely my index finger and thumb
Were holding my wedding ring
And I questioned my behavior
Wondering if I was hiding my ring
Ashamed maybe for some reason
Not wanting to believe that about myself
I pushed the thought aside
Distracted myself by listening
To the conversations around me
At one particular topic
I was so very glad that Kodi wasn't there
To be subjected to their views
On raising children
And the old adage of
Spare the rod, spoil the child
A while later I looked down at my hands again
And I realized that my actions didn't mean
That I was ashamed of my wedding ring
Nor that I was ashamed of my life choices
I wasn't ashamed that I was the only homosexual
In a hospital room full of Christians
I wasn't covering up my ring at all
I was actually holding on to the love
The real love in my life
The love of my wife
Not the so-called Christian love in the room
But love that's unconditional
Love that caused her to want
To express its depths for me
Which moved her to marry me
And give me this ring
As a symbol of her commitment
Which I hold on to as a reminder
Of that love to shield my heart
Maybe in some way to protect it
From the hatred of this world
And that of my birth family

So now it's the next day
As I sit here in my office at work
Writing this poem
I wonder if
My own silence equals consent
Of the words my mother spoke the night before
My gut reaction is to say no
Hell no, emphatically not
I think a moment longer
Now I'm not so sure
I recall a thought I had this morning
When I was thinking again
About what she said
And how I could've possibly responded
All I would have had to say
Was something as simple as
"Gee, thanks mom"
And I would have stood up to her
But in the moment it never occurred to me
To call my mother on her shit
She does her little hit-and-run routine
And I let her get away with it
So as much as I don't want to admit it
My silence does equal my consent
I guess it always has
Which isn't such a nice thought at all
And I wonder if maybe, just maybe
I might be able to stand up to my mother
The next time she pulls her crap on me
I'd like to think that maybe I could
But something inside me wonders if that
Might just be wishful thinking on my part

But who knows, maybe someday
I'll be healthy enough and strong enough
And I will stand up to my mother
Being silent no more

11.10.06