Whenever we are engaged in conversation, why is it you don’t express any curiosity about me or my life? This past weekend during your visit to the city I intentionally mentioned details about my current situation that I would have loved to share more about with you: my upcoming two year wedding anniversary with G, my journey to live outside the gender binary and the complications that come with that at school, all the changes and successes at my new job, my life in recovery, and/or all the art that is inspiring me. It was my experience that you never once commented or followed up about any of these things. And I am honestly very curious — did you learn anything about me? Have you ever wanted to?

A few years ago I remember you told me that I did not seem to be the type of person that would get tattoos. I don’t remember if there was any further discussion but it crossed my mind recently when you did ask me a specific question about the tattoo I have on my upper arm. I was so excited to tell you about how G designed it and we each got a version tattooed just two years prior. I tried to even reference older tattoos in that same moment — and you followed up again with silence. Where does that silence come from? Is it an actual lack of curiosity about me personally or is it a discomfort with all the queerness that enhances me and my existence?

Do you remember when you were worried my younger brother might be gay? It was my experience that even in that conversation you weren’t actually asking me anything about my own life. How would you have reacted if he had actually come out as queer? Would that have triggered more understanding and engagement on your part or would your silence have grown quieter still?

What happens to all of the feelings of yours that you don’t express? Are you happy?

And finally: do you recall all the rules you think I broke growing up? My hair was styled wrong so I couldn’t go with you to church, my music collection was inappropriate so I couldn’t listen to it, my attraction to men was uncomfortable so you pretended it didn’t exist? Do all of those rules still keep you from actually loving me?