The Chronicles of Bobby

This is me finally letting go of a part of my family that I looked up to for what seems decades. A man who showed me how to play Mortal Kombat 2 as a child, the first 3D version of Street Fighter. And what I assumed was a competent bass player at his Parish, worshipping God with creativity.

But that was several lifetimes ago, before I realized I was pansexual, before question of my gender identity rose up after. Before the man I looked up to in childhood gaslighted me for having Covid-19. Before Trump, before Latinos for Trump, and before his political identity overshadowed any love he had for anyone that is like me.

The person I looked up as a child is dead. In his place is a homunculus that has made his image full of absolutes that he shouts from his online platforms. A debate bro that believes his truth to be absolute, and everyone else’s to be wrong. On the mere principle of his faith in traditions & his perception that those that accept his views at face value are the only ones to be trusted.

And so, this is my tale of what I saw growing up and how I simply didn’t see what I didn’t see until it was too late. How we both started in similar circumstances, but my neurodivergent brain guided me somewhere else and what I assume is his neurotypical brain brought him where he is. This is the Chronicles of Bobby.

I almost put up a screenshot of his insta, but that’s toxic and petty. I don’t want extended family to bother my parents anymore, and I want these to be the last words I speak of this man. Also it had his last name and his family. And while I’m about to write then publish this, well I’m trying to make amends with certain men in my family. But Bobby, he’s not one of them.

I was gonna sit here and tell everyone about a lot of the memories I have of this man. But honestly, I don’t care anymore. I was gonna put myself through the grinder remembering how he gaslighted me into thinking I could just “man up” my way out of having covid last year. But I’m alive, and while that was scary, I’m alive by the grace of God.

So I’ll thank him instead.

Thank you Bobby, for showing me that men who internalized toxic masculinity don’t bother to change for their younger cousins. That the patriarchy established by your Catholic faith is alive and well; That I have much more work should I do my part in dismantling it.

Thank you for reminding me that in the end, I can only count on myself. That the men in our society and my former religion, they don’t get breaks. That I’m better off NOT knowing the new you or your family; I have plenty now anyway.

That you won’t help me, even if I’m dying of a literal disease.

Thanks for showing the world that men like you, you can’t be counted on. You’re selfish and self-serving in the end; Either for your political points or your own narrative.

I hope God will help you & your family in the future; Because I won’t.

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Writer/poet for hire and fighting game enthusiast. I’m a neurodivergent queer who is also a military veteran. I write about politics & culture sometimes.

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E. D. Esqueda

E. D. Esqueda

Writer/poet for hire and fighting game enthusiast. I’m a neurodivergent queer who is also a military veteran. I write about politics & culture sometimes.

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