I was born left-handed.

I live in a right-handed world.

Everyone assumes I'm right-handed because that's what's considered normal.

I grew up watching celebrities on talk shows openly joking about their left-handedness, but being openly joked about on the news station my parents watched.

My mother (right-handed) would say, "I understand some people are left-handed, but they don't have to parade it around."

My father (right-handed) would say, "I think they're just saying they're left-handed for the attention."

My brother (right-handed) wouldn't say anything.

We went to church on Sundays and sat in the same exact pew every single time. I heard sermon after sermon of the priest regurgitating his interpretation of our right-handed G-O-D. The same one who never needed to write anything down.

When I found out I was left-handed, I cried.

I cried because I wasn't like everyone else. I was different. I was wrong.

I heard my mom say it, I heard my dad say it, and I heard my brother even though he didn't say a word.

I went through years of pretending to be right-handed just to keep things easy. I wasn't living; I was acting. And I should've won a goddamn Oscar.

It chipped at my being piece by piece, their disdain and disgust for left-handed people like blows to the chest. I still can't take a full breath, my lungs too afraid to be noticed because you see, they're left-handed too.

I grew up and grew out of my house and I stopped pretending to be right-handed. I went to college and made friends with left and right-handed people alike. They taught me not to be afraid or ashamed of writing with my left hand. They gave me a welcoming environment to actually be me for the first time.

I told my family I was left-handed. I post on social media about being left-handed. I am living.

Left-handed.

My mom thinks I shouldn't be parading it around.

My dad thinks I'm faking it for the attention.

But my brother. He looks at me like he finally sees me. He still doesn't say a word, but he doesn't have to, because he picks up a pen and writes:

"I still love you."

With his left hand.


I'm dedicating this to all those who could read it and relate to it even though you write with your right hand. There's more support out there than you realize, and there's more people who are 'left-handed' than others would have you believe.