Single Parent Research Paper

My mother and I have always been incredibly close. I am more thankful for her than I could ever put into words; she balanced the task of being a single parent along with two jobs, giving up in order to ensure that her child would have a happy, healthy childhood. She is my role model, she was my first best friend, and I look up to her more than I have any other person in my lifetime. However, there was one night many months ago that we found ourselves talking over dinner, and the subject wandered onto that of our family, our background, and my upbringing. My mother -- as any other parent would -- had always tried to do what was best for me, but as we reminisced on those early years of my life we both shared one major regret: Allowing me to be baptized Catholic and
Even now, I don't think much has changed. I remember the voice of the priest floating up to the rafters where a fidgeting collection of grade-schoolers sat waiting for their music cues, trying with all of their might to find a way to entertain themselves. I remember the scriptures reading that I, as a child, was to respect and not challenge my elders. The whispers of misogyny, the renouncement of gays, the denial of mental illness, and the ultimately well-intended but ultimately harmful advice that if we just prayed hard enough, then we could wash away all of the things that made God so ashamed of us. As if love was something to be ashamed of, as if the emotions that one had no control of were their fault from the beginning. As if it were sheer impudence to question any of this, and even more so to question any man of the cloth when you were born with a body dissimilar to theirs. A woman, a queer, a depressed psycho: these were all of the things that I was told God hated me for. These things were what I was told that I should hate others for, and while the Holy Bible tells one to love thy neighbor, those who hold it close tend to have an affinity for