"Hey, sweet boy, what's up?"
I was distracted as I ruffled the papers over my desk, searching for a pen to jot some notes down about the last client who'd walked in. But the sniffle on the other end of the phone made me pause, thoughts of work immeadiately draining away.
"Tyler? What's the matter honey?"
"Th-they laughed at me," my little brother whimpered through the phone, letting me know that he was most definately crying. My heart fell and a puff of defeated air left my lips. I pressed my hand to my forehead, cursing the world for being so cruel.
When Tyler told me he was running for student council last week, I'd grabbed him and spun him around, so excited and so damn proud of him that I could've screamed. He'd been ecstatic, his smile so wide that it could've cured any broken heart.
We'd spent the whole weekend preparing his poster, going over his pledges and speech, and I'd spent the morning styling his hair and straightening out his school uniform until he looked absolutely handsome and ready to conquer the world.
There had been a small voice in the back of my head, telling me not to let him do this, knowing that there was a chance that he would get hurt, wanting to protect him. But who would I be to stop my amazing brother from being himself and going after his dreams and fighting for his rights? I would be a deadbeat asshole and it would contradict everything I'd ever taught him about loving, accepting and cherishing himself.
"Tell me what happened," I encouraged gently, my hurt turning into rage for Tyler. I would be down to that school in a heartbeat and rain hell down on them if anything happened to him that could've been stopped. I didn't care for the opinions of his teachers or classmates but the school had a moral duty to protect Tyler from open discrimination.
"It was my turn to present," Tyler sniffled and I wanted to reach through the phone and wrap my arms around him. "I got up and I had my poster but... as soon as," he choked up and I cursed, clenching my fists.
Pledge number seven: EVERYONE should be allowed to wear skirts or shorts or trousers or pinafores, as long as they are part of the school uniform. We should all have a choice!
That pledge had meant the most to him and I remember holding him in my arms on his first day of secondary school when I'd had to let him know about the school's uniform policy. He was devastated.
Boys must wear trousers or shorts. Girls must wear skirts or pinafores. It was a strict, catholic school, the school I went to when I was his age and the school our parents decided Tyler should attend too before they died.
I'd been looking around, trying to find other alternatives to the stifling institute, knowing how oppressed and out of place Tyler felt there. But the nearest community school was an hour away and I couldn't afford the weekly transport costs it would take to get him there and back. Right now, he was being brave and doing well where he was, but I knew sometimes... it was hell for him.
Tyler didn't get bullied. No, when the school realised that I was an intimidating, six-foot-four black guy who would kill for my little brother, they knew damn well that shit wouldn't fly with me. I let his teacher know, I let his school board know and I let his head master know that if anything happened to Tyler, I'd make their lives a living hell. I showed face to every parents meeting, assembly, bring your mom, dad, grandparents to school day. I was there and I made sure that anything to do with Tyler was my business. I didn't fuck around.
On his first day of school, I made sure to walk Tyler through the school yard and right up to his classroom. I made sure that all of the other kids knew my face. They fucked with him, I fucked with them. Teenagers could be nasty and there weren't no way some pimple faced younger with a stick up their ass would make life hard for my baby. No way.
Tyler was gay. He had been sure that he was gay since his first day of reception where he met the love of his life (his words, not mine), Peter, another five year old boy with missing teeth. Their teacher had caught them kissing over their packed lunches underneath the slide during break time. It had been so adorable and hilarious and I hadn't cared in the slightest.
Our parents on the other hand were religious and although they weren't as bad as most God-loving Catholics, they hadn't been supportive of Tyler's sexual preference. However, instead of punishing him or sending him to a conversion camp like some of the horror stories I'd seen in the news, our parents took a 'he'll grow out of it' approach. It was disappointing but overall, a relief.
However, Tyler of course didn't grow out of it. He was a gay boy who liked cross dressing. I wasn't entirely sure how it all worked and we had to have a serious talk so I could better understand who he was and how he wanted to live.
I had been terrified at first that it was something more serious, like if he was experiencing gender dysphoria or even if he wanted to become a transgender woman all together. If any of those scenarios were the case, then we'd work through it together and figure out what he needed. I wasn't terrified because it was a bad thing, no I was terrified that this was beyond my capabilities and I wouldn't be enough to help him get through this when he needed me the most.
It turned out that Tyler was gay and identified as cis-male but just liked to wear clothes society had gendered feminine. He was a cross dresser. I could role with that. I took it in, accepted it and supported it.
Tyler had first started letting me know by subtly asking me to look around the stores a bit longer than usual. Instead of going straight to the men&boys section in the department shops, Tyler made me walk up and down the aisles with him, through each section until we stopped there last. Then, we went to the women&girls section more and more often each visit and he would casually point out items of clothing he thought were pretty.
I didn't think much of it, since well heck, I could appreciate stylish outfits when I saw them, no matter which gender was meant to wear it. But then, Tyler asked me to buy him a skirt. Straight up, right there in the middle of the aisle.
He was nervous, his eyes so desperate, his fingers fidgeting. I'd been stunned, not sure of what to do, how I should react or what to say. It was a lot to process but I knew that he needed me to say yes. I knew he needed to know I was behind him.
So I bought the skirt.... and many other skirts after that because I had no balls and my little brother's puppy eyes had me falling over my feet for him. Skirts, dresses, crop tops, makeup (light makeup because he was still young and I could deal with sparkle but smokey eyes was a whole different story).
It was our little secret. I made him promise to keep it under wraps around mum and dad, knowing that this might be the last straw to push them over the edge with Tyler. I couldn't risk it, couldn't risk our family falling apart or Tyler getting hurt. He agreed and only wore his delicacies when the two of us where alone together.
When Tyler turned thirteen and I turned twenty, our parents passed away in a car accident. It was tragic but life happened and I wasn't as affected as I thought I'd be. I loved my parents and I knew they loved me, and sometimes I felt guilty for not falling into a dark depression like most people would have in my situation.
Instead, I focused on getting custody of Tyler and doing the best I could for the both of us. That included finally letting Tyler express himself the way he truly wanted to at home for the next three years. School was... challenging for him and I was trying my best, but he had two years left until he could legally get out and I was praying he'd survive just a little longer until he was finally free.
"They all laughed Remi. All of them," Tyler continued to sob. "I didn't get any votes at all. Even Ciara didn't vote for me. I thought she was my friend but after I sat back down, she pretended not to know me. It was humiliating."
I felt tears sting my own eyes. The thought of my baby brother being treated like that broke my heart. I was angry and I was disappointed. He was a child who just wanted to be himself and be accepted. His classmates couldn't even have the basic human decency to support him.
I cleared my throat to force the lump of emotion away, knowing that Tyler needed me to be strong for him. "I'm so sorry, sweet boy. Your pledges were amazing and if I were there, you would've had my vote-"
"You're only saying that because you're my brother!" He cut me off and I could hear the pain in his voice as he let out a hoarse cry. "You don't have to pretend anymore Rem! I know I'm a freak, I know I'm different and I'll never be like everyone else. I'm not wearing any stupid girly things ever again!"
"You don't mean that," my spine snapped straight and my chest tightened painfully. "Tyler you are not going to change yourself because your skanky assed classmates have their heads shoved so far up their stinking cunts, they can't recognise a fabulous student council member when he's standing right in front of them. You will not bow down to other people's ignorance," my voice became firmer, harsher.
"I did not raise you to be a quitter and I certainly did not raise you to talk down on yourself. I know you're hurting sweet boy, but you are strong, you are smart, you are gorgeous and you look killer in spaghetti strap dresses paired with platform heels. Do you understand me?! Don't make me come down there and ring your ears!"
Tyler was quiet for a moment before his soft giggles echoed down the line. I let out a sigh of relief, happy that I was getting through to him. "You have a foul mouth, Rem," he snickered and I smirked.
"You need me to come get you honey?" I asked, already preparing to put my files away in my bag. I couldn't really afford to take the afternoon off but if he felt unsafe or just needed to escape then he would always come first to any job.
I hadn't done too well in school - academics just wasn't my thing. Because of my low grades, most of the jobs I scored were low pay with shitty hours. Right now, I worked as a receptionist in a small law firm. It was probably one of the best jobs I'd ever gotten and I wasn't eager to get fired any time soon for unexplained absences. The pay was decent and I actually liked my boss for once. But... Tyler always came first.
"No it's okay, I just needed to vent," he let out a soft sigh and I could hear the tiredness to his voice. My poor baby brother was hurting. It made me feel like a failure even though this wasn't my fault. "I'll be okay, thanks Remi, for making me feel better."
"You're welcome sweet boy. Hold your head high. Rise above every motherfucker-"
"Remi!" He giggled some more. "Jesus is watching you!" He joked because he and I were both atheists and he knew it.
"He thinks I'm sexy, don't mind him. Watch your back, Tyler. Don't let anyone give you trouble. Be smart. I'll be home when you get there okay? I love you."
"Love you too."
We hung up and I slumped in my chair, running my hand down my face. I liked to think that I knew what I was doing with Tyler, that I'd be enough to make the world sunshine and rainbows for him. But the truth was that sometimes I was just as lost as he was and he relied on me to be strong for him. It was tiring and devastating when I couldn't protect him. But he was sixteen now and I felt sick to my stomach when I realised that he would most likely deal with prejudice for most of his life.
If all else failed, I wanted him to know that I loved him, that I would always love him no matter what and that he would never be alone. I wanted him to see that there was nothing wrong with him, that it was the people around him who needed to change their outdated ideology.
I bit my lip, suddenly smiling to myself when a thought came to mind. I knew exactly what would make him feel better after his shitty day. I knew what would make him see how much he meant to me and how I truly supported everything he stood for.
We were going to have a blast.
- ☆ -
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