'The Aberrant' by Hannah Aranzanso

‘Aberration’. A state or condition to be marked differently from the social norm. I learned this word when I was 13, fresh into seventh grade. I’m going onto 17 soon and this word still haunts me despite how tall I stand now. Though it has only been 4 years since I’ve come to learn this word, I have been gaining an understanding of it my entire life.

Growing up me and my friends would spend recess playing family with each other. The ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’ moping around our imaginary house, dealing with their children’s incessant antics. Usually I would jump at the chance of being able to play as the family pet. Like a dog, or a cat. I like to think that was because everybody loves their pets, and I am someone who loves to be loved. When I wasn’t spending our playtime as a pet, my second option would always be to play the Father. Eventually I eased into constantly playing the Father whenever we needed one. To me and my friends who were all simple little girls, this was normal. 

One day we carried on playing as usual. The grime and muck stuck to our fingers from using the wood chips on the floor as food. Slowly into the first few minutes of recess my friends had somehow convinced me to steal sand from the big kid area on our playground, I vividly remember their reasoning being to ‘put seasoning on our wood chips’. So for the first time on that particular day, I stepped foot into big kid territory for the first time. Slowly I shuffled my way onto their side of the playground with my fingers crossed, hoping that by some miracle my three foot tall body would blend in. Spoiler alert; I didn’t fit in one bit. 

Big kids of all kinds surrounded me, fifth graders, sixth graders, the situation was inescapable. They sat me down and made me explain how I was a father trespassing to steal seasoning for his kids. And that was when I heard it. “That’s gay” someone murmured. I frowned in confusion. I had never heard the word ‘gay’ before that moment but they made it sound like a terrible, terrible thing. From that day on the word ‘gay’ lingered in my 7 year old brain. 

After a few years, seventh grade rolled around and schools started teaching their kids about LGBTQ+ issues, I realized that being gay wasn't such a horrible thing after all. A photo of Lady Gaga waving the absolutely iconic rainbow flag had been shown to us. While everyone else gazed in awe at the colors, all I could think of was how happy she seemed in that picture. In front of millions of people, Lady Gaga proudly danced the flag around wholeheartedly. One day, I hoped, I'd be able to look as happy as her.

Then eighth grade happened. For me, reaching eighth grade has always been marked as a significant turning point. At last, I was the age that my younger self had always dreamed of being. Graduation was just around the corner, and all I could think about was highschool. A fresh start. Junior High didn’t serve me justice, I was constantly making mistakes and trying to fit into places I didn’t. So the thought of redeeming myself in highschool seemed so refreshing. 

A step closer to graduation, the second semester kicked off.  My life carried on as per usual until I made one new friend. A girl, my grade. She was selfless, adventurous, and everything I wanted in a future partner. But we were girls, she was a girl. Being gay looked so good on other people, but on me it felt so uncanny. Suddenly eighth grade wasn’t as peaceful as I made it out to be. I spent hours everyday trying to figure out what was wrong with me. In my mind if I couldn’t fit in as ‘straight’ Hannah, what made me think I could fit in as lesbian Hannah? 

Spring came three months before we were set to graduate. On this particular day my friend had pulled me aside, we sat behind the school underneath a tree. "Could you give me your hand?" She enquired. I gave a nod and held out my hand, grazing each other's fingers. Slowly, she put a bracelet around my wrist. It was braided with yarn, creating a row of hearts. She raised her wrist to mine, showing me that she had a matching one. Her bracelet had 6 hearts for Hannah. My name. Mine had 7 hearts to represent hers. 

From that day on I fully embraced the love I had for her. I knew it wasn’t platonic as we both tried to make it out to be. We liked each other, not in the way normal girl friends were supposed to and it felt right. For the first time in my life I didn’t have to try to fit in, I just did. She’d hold my hand and our fingers would hold each other like they were familiar. Eventually we started dating, and life was comfortable being in a position where I felt like my presence actually mattered to someone. My girlfriend, I had someone to be proud of and vice versa. 

Graduation came and went, then summer made its way into our lives. Summer began and everything I had ever wanted was in my life. I had a partner, a good relationship with my family, and a home. This all came to an abrupt end painfully quick. Both me and my mom slept next to each other whilst on a day trip. On this one particular day I happened to leave my phone unlocked in plain sight unlike I usually did. Before I knew it, I was being shouted at and had the covers pulled off of me. All I could do was sit there as accusations, hypotheses, and questions were being flung in all directions. I was only thirteen and didn’t know any better. I didn't consider labels, or the way dating a girl may "affect my future," contrary to what my mother had told me. I was happy and that was all that mattered in my 13-year-old mind.

Her voice raised hell at me, “Are you gay?” I froze. My mind shuffled back to the vivid memory of those big kids, the nights I spent denying myself love for fear of sin, and all the other moments I fought alone for any sense of partnership. I had never been happier and this time I wasn’t going to let myself be stopped. I looked my mom dead in the eyes and nodded, she walked out of the room. 

The creak of the door soon dissipated and the silence filled with my sobs. It felt like I sacrificed my mother for my happiness and the guilt began to eat me alive. All that I wanted was to achieve some sort of acceptance yet I felt more out of place than ever. Nothing but discouraging thoughts ran through my head. Was there really just no place for me in society? Pain has never reached me as hard as it did on that day.

Eventually, my mother came to terms with me being queer. My girlfriend even ended up meeting the entire family. Everybody reconciled and things were good, but I wasn’t. I had withdrawn from the world for fear that nobody enjoyed my presence, nobody liked me as I was. I was terrified that I’d have to live as someone I wasn’t for the rest of my life just to have people at my deathbed someday. The night my mother found out about my sexuality triggered a fear in me I wasn’t aware I could have, and it was extremely evident. I stopped calling my friends, stopped reaching out to my girlfriend. Every night I’d fall asleep to the sound of my own thoughts putting me down and there was no escape. 

I will never be somebody.

Nobody cares to listen to what I have to say.

There is no space for me here.

Or so that’s what I thought. Tenth grade rolled around and after finishing an extremely depressing ninth grade, my expectations weren’t high whatsoever. The year started with me and my girlfriend calling it quits. At first I was hurt as I talked far too much about feeling out of place everywhere I went, and her resignation made my fragile-self feel as if she proved my point. 

Nevertheless, we can’t stare at our wounds forever. We need to patch ourselves up eventually. After sulking for quite awhile I came to the realization that I want to be somebody. I want to talk to people about my passions, I want to love people in the same sense in which I’d like to be loved. From that day on I stood firm on my decision. I decided that if I felt unknown within a room full of people I’d make myself known. Should I ever feel misunderstood, I’d shout from the rooftops about the inconveniences in my life to make sure people understand me. 

This time I’d stand out, and this time I’d speak up.

So I did. I joined a whole bunch of clubs, volunteered at the Pride Parade, befriended people I would’ve never thought about approaching previously, went to therapy, apologized, communicated, worked on my self-esteem, but most importantly I made room for myself in society.

Now I strive to befriend those who fight the same battles I’ve fought. I want to seek out those who are struggling as I did and give them my last yellow skittle. Regardless of anything done which ties them in with an aberrant.  From playing the father during house, or being inspired by Lady Gaga’s shameless flag wave, humans are so unique in every way and every one of us deserves to feel a sense of belonging.

- Written by Hannah Aranzanso

Instagram: @hanvmain