Lee A. Jacobus describes Plato’s allegory of the cave as “a story in which the characters and situations actually represent people and situations in another context (448).” Plato’s work is written as a conversation between himself and Socrates. The story describes prisoners in a cave, who have only seen what their captors let them. These captors, or “people with gear,” cast shadows on the walls, which the prisoners interpret as reality. Later, they set one of the prisoners free. After leaving, he discovers that the world is not as he expected. When the prisoner returns to the cave, he tells the others of the world above. I had a similar experience when a transgender woman married into my homophobic family. My view of the world changed entirely and I was a different person from then on. Like the characters in Plato’s allegory, I was once a prisoner in a cave. As children, my mother sheltered my siblings and I as much as she could. We spent nearly all of our time at home and we weren’t allowed to go anywhere that could influence us negatively. At the time, my life seemed normal and I was happy to live in ignorance. I accepted everything my mother said as fact and never gave it a second thought. It was frightening to think of what would happen if I were to challenge her beliefs. My mother’s limited point of view, along with my own submissiveness, kept me chained down, unable to discover information on my own. Plato’s allegory describes people with gear that largely influence the prisoners and their knowledge of the world. Similarly, my mother controlled everything in the house. She committed to approving the television I watched, the books I read, and even the people I talked to. There was little chance of learning any opinion that opposed my mother’s. It was like I had no ideas of my own. I didn’t question anything my mother stated because I had never heard any information contrary to her opinion. She was my biggest influence and because I looked up to her, I believed her without question. One of the largest influences in my upbringing was Christianity. Religion was an absolute in my home and because I knew of nothing else, I accepted it. My mother taught me that Christianity was the only correct religion and that homosexual behavior was condemning. These were the shadows that shaped my reality. They were ideas that had been ingrained into my mind since birth and I never thought that they could be false. My mother kept me in her perfect little world, protected from outside influences. In my house, everyone inferred that I was particularly smart.
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I’ve always had a knack for learning and this made me a superior child. I was also extremely neat. My siblings often found me cleaning up and I kept my room tidy. My mother praised me for being responsible and always appreciated my helping around the house. It was similar to the prisoner’s honor from the allegory of the cave. Even though I was the neat one, my family viewed me as inferior in other ways. They would often ignore me and when I’d try to join the conversation, they’d tell me that I talk too much. It was difficult to receive any attention when there were seven other children begging for it. My house was always loud and full of people. One of my sisters, Bekah, seemed to be the more egregious of my siblings. She made heaps of trouble and was infamous for disagreeing with our mother. About five years ago, Bekah was dating someone. This wouldn’t have been strange, except that her significant other was wildly inappropriate in my family’s eyes. Her name was Jenna and she was a transgender woman. My mother took on the classic “if you ignore it, it will go away” attitude, but that was harder to do once they became engaged. Unlike my more bigoted family members, my sister, Sarah, encouraged me to get befriend my future sister in-law. She snuck me out of the house weekly to spend time with Bekah and Jenna. This was my ascent to the surface. Throughout this change, there was a large amount of emotional turmoil with my family. I vividly remember a family discussion about whether or not we should attend Bekah and Jenna’s wedding. After all, we couldn’t have them thinking that they had our support,
I’ve always had a knack for learning and this made me a superior child. I was also extremely neat. My siblings often found me cleaning up and I kept my room tidy. My mother praised me for being responsible and always appreciated my helping around the house. It was similar to the prisoner’s honor from the allegory of the cave. Even though I was the neat one, my family viewed me as inferior in other ways. They would often ignore me and when I’d try to join the conversation, they’d tell me that I talk too much. It was difficult to receive any attention when there were seven other children begging for it. My house was always loud and full of people. One of my sisters, Bekah, seemed to be the more egregious of my siblings. She made heaps of trouble and was infamous for disagreeing with our mother. About five years ago, Bekah was dating someone. This wouldn’t have been strange, except that her significant other was wildly inappropriate in my family’s eyes. Her name was Jenna and she was a transgender woman. My mother took on the classic “if you ignore it, it will go away” attitude, but that was harder to do once they became engaged. Unlike my more bigoted family members, my sister, Sarah, encouraged me to get befriend my future sister in-law. She snuck me out of the house weekly to spend time with Bekah and Jenna. This was my ascent to the surface. Throughout this change, there was a large amount of emotional turmoil with my family. I vividly remember a family discussion about whether or not we should attend Bekah and Jenna’s wedding. After all, we couldn’t have them thinking that they had our support,