Karla the Kid & the Kind Knight

When my parents learned of my arrival, they weren't married yet. But within 6 months, they got hitched and I was present at their wedding.

For a while, the story was that I was a premie; everyone pretended that made sense. But that's how it was back then, I guess. It was customary to tell little white lies to maintain appearances.

I used to say I was an accident, but my mom liked to remind me that I was a welcome surprise. My parents lovingly credit me for bringing the family together and since things turned out alright, I'll take it!

My father thought I'd be a boy. He even bet his friends; it was another one of those things some folx did back then. The plan was for me to be a Carlos, just like him, but when I popped out I was named Karla. He thought he was being unique by turning the C into a K. If my dad felt any disappointment about having a girl, he never said. He covered his tracks quite well instead; when my sister was en route, he'd say that after me, he wanted another girl. Today is my dad's birthday by the way.

I didn't like my name for some time when I was young. I think it had something to do with a teacher in the fourth grade making funny rhymes with his students' names. Then one day when I was a bit older and even more self conscience, I read somewhere that Karla meant "manly woman" and that didn't sound right. I was a girl, after all, and those words struck a chord. I just didn't know quite exactly what I'd heard, but it sounded a lot like a truth I wasn't prepared to take.

Once I was ready to listen to my heart, my name suddenly suited me quite perfectly. I was my father's daughter, alright. More alike than I'd ever realized or wanted to admit, but it's true, I'm a lot like him.

I am not girl anymore and I outgrew woman too, I'm not a man like him either; I'm one of those people that exists somewhere in-between. I'm genderqueer; I've always been. But only recently did I begin to grasp what it all meant and I'm still adjusting to the language. I now use they/them pronouns, but not exclusively and I haven't told my dad yet. I probably will one day, but we have a better relationship now than we ever had before; so, I'm not sure I'm eager to rock the boat again.

He's been great with me being gay, but the more gender non-conforming I became, I could tell that it affected him. He wasn't mean or anything, but he'd comment about little things like my hair as it got shorter and shorter and is now half shaved. More recently he's taken to complimenting my hairstyle when I get a fresh buzz, I think it's because he's clear nothing about me is a phase and I'm the same child that takes after him.

Although he and I have butt heads a lot in my teens, I was his little buddy when it was just me and him in Peru for about 6 months without my mom who'd taken off after the American dream. And once I left home, we began to get a long much better. We've been through some quarrels, but we've healed much of the hurt because we've both been willing.

Today, I can say without reservation, that Carlos Alberto Villar Huiza, my father, is a really good man. He's a true family man of honorable character. He's responsible, hard working, and cares deeply about people. Those who know him know they can count on him. He's quite the perfectionist and gifted with his hands. He can fix pretty much anything and makes beautiful furniture with wood.

I don't have his skills, but I think I have his passion. Sometimes it's a bit much, but it's sincere - an earnest desire to do go and be good. He's not a big reader, but he stays informed. He enjoys learning and embraces change in spite of how hard it can sometimes be for him because he knows that change is part of growth.

My dad still has some rough edges, but over time he's smoothed out quite a lot. He's not afraid of feelings, but he struggles with them like most men do; like men of his generation were trained to, he represses the ones that make him most vulnerable. We talk about this stuff a lot; like I did when I was a kid, I challenge him a lot. The difference is, now he listens.

Carlos according to a quick google search means "free man" which is apt since he really is an independent thinker and unencumbered by others' perspectives of him. His nickname as a young man was Crazy Carlos because he didn't care what anyone said about him and I think that's admirable and appreciate that he's always been this way. Perhaps he really gets me.

My mom is the kindest person ever and my dad would definitely agree; he says she makes him better. I definitely concur, but he's not that far behind. Both have taught me to be kind in their own way, but my dad likes to show up like a knight-in-shining armor for his people ready to save the day. There's a bit of that in me, I think, but I'm no knight. Still, I do believe that above most things, it's important to be kind.