Amazed
Amazed
I am always amazed that the ‘master race’ – with all its flannel bravado – seems to think that us queer folks are weak.
As if we didn’t grow up in New York or Appalachia or Louisiana alongside you. As if we haven’t served in every war since humans began walking upright and out of their caves. As if we haven’t been steel and rig workers. As if we haven’t worked alongside you on the farms and in the coal mines. As if proficiency in wearing high heels and field stripping an M16 are mutually exclusive things.
We are not, have not been, and will not be afraid of you. We know you so much better than you can ever hope to know us. We are your daughters and sons. Brothers and sisters. We infiltrated you at our birth. We have been watching and learning from you for as many years as we have walked this Earth. We know your tactics. We know the size of your forces. We know you.
For every song lamenting the loss of ‘real men’ and their pickup trucks, there’s a dozen of you scared to go into a drag club, to shop in Harlem, to welcome in refugees, and to heal the sick…hundreds who wouldn’t recognize your Jesus Christ if he asked you personally to crawl through the eye of the needle to escape your narrow and hateful worldview.
For each Bible that’s come crashing down on our heads there are a dozen success stories of our people who made it against the odds, who have found love and community and happiness. We’re as tough as our full set of acrylic nails. We’ve had to be.
Go ahead. Try and silence us. You can’t. We’re loud as fuck. Make our existence illegal all over again. History loves to repeat itself and we know how the history books will remember you. We also know how they will remember us. Try and arrest us. We’re good with bricks and fabulous with spray paint.
Be gay. Do crime. Expect us.