Did you just stab me?

To see your people die in front of you, day by day, feels like a stab to the chest every minute you remember they no longer exist with you on this earth. your day one, now reset to day zero. To know that there is something that could be done by the government to help, yet the government refuses, is something that I will never understand. How dare you say that it would be too expensive to implement standards, research, and rules? How are we putting price tags on millions of lives? During the AIDs epidemic, all that was needed to stop people from dying was research. The simple step of researching this illness could have saved thousands from one community and thousands of others. So I ask, why didn’t we just do our due diligence? It was because they wanted this mass sweeping, they decided that the majority of lives being lost were lives they were willing to spare. In this process, not only did we lose the sons and daughters of the LGBTQ community, but we also lost young children and an outstanding number of heterosexual women. EVERYONE suffered from the negligence of the government. This isn’t the first instance of attempts at clearing a community. Let us not forget that the drug distribution epidemic in black neighborhoods was created by the government itself. They wanted the community to break itself down from the inside out. They placed boxes of narcotics all over the streets, knowing that people would fall into their traps because addiction is a strong drug, one that feels impossible to break. watching my people drop dead from overdosing, my family become estranged, and statistics skyrocket felt like a stab to the chest. It wasn’t until the narcotics made their way to prosperous neighborhoods that they stopped placing these traps. This shows once again how hurting one community hurts EVERYONE. The number of times the government has intentionally watched a community die is something that should make everyone’s stomach turn. We cannot sit idle and watch as this occurs. Every time we sit back and watch as communities die, whether it be at the hands of one person or an entire branch, we are allowing ourselves to be stabbed in the chest. an injustice to one is an injustice to EVERYONE. As someone who is a part of both communities talked of above, let me ask you something: Did you just stab me? 

Taking What’s Mine

Under the First Amendment, we have the right to protest, so why is it that when we do, it’s just seen as an annoyance? Why do they believe that some bodies don’t have the right to form one big body of people? The truth of the matter is that they feel we don’t belong. The biggest protests known to America have been over civil rights, the rights to just be seen as human and nothing less. people felt as if those bodies didn’t belong on their streets and sidewalks. How dare our bodies occupy space reserved for theirs?   People will scare you from your position, run you out with fear and violence. You must remember that the reason you are there is for bodies like yours no longer have to run in fear, but stand in comfort. They feel as if their space is being taken away when, in reality, they must realize that it is meant to be shared. The earth belongs to no one and everyone. It is our right to take up that space and even hold more than what is needed for our bodies to allow more to stand with us. Every time we subject ourselves to the world of protests, the better the chances for the children of tomorrow to not have to. We all once had that fire in us when we were children ourselves. The fight we gave to our parents when we refused to eat dinner,  and the rage-filled letters we slipped under doors, all show the fight inside. When we relearn how to unlock it, we regain our wonder and imagination, the imagination of what this world could be if we all stood together in unity. In everything you do, remember you are deserving of the space you use. Do not shrink yourself, do not move over, own it. This can be exercised in your daily life by the way you walk and talk, be bold and brave. You have the right to exist, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I am my own label

I am me. I own no label but my name. for a major portion of my life, I identified as a lesbian; it was a truth to me, made a fact to anyone who asked. while it was something I obviously resided with, my friends at the time made it out to be my whole personality; not a day went by without being reminded of my orientation by my friends, it was all I was. what made matters worse is that I was hyper femme too. pink was in every outfit, even my all black outfit was paired with a pink sparkly belt, so to the world I was seen as the typical heterosexual ditsy pink girl. my friends constantly probed me to change, I couldn’t be a lesbian and dress the way I did; I needed to constantly be wearing markers. I was a label, only one label, nothing more. it didn’t matter that I loved drag, wrestling, building, coding, and makeup; none of my interests, which made up who I was, actually mattered to them. I was the butt of every gay joke and the first person looked at when the topic came about. As time persisted, I came to explore that women were not the only people I felt a gravitation towards, I confided in my friends about it, and the first thing they said was “Well, what are you then?”. It was like I was letting them down. within that moment, I felt something shift within me. I no longer wish to be a label, just a label. I like who I like, and that is a part of me, just a part. I know now that that friend group was not the best for me, and I do not blame them for their actions, as during this time, chronic online-ness became a pressing issue. they learned to gatekeep the community because the people they adored online were also gatekeeping, but I lost interest in being let in; I just wanted to be myself with no bounds. with this being said, I am still a very active participant in queer rallies and events. I strive to make sure that everyone I meet has a safe space within myself. not a day goes by where I’m not reminding people they are allowed to be who they are, open and free without constraints on being “enough” (whatever enough may be). No one will be made to feel the way I felt within those years, as if who I was was not enough to be let in. I now have a much better support group in friends, and I am forever grateful for them. They allow and help me explore who I am as a person, and remind me that I am complex and composed of a remarkable number of elements. in all, I am more than what anyone will ever make of me. I am queer; it’s just another part of me.

What The Hell Are You On About?

I have always been made brutally aware of how I look and how much space I take up. From an early age, I would be taunted for my widened belly, dark skin, and braided hair, but always praised for my silence, attention, and “proper” speaking. Within that, I was taught to internalize these statements, and I unfortunately projected them. It was what I thought was right and wrong, and in being a child, I wanted nothing more than to be virtuous. So that’s what I did, I told myself loud was wrong, small was right, and obedience is everything. That internalized hatred festered within me so much that just my reflection could bring me to tears. As life went on, I learned to expect to be deemed stupid, incapable, and a waste of space. I learned to make myself smaller, hunching my shoulders, not eating in front of people, never looking anyone in the eye, you know, the whole shabang. It wasn’t until 13, the first time i realized that all I have is myself in the world, so why spend so much time hating it?  Why was I made to think these things? Who fed these ideas to me? No other than the people who wanted me to remain docile. They knew that if I unlocked my mind and started thinking I could be more, I would be more. Nothing is worse than a woman, let alone a black woman, with a voice. No one wants people to expose how there are still confederates in the white house and Nazis running the polls, never. So what do they do instead? Pump the media full of slim bodies, obedient wives, and diet pills, give people A LOT of small issues to deal with, so we forget the big ones. Much like how Charlie Kirk gets shot and all of a sudden everyone forgets about Epstein, one small assertion to distract from the life-changing facts. As a matter of fact, I didn’t take up ENOUGH space, and I was TOO silent. So while you are busy judging people on their looks, or hair, or whether or not they lost the 3 pounds they were supposed to, while our nation is literally on fire, I ask you:  What The Hell Are You On About?

woman looking at her sad eye in a broken mirror
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