I can not sit back and
stay quiet any more.
I have been a silent
member, I have been a
quiet member, I have
been a shadow of a
member, for way too
long. It is about time for
me to speak up, in the
only way I know how.
A way that will probably
never get to the people
it is supposed to.
I still have my own
cowardice, still have my
own shame- not shame
of who I am, not shame
of what I am involved in,
but shame that I do not
necessarily want to burn
all of these bridges yet.
But that is part of the
problem- I should not even
have to burn them at all.
I am not ready for this
kind of commitment, I am
not ready for a serious
relationship with my identity.
Yet here I am. Making a
declaration, making a
promise, or an attempt,
or an effort to be involved.
And I have got a few things
to say. A list of grievances
I am nailing to your door.
They have all been said
before- I should not have
to say them. I do not have
to say them, I am just driven
to say them, I really really
want to say them, I feel like
it is a part of my duty to go
on and say them. I am
denying myself rights if I do
not say something.
See something, say
something, and I have
seen a whole lot of things
lately, and I want to say
something about them.
To my family, and the
people who are like my
family, and to the people
who reside in my
neighborhood, in the
middle of Alabama, and
to the people who are
near me yet do not
understand me because
they are not in my very
small group of friends- it
seems fruit attracts more
fruit- I have a lot of things
to say to you.
One: My grandmother
is more progressive than
you are.
Two: I am very disappointed
about what you, and
everyone like you, say
about me. I thought gossip
was a sin, but Sunday
school seems to be the
mean girls lunch table.
Three: I have a lot of
questions for people who
think my existence in and
of itself is a criminality.
Who think that I am a
massive atrocity on human
kind by being who I really
can treat us in such a
manner? What did we ever
do to be looked down upon?
Is it really a sin if it is love?
Tell me, is it? Is it a crime to
care about someone? Is it a
crime to do something in an
affectionate manner? Is it a
crime to not want to murder
your cousin? Is it a crime to
not disregard your friends for
their choices? Is it a crime to
not want to commit crimes
against other people? Why
am I hated more for the love
in my heart than some are
for the blood on their hands?
How unfair is that?
Four: When I say “we”, as
in the collective group,
there is a lot involved in this
‘we’. It is like a royal ‘we’, in
a sense. We are kings and
queens and they-majesties
of another country, a country
you do not think exists. A
country you do not want to
exist. A country you read of
in books but then you ripped
out the pages or threw out
the whole book because
you did not like it that much.
We are like elves- we
would be so cool if we
existed, but if we did, we
would be committing
heresy. If you recognize our
existence, you would have
to recognize other beings
in this world that disagree
with your foundation- you
do not want to reevaluate
your foundation- so you do
not acknowledge that we
exist. We have not just
started to exist now. We
have always been existing.
We are the royal we in the
sense that if we walked
into a room, we would
have the right to argue
for the same equality and
freedom of life that you do.
We have diplomatic
neutrality, you and I. We
are the side that really
wants to be your friend
and you do not. You really
like fighting. You see us lay
down our arms and take
that as a declaration of war.
We outlines our basic desires
and rights and wants for life,
and you consider that a
monstrosity . How dare we
consider ourselves entitled
to the same air you breathe?
Five: You see me step up
on this stage and start to
speak, and think that it is
horrifying. I am clearly
begging for attention. You
do not mind me living but I
should stay in my own lane-
you do not mind me existing
but I should not exist near you.
I should not breathe near you-
I might give you a virus, or a
disease. I am taking a mere
few minutes of your time by
making you read this. A mere
few minutes that enrages you.
I am only taking a few minutes
of your day but you are
taking my peace of mind.
Six: You would rather I not
stand out. You would rather
things to stay the same- to
not change. I do not like
change either, believe me!
But sometimes same is not
good- sometimes same is
not right. Sometimes same
has to be changed.
Seven: I walk into the room
and you do not like me.
I walk into the room and
you act like I do not exist,
if it is a good day. If it is a
bad day, you tell me that I
am a disgrace. You tell me
that I deserve to die. That I
will die. Or that I am going
to die. You say that you
would kill me, but since you
can not, your god will.
Eight: My existence is a
call to what you could
possibly be. You could
care about other people.
You could have respect
towards women. You could
be in relationship where
you have actual trust for
one another. You could
be learning to love your
partner for beyond what
they can give to you. My
existence is arguing equal
partnership. My existence
argues that there must be
another definition of
intimacy outside of what
happens inside a bedroom.
Nine: I do not want your
forgiveness- I do not want
your acceptance. Forgiveness
implies I have done something
wrong against you. I have
done nothing wrong against
you. There is nothing to be
forgiven for. I do not want to
be accepted. I do not want to
be absorbed. I do not want
you to steal my culture and
add it to your ever growing
collection.
Ten: I want us to stand
across the room from each
other and recognize that
one another is valid. I want
you to look me in the eye
when you talk to me.
Eleven: I am tired of being
the Gay Cousin. I am tired
of being the family disgrace.
I am tired of being the one
who “did not get invited to
dinner, so why is she here?”.
I am tired of being the
homeless person who is
denied help. I am tired of
being the person who can
not have a job because my
employer deserves a front
row seat in my private life.
Twelve: We have the right
to life, liberty, and the pursuit
of happiness just like everyone
else in this godforsaken
country, but you want to
make it so hard on us. We will
continue to keep pursuing it,
no matter how hard you make it.
Thirteen: You think we hate
you. We do not. We hate
what you do to us. I want to
be able to eat Thanksgiving
lunch with my family and not
worry that it is going to be the
last. Not worry that some
day, they are going to read
something with my name
attached to it, and they are
not going to want to talk to
me anymore. I am afraid that
one day, I will go to sit with
my friends and the seat will
be blocked off. I am afraid
that my car will be keyed by
the people I trust.
Fourteen: Some of you call
yourselves allies, but you are
not. You say you would never
hurt us, that you are not the
ones doing all of these
horrible things against us,
but are you really? You would
not do it, but you would watch.
You would clap. You are like
fans of a sport- just because
you are not the ones playing
does not mean you don’t
love the game.
Fifteen: You use us like
lambs for a sacrifice, so
God may not see your own
sins. It is not fair. We are not
animals. Our bloodshed will
never make you holy.
Sixteen: I am sorry we can
not get along. I am sorry
that I scare you, or I hurt
you, or I take advantage of
you. Whatever you think I
am doing to you, I am sorry.
I am sorry I wasted all of this
time on this stage for a topic
that is different than what you
are used to. I am sorry that I
am the one person in the
brochure that does not fit
your mold. I am sorry you
can not erase me out of a
history book, because I am
not in a history book just yet.
I am sorry you have to wait
until I am dead to pretend I
never existed. I am sorry
that I am not sorry.
I know I am talking from a
higher level. A higher
perspective- a position
where I have not suffered
much personally. I am
blessed with what I call a
privilege of invisibility.
According to my sexuality,
I do not exist. According to
my gender, I am undermined.
According to my brain, I am
infantilized and ignored.
According to my skin color,
I simply blend in. Why is it a
privilege to not be seen?
Because the alternative is
that I am harassed, or
assaulted, or killed, or shot
at- or bullied until I am the
one shooting at myself. I do
not want it to be an act of
suicide for me to state my name.
See, I stay in the background.
You do not notice me in the
line up. You see me enter the
room, and do not expect me
to speak. But right now I am
talking, and I have got a lot
to say. I am nailing my list of
grievances against bigotry
on your front door.
Now it is your turn to answer.
How will you plea?