grievances

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 

1. Why do you think you 

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?