GRATEFUL
After "Girl" by Jamaica Kincaid
Sit down and shut up and come out on Monday, declare your queerness like a hazardous
substance, then apologize on Tuesday. How dare you intrude on heterosexual dreams, on white
picket fences and marital arguments, on small dogs and summer houses, on hierarchical kisses
and oppressive starry nights? Don't tell me you're just gay, not gay for someone necessarily, but
gay for yourself, because you belong to your queerness the way you belong to your pet cat; it can
be a pain sometimes, but you love it with your entire soul, even when it knocks things off the
table. Don't tell me you know how to love. You exist to make your friends smile sadly and be
glad they can go on a date without feeling like an apparition. Is it true that you dream of more
than human rights? Look straight in dresses and heels; still don't act too straight, or else nobody
will have a thing to comment on. Look gay in slacks and ironic tee shirts, but don't be gay. Don't
talk to girls; let girls talk about you and whisper their favorite slurs. Never forget that all you can
hope for is a seat at a violent table. But I thought queerness was about love, about liberation--
you're too gay to be loved. You're not gay enough, because how could a demurely queer girl
believe what you do, live like her lesbianism is a work of art, blast Against Me! at one in the
morning and read queercore zines and feel utterly forgotten? Tell me you'll stop living, stop
organizing, stop having faith in humanity. Tell me you'll find the right man. Tell me you love me,
love me enough to disappear. This is how to pretend your life is just a phase; this is how to keep
using she/her pronouns even though She has never been you. This is how to be grateful that you
are free to marry the state and live complicit in murder, to be asked and forcibly tell. But
conversion therapy's still legal, and I'm not even a girl--well, if you're bringing that up, you
probably need it, don't you?
substance, then apologize on Tuesday. How dare you intrude on heterosexual dreams, on white
picket fences and marital arguments, on small dogs and summer houses, on hierarchical kisses
and oppressive starry nights? Don't tell me you're just gay, not gay for someone necessarily, but
gay for yourself, because you belong to your queerness the way you belong to your pet cat; it can
be a pain sometimes, but you love it with your entire soul, even when it knocks things off the
table. Don't tell me you know how to love. You exist to make your friends smile sadly and be
glad they can go on a date without feeling like an apparition. Is it true that you dream of more
than human rights? Look straight in dresses and heels; still don't act too straight, or else nobody
will have a thing to comment on. Look gay in slacks and ironic tee shirts, but don't be gay. Don't
talk to girls; let girls talk about you and whisper their favorite slurs. Never forget that all you can
hope for is a seat at a violent table. But I thought queerness was about love, about liberation--
you're too gay to be loved. You're not gay enough, because how could a demurely queer girl
believe what you do, live like her lesbianism is a work of art, blast Against Me! at one in the
morning and read queercore zines and feel utterly forgotten? Tell me you'll stop living, stop
organizing, stop having faith in humanity. Tell me you'll find the right man. Tell me you love me,
love me enough to disappear. This is how to pretend your life is just a phase; this is how to keep
using she/her pronouns even though She has never been you. This is how to be grateful that you
are free to marry the state and live complicit in murder, to be asked and forcibly tell. But
conversion therapy's still legal, and I'm not even a girl--well, if you're bringing that up, you
probably need it, don't you?
mk zariel (it/they) is a transmasculine lesbian anarchist. influenced by the Queers Bash Back tendency, it hosts the podcast THE CHILD AND ITS ENEMIES (about being in high school and organizing), writes for the Anarchist Review of Books, and writes the blog DEBATE ME BRO (a y2k style advice column about anarchy-101 stuff). its poetry is published (or forthcoming) in Unfuturing, Not Your Poster Child, Free Verse Revolution, What We Think About When We Think About Love, Chasing The Storm, A Rose By Any Other Name, Suburban Witchcraft, and MyrtleHaus; its photography is soon to be featured in Coin Operated Press’s queer photography zine. it also organizes trans liberationist spaces across the great lakes region, performs spoken-word and theater, does graphic design for social movements, and vibes to classic queercore. find out more about its organizing and art here: https://linktr.ee/mkzariel