thin rainbow lines

by kawrage

“Listen,” they would say. “I have no problems with you,” they would claim. “But I disapprove of your queerness,” they would finally add.

And with that, I would feel the weight of the world crashing down on me.

Where does the line between “I am” queer end and the “I do” queer begin? How can I split myself into several neat compartments, ensuring that none of that perverted queerness spills over? Is there a lever I can turn?

But this burden of separation only lies upon the queer body.

For if they can form a gulf between “are” and “do”, then I too can force a gulf between the “am” and “do”. If they can segregate their beliefs and feelings, then I too can separate the judge and the judgement. That if they can look beyond my perversion, I can look beyond their disdain.

Perhaps from now on, I should respond with, “Listen, I have no problems with you, but I do take issue with that two-dimensional view of me,” and leave them with the task of unpacking that statement.

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