In a small town, I am 'guilty' of being an outsider
by mere virtue of existence.
People hate and fear me because I exist.
They don't see me (us) as people, as human,
as individuals, as precious goods.
They see us through a veil of misguided fear,
hateful teachings, their parents' handed-down
generational confusion and bias, church-sponsored hate,
misinformed prejudices, self-hating hang-ups,
mind-numbing agendas, and other horseshit that I
am not responsible for burdening them with.
(Yet, we still bear the brunt.)
I am the cumulative threat--the Big Bad--
of a thousand Sunday school diatribes, decades
worth of social cues to distrust the homos, and
the imposed etiquette of purportedly appropriate
behavioral standards. Their ignorance made flesh,
though they are unaware of the divide
between assumption and reality...
that I exist beyond their small minds-eye.
I am not at fault or to blame
that these folks were never exposed
to any openly, proudly, unapologetically queer
folks, though their populace is filled to capacity
with shamed, closeted, and miserable brothers
and sisters of mine.
Others taught them--trained them well--in
fearing their own sexuality and the world
outside their door.
I swear I didn't tell them the lie that there
are no queers in their family tree, their current family,
or this town. That we are not an isolated nor
big city phenomenon.
I do wish there was a simple way to speed them past
all of their hangups and growth pains, but the only pill they
see in sight is me...and none of them dare put me in
their mouth and swallow!
***
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