“What does your mom say?
About you doing this for gay men?”
She’s referring to surrogacy, to the announcement I made
On my Facebook feed
“She doesn’t like it, I know, but she says nothing.”
“But, she doesn’t like it?”
“No,
But she wants me to be happy,
Because she’s my mom, so.”
“Hmm, mmm.”
Swivel in the chair, type on the screen.
“What if your daughter was gay?” I say
Swivel back, “I would love her, but I wouldn’t go to her wedding.”
“That’s not love.”
“Yes, I would love her.”
“Love would go to her wedding.”
“God first, though. The wedding is my line.”
“What if the wedding is her line? The line where she says, I am done with you then.”
“She would never do that.”
“If you think that, then you don’t understand the pain of rejection, of being told your love
Is less than.”
“It’s a choice to sin and I cannot indulge it.”
“Love is a not a sin.”
“The Bible says being gay is a sin.”
“The Bible has been used to justify
Black slavery
And the oppression of women.”
You dismiss my words with a wave of your hand
Because you cannot argue
Historical truths
“My daughter is like you, all liberal so I just pray and pray.”
“It’s good that she questions.”
“Dear God, bring this girl back to you.”
“Please don’t.”
I am bitter, I know it, and I bait her and I shouldn’t
I don’t know why
I know her view
It used to be me, in that chair
In that pew
With the recited words and readied answers
The power of being sure
And right
And everyone else
Is broken
And lost
And needs my truth to offend
Them away from the fires of hell
Because to shame them now
Is love
But if the kingdom of God is in us
Then so is hell
And the hell inside me
Is you
What you say
And think
And the hell of it is
Learning to not give a shit
But to let the hellfire burn
So this light of mine can shine
For all the world to see
Who I am and what makes me happy
Another day and I buzzed my hair away
Type, type, swivel
“Why did you do that to your hair?”
“I wanted to.”
“You look like a cancer patient.”
“That’s tasteless.”
“But you do. Why would you do that? You have nice eyes,
Nice eye makeup,
Only your hair, you need to grow it out.”
“Because your attraction to me is important?”
Swivel.
“I thought you were against being gay.” Cheeky, I know.
No, it’s not that
It’s that you have a box
And think with your box
But I blur the lines
Because you think
A vagina means your hair should look like this
Your hips should sway like this
Your mouth should smile like this
A vagina was made for a cock to dominate it
So my womanhood
Is defined
By being dominated
By a cock
You say gays are perverts
Trans are perverts
But you are the one that cares what is between my legs
And who I let there
And whose baby will grow
Safe and secure there
Who is the pervert, truly?
If you demean yourself
To the position
That is dictated by your genitals and his
I am free and above
And beyond that
I am the gender bender
I am the bisexual and the asexual
Genderless
Nonconformist
Because the soul, the personhood
Has more characteristics
Than whether
It’s an “innie” or an “outtie”
As if no will exists
Beyond the day of birth
Then stamp my forehead
With a “V”
And throw me in the pile of “Vs”
Until such a time
As a may be filled with a cock
Or push out a baby
But if I am more than my biology
And have purpose beyond reproduction
Then don’t limit me
You say you love me
“I love all people.”
Because love is your creed
But you don’t know me
You wouldn’t accept me if you did
Because I know you
Because I was you
And I stepped out and looked
Behind me
And there you were,
Miles away
In the pages of history
While I step toward
The future
In which
Love is love
And no one gives a shit
What’s between your legs
