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Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Getting Things Off Your Chest Is Good.

Something's been on my mind lately.

Recently, I've begun feeling guilty. Not about the fact that my diet still has way too much sugar and sodium, or that I blissfully lose myself in writing make-believe stories when I should be studying for exams. Nope, it's none of those. Rather, I've been feeling guilty about not being more ... activisty. Yes, you heard me. Activisty.

I did all of that stuff when I was twenty-two. I was angry and angry and angry. At the world, my parents, some of my friends and all the dicks that didn't know me but felt the need to tell me what I could and couldn't do, who I could and couldn't sleep with. But the anger dissipated; I grew up, got a little zen, and somehow stopped being angry at the world—even the pricks who still wanted to tell me how I was supposed to lead my life.

Lately, though, that angry part of me has been simmering. Why have you suppressed us for so long? When will you realise you need to shout, to kick, to punch and create a furore? Don't get me wrong—I see what goes on in the world. These days we see it in high-def; it's pretty difficult to miss. But how exactly are you helping people if all the news does is make you feel angry and helpless? Perhaps I have spent the last years approaching life from too analytical point of view. This from the teenager dressed in black, hiding behind her closed bedroom door, listening to music so as yo drown out a world that made no sense. Where black and white lived segregated and no-one questioned the status quo. I think I felt so much that I couldn't bear thinking about it. Now, seemingly all I want to do is think about it, because it keeps me from feeling.

Someone showed me the FCKH8 video recently, and I realised again: kids are killing themselves over being bullied about their sexuality. Being queer has been a part of my identity for such a long time I no longer think about it. I'm not really into seeing every single movie with a lesbian in it because, let's face it, most of them are solidly crap. The L Word went in.fucking.sane pretty much right after it started. I just don't feel the need to proclaim myself as gay at every possible opportunity. And then I remember again: kids are killing themselves.

In the face of this, why am I not making a noise? Why am I not piercing my nipples, colouring my hair blue and spray-painting empowering graffiti about my lady-parts on downtown walls? I'm not sure. Becuse there is a significant part of me that would really like to do that. Would like to walk into the face of some homophobe and tell him/her exactly what it is us queers get up to; that no, not all of us go clubbing on the week-end sniffing copious amounts of drugs (but some of us do, bless); that some of us enjoy having our fucking dinner and a glass of wine in front of the TV watching the latest episode of Fringe (my favourite). That sometimes we have to work late nights, look after children, catch up with friends, play soccer or whatever—normal things. Like straight people.

I don't feel like ranting, and I'm not going to. But something in me needed to say this. It's unlikely that I actually will turn into a blue-haired lesbionic feminist (at least, not overnight). I guess I needed to get something off my chest. I haven't nearly said it as eloquent as I can because I'm writing an exam in two days and my head's kind of swimming with the facts regarding Messrs Coleridge (awesome) and Wordsworth (boring). But I'll say this: stop it. You are killing children. How is that worth the insecurities and uncertainties you carry around with you? Does it make you sleep better at night?

I may not be the most activisty person on the planet, but I see what's going on. Cowards feed upon the misery of others. For the love of god, stop listening to what your asshole friends tell you to do and start thinking for yourself.

2 comments:

yousuckfuck said...

Oh, gosh. You need to come to a Worker's Party / Unite / Fabian Socialist meeting with me sometime! :)

Lynne Jamneck said...

Well! First I need to know who you are because accepting meetings to Fabian Socialist gatherings not knowing who invited you -- believe me, I've seen THAT movie! :)