#Oppression – A Gendered Experience

They send me a message because, “God told them to”, and “they love me”.

Are we listening to the same God?

The message always reads something along the lines of, “You have been on my heart recently, and I want you to see the good God can do in your life, if you let Him”. There is often a sermon or Bible verse attached to a rambling message about my misdeeds; I wonder why they choose to use a sacred text to perpetuate hate. They call it compassion; I call it oppression.

I read the scripture. I listen to the sermon. Sometimes multiple times. I respond in as much kindness as possible. But I hate them.

I wonder at their accusations. Misled. Misguided. In need of prayer. The sins of my mother. Where was my father? I turned against Christ. Debauchery with the Devil.

Sign me up, Sinner, at least the Devil doesn’t mind getting kinky.

They all have strong opinions on my sex life. On my “struggle with same sex attraction”.

Why am I always a lesbian in this narrative? Where is my sexual fluidity? Has my gender taken the day off?

They never ask, but only assume. If they do ask, the questions route me back to a conversion story I want no part of. Different women are in my bed each night; I wonder where they’re finding all of these trans positive, sexually fluid women.

Sign me up, Sinner, sexual freedom is where it’s at.

They speak at me. I speak at them. No one listens. No one wants to change. I get angry. They pray. I snap. They tell me they don’t want to convert me. I quit responding; my heart has been scraped raw inside my chest. I think about what I want to actually tell them; they don’t deserve me. Or you. Or anyone.

I barely stop myself from responding.

Have you ever angry fucked after grown men with signs screamed obscenities at you simply for expressing affection? Because let me tell you, angry fucking in protest against men who’d rather see you dead is a hell of a rush.

Have you ever flipped off a car of young men after they screamed, “DYKE” out their window? They keep laughing and driving, but you and your partner watch for it to slow down, terrified they’ll turn around. Be ready to run. You encouraged them.

Have you ever fucked your way through years of internalized hate to self acceptance? Fucking is your rebellion, your resistance, and eventually your freedom. Sex is fucking beautiful when it’s you tearing down the cisheteropatriarchy.

Have you ever held your partner in front of unsupportive parents? Disgusting, sinful, selfish. How dare you force your lifestyle on them. The passive aggressive sneering. You’re carving out this space as people who are choosing to openly exist. This is a privilege. You will lose things. You already have.

Have you ever twined your fingers together with your partner’s? Only to quickly drop their hand when the looks, the words, the laughter, become too much? Have you ever kissed in protest? Homophobes hate wet tongues.

Have you ever been afraid of going to the bathroom? Which one do you use? You don’t really belong in either one. Your body has lost its sacredness. Peeing is your reclamation.

Have you ever seen the power of LGBTQIA2S+ existence in public? Felt the rage? The resistance? Rebellion? Lust? Desperation? Love? Let it swallow you.

Have you ever? Have you ever? Have you ever have you ever have you everhaveyoueverhaveyoueverhaveyoueverhaveyoueverhaveyoueverhaveyouever

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Have you ever fucking screamed your soul out in the face of hate?

-Kain

Tag: #Oppression

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