I hear it in the way voices hush and turn to each other in speculation. Like the mere idea is shocking, a social faux pas spoken behind smoke screens or a cheeky jest between friends, when the contours of the word know me intimately.
In saying who I am, I sever the idealization of who they want me to be. Waiting until I am digestible again when it was never for them to consume.
“I could never lay with a woman,” they tell me as if it’s inherently strange.
“I don’t know how you would, pussy is so gross.” They look at me as if it’s a lesser act. When I am down on my knees as a commandment to her.
“Well, maybe if I was blacked out.” An anomaly to want when they have never understood the word. Their conditional acceptance is cued by incessant laughter and the social merit that ridicule grants.
All boiled down to one part of a whole: Sex. Lesbians and their depraved taboo sex. Lesbians aren’t supposed to have sex.
Taboo: (Noun) considered offensive, embarrassing, forbidden. Synonym: You are too intricate for them to articulate.
I swallowed the prescripts, layered on the falsehoods, and sanitized the morsel of being a girl, with girl friends who bury the fact of wanting a girlfriend. A lot of my life has been rearranging words so it will be acceptable.
But looking at my existence, being able to navigate through life with this heart. I try to honor what came before me, the lavender rituals held in secrecy as I stand forward as proof of love’s will. one that cannot not be erased or compressed into neatly bound notations.
Even in misconstrued eyes and mistranslation, there is clarity that exists from within. How beautiful it is to love another woman through another woman’s eyes. There is a deep intimacy in sapphic souls. There are no rules, no conventions, only the truth that you exist to love and be loved in return.
titsay
yousharknotpass
janainaart
romaincrisis
areudirty
