“I’m scared.” I type. A half dozen friends all across the globe whisper back. ‘I know, sweetheart, I’m scared too.’
“Be Safe.” God, I wish that didn’t have to mean be vigilant, be smaller, be quieter. I don’t want to tell people to tuck their rainbows down their sleeves but at the same time I just want them to be ok. People bring up contingency plans, list support groups and phone numbers. No one mentions the police, no one mentions guns.
A woman I follow is at Stonewall placing roses with her wife a matter of yards from where Marsha P Johnson threw the first brick, people are banding together there chanting and paying respect. I tell my friends I love them. “This hurts” they say. “I know” I can feel it in my lungs today, in my blood in my bone marrow, my hands jitter because there is lightning under my skin and it’s painful.
“I’m tired” I say over and over, when I don’t have the words or the courage to talk back to the ones who don’t understand nor want to.
My father jumps to the defense of his fellow straight people, “Please don’t” I say because this isn’t a debate topic, it’s my life.
I don’t want to hear ‘don’t fight hate with hate’ or it’s like, just say what you mean: “Give Up” you don’t want to hear our voices, our anger, you want us to lie down and die in the streets like we did in the 80s.
Fuck you, fuck your comfort fuck your allyship, your concern.
“We’re strong” Says one girl, and for fuck’s sake, she’s seventeen I want to reach through the internet and hug her close because yes we are strong and so wise so early. I try to help from a distance as the community moves to raise money to fund funerals, to give blood, to keep going.
I don’t have the right words none of these are right, they’re not poetic they don’t roll of your tongue. I just have scared whispers of people I love and half a dozen scattered angry thoughts that lack the congruity or the purpose to be called a swarm. I send some money, I message my friends and I go back to bed because the feelings are so big and so deep I can’t process anymore.
I repeat the platitudes in my head, I twist and curl, curl, curl my feet and hands until the discomfort dissipates. My friend says he loves me and he’s here if I need him. We live 7,500 miles away from each other. Our words form a chain of call and response. “I Love you” I type before heading to bed. “So Much”.
I’m tired. Please don’t give up.
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