I’m sitting on my couch after another all nighter. I’m not even tired. Maybe I don’t know what tired is anymore. Sleep used to be my friend, now we only meet between work and school, in the seconds I don’t have to think. Audre lorde sits beside me. She writes beautifully, she makes it seem so easy. When it’s just me and her I have no fears. When it’s just me and her I’m okay. It’s not always just the two of us though. Eventually the world is going to come knocking, and I won’t have an answer.
I want her to give me her courage. She says that my silence will not protect me, and I feel its truth all through me. I think I can do it. I think I can tell them, let them know who I am. Then, I open my mouth to speak, and my words run dry.
How interesting, that in a world filled with so much problems, in a world where I have faced so much; it is my sexuality that tops the list. It’s love that makes me an outsider.
It’s weird sometimes, when I tell people I’m scared of coming out. Because it’s legal now, people think I’m scared of angry parents. They don’t think I’m scared of being disowned, of loosing my culture, my family, of being alone. They don’t think my mom will actually die from the shock of it, from the pain. Sometimes I don’t either, sometimes I tell myself I’m overreacting. Then I remember how I tried to tell her and she vomited. I remember how she said if it was true, she would never be okay. She would have lost a daughter. Her will for living. My words crawl back inside me, afraid. They nestle against my rib cage so I can feel their weight with each heartbeat. Audre Lorde said my silence wouldn’t protect me, but it’s protecting me now.