"which is worse, 'dyke,' or the n-word?"
the roads were wet and slippery, bumpy.
my sister refused to call me a dyke.
he's not wrong; i am a dyke.
i am queer. i like women. it's not that deep.
but my queerness is not an invitation
for you to compare me to other groups.
my whiteness will ALWAYS
come BEFORE my queerness.
referring to myself as what makes me "me"
is not an invitation for you to do the same.
i am a dyke. i will admit it.
but you cannot ask me which is worse.
when you ask me that question,
the answer is clearer than crystal.
the word you aren't saying
is clearly worse.
my answer to your question
is not a valid reason to say the word.
there is no justifiable context.
your reasoning is not logical.
you don't get to be upset
that i'm upset with you.
it's been 29 hours since we've last spoken
and it's driving you absolutely mad.
you think i'm being unreasonable,
but you know i don't associate with racists.
a/n: this is directed towards my father. 29 hours and counting.
YOU ARE READING
Pleasure or Pain? (Poetry)
PoetryI call this my book of chaos; my sanctuary. When the turmoil inside of me resurfaces, when I've surpassed my tipping point, putting my jumbled thoughts and conflictions into words gives back the control I initially lost.
