RAINBOW POETRY AND OTHER STORIES ➳ [#WattPride]

Pride

by Joanna Hoffman

The summer I turned 14
My grandmother got me smashed at a wedding in Jersey.
Somewhere in between the 3rd glass of champagne and the 4th abosong
She turned to me and said
"Joanna, someday you're gonna have a wedding just like this
And when you do, please don't let them play any disco. "
I didn't really know how to tell her that I probably would not be having any wedding at all
That I wore these bones like a VoiceOver
When really I was in love with my friend Cathlene.
I thought just maybe
If I held this itch under water long enough
It would float up blue.
Tried to claw the want from my voice every time Cathlene asked what I thought of her boyfriend.
Tearing all the power cords from my driven imagination
And burning every lamp in my throat watching her.
I learned what shame feels like.
I painted my skin with postcard gleam
As if the best I could ever hope for
Is to reflect somebody else's shine.
As if there were some parts of me better off drowned in a swimming pool of white out
It is not in our nature to cringe before the mirror like this.
A person born blind will tilt their head back and extend their arms
When they feel pride.
It's in our bones not to take shame into our blood
But to live boldly
And so now, all these years later
Here is my pride.
For refusing to allow the wet blanket stare of strangers on the subway
Smother this burn to hold her hand.
For every time someone has said
"Wow, you don't look gay"
And I didn't say thank you for not allowing my heart to be strip searched
By those who wanna know if my love is pure enough
Because I've already spent years
Committing hate crimes against myself
And I already know all of those tricks.
So when my friend asks me why there is no straight pride parades
I tell her
You can't be proud of something you never have to fight for.
This is for every wedding I've watched from the sidelines.
For every fairy tale with stipulations.
Every "it's a choice, it's a phase, you're disgusting"
Every gay kid who believed nothing would ever make this better
Because home meant break the parts of yourself that don't fit in to the plaster
Of who you're supposed to be.
But we already are exactly who we are supposed to be.
And just this summer I woke up in a city where I could actually get married on day.
And I think back to that wedding in Jersey.
How I was the last one to leave the dance floor,
Makeup smeared and beaming.
How my grandmother grabbed my hand as I walked by and said
Hey I'm proud of you
With no buts or if onlys clinging to the underside of her voice.
And now finally, all these years later
I'm able to say the same thing to myself.