Here we go again folks. And I apologize in advance to all of you who miss the simpler jljj blog days when I wasn’t so angry and ranty all of the time (they are bound to return, just not today.) Sorry to all of you who would rather hear funny stories about how the Seal ate a whole bag of glow in the dark stars a few days ago and has since been pooping constellations. Or how I got in one of the biggest twitter battles of my life this weekend because lesbians cannot handle reasonable fashion policing, even from their own kind (oh no she did not just say that! Only I just did.) If you are thinking “Enough with the newsworthy queer-rights-gone-wrong political ranting!” I suggest you click away now.

Because once again, I AM FURIOUS about the latest happenings in regards to Constance McMillen and the unbelievable, undeniable, blatant, in-all-y’alls-queer-faggot-dyke-faces hate that has gone on and ceases to astound the safer, well-armored pieces of my being.

Now, here’s what happened:

Constance McMillen was invited to a fake prom. Constance, her girlfriend and 5 other kids, two of whom are being recognized as having “learning difficulties,” were invited to a, since realized, ‘fake’ prom, in which Principal Fuckall Wiygul and a few teachers chaperoned, but who I’m sure were all more than happy to stand there proudly while watching the homos, the freaks and the slow kids dancing alone, knowing full well that the rest of the entire senior class, with the good, normal, god-fearing children and parents, were at a secret, different prom: the ‘real’ prom.

That is what happened.

That was their response as a community. That is how the school district, the town citizens, neighbors, friends, students and parents decided to deal with this one lesbian girl who wanted to bring her girlfriend to a school dance. Yes sir, they duped a teenaged girl and a few of the slower kids into attending a fake event while everyone else knowingly attended the real one. That is what they did.

And I know after I take a few deep breaths, after a few days I’ll find myself once again capable of having a reasonable conversation about my philosophies for possible systemic change and positive ways to influence community at a grassroots level. Maybe. But right now? Right now I am so beyond trying to swallow this one.

Every day I get up and for some reason or another, in some moment or a few, I have to fight a little, stand up a bit at least, JUST TO BE ME. I’ll call Violet sweetie in the grocery store and when that guy stares at me, well, I’ve spent years now practicing how to be brave enough to stare back and not to let myself look away until after he does. And just peeing in a public place, anywhere, for me is a sort of non-consensual act of activism: me with a full bladder versus your idea of ‘female’. And I am not whining here, most of us do this in some form or another, for a million different reasons, everywhere, every day. Every single day. We wake up, we brush our teeth and then we put on some combination and specific variety of armor that let’s us walk out the front door without dying, so that we can take the blows if and when they come. Fine. That’s life and that isn’t the point here.

But sometimes I feel like my anger just falls over a breaking point and it shatters and I don’t even feel it, like right now. I’m just so profoundly sad that I feel like I can’t get enough air into my own chest. Like right now.

Right now I just want to put my hands up in the air and trade in my rainbow flag for a white one so that I can wave it back and forth and say, “You know what? Fuck it. I am so exhausted and I am not willing to fight half as dirty as you just did SO YOU WIN. Now please… please leave me alone.

And the worst part? I know that all of this anger I feel towards all of you who pulled this fake prom shit on Constance, that let Matthew Shepard get beaten up and murdered over and over, again and again and again, that have little kids killing themselves because no one is stopping the homophobic bullying, that protest and vote and preach against queer rights, my rights, this blind rage that I feel, and I do mean rage, that I have and hold and carry and wear all of the time, all towards all of you who do this, aimed right at you specifically, without giving a shit about who you are or your story or what your name is even…

I know that’s how you feel about me too.

That’s how you feel about Constance. And so when you hurt me, when you kick us down, scare us, scar us, piss us off, taunt us, harass us, warn us, threaten us, intimidate us, and bully us, when you get us so upset that we can’t sleep, like tonight (this morning)- you won and I lost.

And then, when some gay-marriage rights pass in some state we won, you lost

And then you’ll fire my friend from his job because he’s trans and you’ll get away with it and you’ll get excited and go after the next one. And I’ll turn red in the face all over again, unable to do anything about it except put my hands up in the air and shake my head, back and forth, back and forth. Like right now.

And round and round we’ll go… where we’ll stop?…

Right now, today, my hands are up. You got me. Holy shit, you got me. Eventually my hands will find their way back to my hips, and when they do, watch the fuck out. But today, my hands are up.