The Seventeenth

On not being straight

This may send some of you flying...

Because I want to come out. I have been busy climbing out for years now, for decades. I haven't liked the cupboard, the locker, assigned to me by default. I was put in without a thought. Without consulting me. By whom? Don't know, don't care. I want out. I wanted out from the day I started listening to the New Wave, that wasn't new, to the Police, that wasn't the police, to Blondie, who wasn't blond at all. Half a century ago. Nothing was straight ever since. I certainly wasn't. But everyone else was busy building the straight and narrow as straight and narrow as possible. Fuck!

And it doesn't help me, to put all the letters of the alphabet in a row, to try to include me. I was already in with being out from my first squeal. There is nothing in LGBTQQIP2SAA, or any other insane abbreviation, that I fully identify with. I'm not gay, tri, pan or ase.

But I am not straight.

Not straight with my path.

Not straight with laws, lawns, or limbs.

I am not straight with religion and politics.

I don't talk straight, walk straight, or write straight.

My lines do not like lined pages. My pages are blank underneath the squiggly worms of my unstraight handwriting.

My rebellion is gentle, not straight.

My law is lawless.

I am soft and squishy, I bend and spring back. I flourish and wilt and start from nothing to grow back bigger, stronger, more colourful, but definitely not straight. God-damn the straight. They did not create this place, form it. And however hard we try to, it will never be straightened out. Bombing doesn't level the field, it craters the soils, burns the living, it wounds. You cannot apply wounding to heal. Ever.

But I do like the seventeenth letter. It has this quirky quality that is quick to get to the quintessential.

I think queerness lies nearer to the root of the universe than straightness. Straightness longs to be something else, puts pressure on things to fit. Things that include you and me and any other 'thing' the illegitimate rulers can apply the ruler on. Strange word, huh, ruler. The ruling is almost done. It will go kicking and screaming. The straight doesn't have to go, it just needs to step down from the throne.

Meanwhile, I will cherish all things queer.

Which might be everything.

Bertus is out.

I am with you.

Be proud.

And spring back.

It's offness month for me, I think….here is an older post you might like.