When the world brings me down I like to listen to the words of those who still have the courage to speak out and call for social change. When everything feels hopeless, and I am inundated with stories of rape, murder, pollution and destruction, I like to imagine that there is still time and still things we can do to make a difference.
I want to scream out loud, all oppression is connected, you dick. At the heart of every radical action in history stood the dykes who were feminists, the anti-racists who were gay rights activists, the men who believed being vulnerable could only make them stronger.
As the violence against us increases, where are the LGBT centers in those neighbourhoods where assaults occur most frequently? As the tide of the Supreme Court changes, where are the marches to support a woman's right to an abortion, and what are we doing about health insurance for those who cannot afford it?
Apparently, if the tragedy does not immediately impact you, you don't give a fuck. A revolution once pregnant with expectations flounders; apathetic and individualistic, no one knows where to vote or what to vote for anymore. The faces that now represent us have begun to look like the ones who used to burn crosses and beat bull daggers and fuck faggots up the ass with loaded guns. The companies that sponsor our events do not honour the way we live or love or dance or pray. Progressive politicians still dance around the issue of gay parenting, and the term marriage is still reserved for those unions sanctioned by a church controlled state.
For all the landmarks we celebrate, we are still niggers and faggots and minstrel references for jokes created on the funny pages of a white heterosexual world. The current LGBT manifesto, the current Left manifesto is a corporate agenda, and out side of that manifesto, a young boy dressed in drag is sucking an adult dick for his dinner, a woman is beaten every 12 seconds, every two minutes a girl is raped somewhere in America, and while we stand here, well dressed and rejoicing, in India, in China, in South America, somewhere a small child cuts the cloth to construct you that new shirt, that new shoe; an old imperialism held upright by the misuse of impoverished lives.
Gather round ye fags, dykes, trannies and all those who are committed to radical, social change. We are not simply at a cross roads. We are buried knee deep in the quagmire of a battle for our very humanity. The powers that have always been have already come for the Jews, the communists, the trade unionists and the terrorists. The time to act is now. Now while there are still ways we can fight. Now, because the rights we have left are still so very few. Now, because it is the right thing to do.