Nobody likes a fag.
This is true of all people who do not identify as “straight”, cisgender heterosexual or apparently “normal”.
In fact, the dislike of feminine queerness is greatly robust that it has become internalised into the very fabric of our own community; the cis of our community have even gone as far as to wage a silent war on femininity.
Many of us, due to heteronormative demands and due to our socialisation, as well, have been forcibly exposed more often to heterosexuality than our own queerness. We live a life of debilitating secrecy in order to please the resilience of normalised toxic masculinity and appease the forever patriarchy-internalized femininity and before we know it:
We submit. We assimilate. We sadly become “normal” or so we think.
Years down the line, our true selves come knocking down the door with demands for their deserved occupation; their life-given space.
They laugh. They think. They come to accept us on a trial basis full or tricks and traps.
Such acceptances are only presented with masked pretences because to reject your very being, which they have become accustomed to, is the difficulty of the nurtured relationship and they then begin to tolerate you, hang around you with forced smiles and since your fear of solitude is stronger than your faith in your freedom, you sacrifice your everything for those who dictate their acceptance of you.
The excruciatingly painful reality is the illusion by which you insist to entertain.
The illusion is your food for your hunger.
The liquid for your thirst.
The fix for your craving.
The oxygen for your breath.
To know and to feel that you are still alive.
And, as you entertain the illusion, those who have accepted you, suddenly begin to plot for your exclusion. They ask ‘how do we place this one aside. How do we reject him with kindness. How do we make him feel he does not matter? How do we show it'.
They begin to re-socialize without you. They build and strengthen their bonds without you. They embark on adventures without you. They support each other without you. They want to perfect their existence without you. Indeed, they are determined for you to be without when you were tricked to never go within.
You begin to sink into the muddy waters of your self-betrayal. You move with the broken, the unhealed, the pariahs of those undesired by the miserable world. You grow with low vibrations and become that which the darkness itself would reject.
‘How do you insist with such foolishness’, your soul asks.
You deceive yourself and carry nothing but pain from your feet, to your brain and settle with such draconian mumblings in your heart and yet still…
They do not bother.
They do not care.
They whip you with their own disgust of you. Wanting, hoping, wishing and praying that your ways will soon change. That you will one day come to your senses… but it is not your senses they want; it is theirs. They want their senses to be meaningful to their reality, to be understandable in order to discover their violent peace from your presence in the world.
You write broken poetry and sing exasperating melodies and harmonies. You measure against a nothingness only to find that you have nothing left for your soul and have sold it with the prospect of an irretrievable refund. They settle into wild beliefs that you owe them your compliance, your soft and unquestioned ‘yeses’ to their outlandishly oppressive world.
Why? Who am I? What is this nightmare that in its end, in your waking up, is salvaged by horror and death; an entrapped light lively in its prison but not made resplendent for the world?
Nobody likes a fag because your beauty is seen. Your magnificence is witnesses.
Nobody likes a fag because your melody is listened to and your gospel is heard.
Nobody likes a fag because your strength is that which one can touch and your courage, felt.
When we walk out into the world with our skins as pure as the morning sunrise, with our smiles as honest as the whistling of the birds and our faces as soft as the calm oceans, we take up our birthrights to be in this world. To be alive. To be present. They do NOT desire this.
We learn to grown and celebrate our existence but they do not wish for this. They want us dead, to be eaten by worms six feet under and for them to drink their nutrion spawned by their violence.
By their intolerance.
By their hate.
All of this because they do not like a fag; we show them who they truly are and such beings, they represses within them, scare them from the flat lands of the earth into the rocky and unthinkable pits of hell.
They live lives of misery and of pain and that, too, do we show them, place the mirror of life in front of their rotting faces.
And such are the reasons they do not like a fag.