Queer Identity vs Queer Community/Proof

In 2021

Post bars, post AIDs, post gay-marriage–

Where does the queer community live,

And who gatekeeps it?

I’ve never quite been able to get in, you see–

As a lesbian I was too butch, too fat, too sad

Not lez because I was queer as fuck

But queer because I was “desperate enough”

As a trans man I am a traitor to some, and

Honestly, just because I think for myself,

And don’t gender fat– people are

Madder than hell at my show.


A while ago

Some random guy on twitch asked me

“What are you mad about?”

And honestly, just the question itself

Enraged me beyond consolation. I’m mad about

You, asshat. I’m mad about all of you

I’m mad about how fucking fake, how fucking insincere

How many bullies thrive in the queer sphere

All protected under the premise of

“Well, I’m queer too, so I’m allowed to say

Whatever the fuck I want to anyone about anything

No matter how it makes them feel.

Anything other than that is anti-feminist and

Contradictory to progress”

The problem is–

You can’t be mad

At everyone

For everything

For a vague reason that you can’t explain.

Most people call that entitlement,

In my experience it seems to be greatly tied

To depression, anxiety, and gender dysphoria.

For me, my anger, my outbursts, all of my

Misdirected frustration

Comes from a deep source of pain

A deep, profound miscommunication–

The only time I get angry is when someone

Ignores, disrespects, or belittles my masculinity–

A phenomenon most men are familiar with.

I am no different.

Why do I feel such guilt, such anger, such rage

All the time about so many things?

Gender identity disorder, gender dysphoria

A profound disconnect between

The world I was born in and the person I was born as.

A phenomenon most call youth, but with

A twist of lime, and a dagger.

I don’t expect anyone to understand

What I’m mad about, I do expect

Other similarly bent folks

To somehow feel this, even though

I am just typing. I am inconsolable, and yet– I know

That you are out there, and I know

That I might die mad about it, but I won’t be

Alone, because at least I have all this

Proof I existed in the form of a poem.

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