Happy Sunday everyone! I won’t even pretend that the struggle is not real for me today. The struggle is kicking my fucking ass today. I am hurt. I am frustrated. I am tired of the fucking hate. I am suffocating and gagging on the words people are fucking mincing. I am fed up with the bullshit. I am over being fucking lied to. I am sick of feeling spiritually bankrupt because I am often so undervalued that I actually believe I’m not worth much…it’s bullshit and yet I buy it. I am done buying it.
Things are coming up for me that are torturing my soul. It’s not forever. For now though…I am a bit fucked up over it. I’m definitely worn out from it. I’m sick because of your sickness and I’m a little pissed about that on this day. You….and you and even you throwing me away has left me feeling a bit like a piece of fucking trash. And to be bluntly honest…I throw up in my mouth a bit when I hear the shit I hear spewing out of yours. Your are ignorant and you do not wish not to be so. You are hurtful in action and only sorry in words. Your words hold no value here any longer. The moment the truth was lost…the moment the tables turned and promises started getting broken…the moments that followed became increasingly difficult for me. Today is difficult for me. It hurts me to say it, and yet say it I must…I won’t be your whipping boy. It hurts me to say it because I didn’t know that I was until the beatings commenced. The faces I see in the dark are darker and more familiar than I remembered them to be. The color that faded to black is coming back in technicolor now. Denial does not serve me and so I speak my truth. You need not listen or hear it any longer. I’ll not waste my heart and my voice to fall on deaf ears any longer.
Like I said…the struggle is real for me today. The words bouncing around inside my head are crushing my reality a bit. I have been stuck in a full blown PTSD spin since 5:00 or so AM. I cannot get out. I have cried most of this day and I have remembered things that hurt my heart. I saw a video of Tiffany being taunted and teased and fucking abused and tortured by ignorant and senseless fools and I fucking weep. God damn it do I weep. I know that pain. I know those snickers. I know that rage that boils over when you just want to be yourself…and you are not permitted to be. I know the hurt of being the person you say you hate, without knowing anything about me. Your ignorant and foolish comments, ignorant as they are, hurt me. Tiffany is my sister and if I hear you call her brother, I will not stand by and pretend that I did not. Tiffany is my sister and you will not fucking call her mister…or sir…not on my watch…not without a word from me. I will not be silent when you hurt my sister. I will not stand down when you stand up where you don’t fucking belong. The ignorance flowing from your lips like wine is not intoxicating to me…your breath of too much drink and the slur across your lips keeps me remembering why it is that I am sober. Thank you. Tiffany is my sister. I ask each of you to please send my sister Tiffany your love. As long as one of us broken, not one of us will truly be whole.
Words hurt. The withholding of words hurts even more. I ask each and every one of you to give yourself permission to stand up for what is right. Do not stand by laughing and mocking and teasing too. Do not forget that what enrages you about me deeply touches something in you that you’ve not yet resolved. Let me not forget the same thing in my conflict with you. I hurt so badly tonight that I cannot console myself. I hurt for who we’ve become…for how we treat one another…for how we toss each other aside…for how we hurt the animals…for how we hurt our wives…I weep for Tiffany, for I see and feel her in myself. I stand with Tiffany. I am going to ask you to stand with my sister too. You may call her ma’am and you can treat her like a lady. If you cannot do these things, then say nothing to her at all. Do not question her, as it’s not your fucking business. I don’t ask about yours and you don’t ask about mine. Deal? I’ve got my sisters back. I will always have my sisters back. If you do not have my sisters back, then you do not have my back either. I am my sister. My sister is me. You are my sister and my sister is you. The sooner we all know this, the sooner we will all be free. What holds you hostage bars me in also. Your pain is mine. Your hurt, mine.
This blog is dedicated to my sister Tiffany and to all of my brothers and sisters in the Queer and LGBT 🏳️🌈 community. We have every right to be here. We will not be silent to make you comfortable and we will not stand down when you step up. You are out of line. You have been called out. We will appreciate it for you to stand down, step the fuck aside and treat us like ladies. You may call me ma’am…although I prefer you call me Coral. If you call me sir by accident, I will understand. If you call me sir again, I will correct you more audibly. You will call me ma’am or you will not call me at all. And so it is.
Please send out all of your love tonight to my sisters and my brothers who will not be silent any longer. We will stand up for ourselves and for each other and I am going to ask you to stand up for us to. Will you please stand up for my sisters and brothers and I when you see us being persecuted? Your silence hurts us more than their infliction. Please know this. If we matter to you, like you say we do…start standing up for us. You may call me ma’am. And so it is. I love you Tiffany. I love you. Goodnight.