Unfiltered

I’m still so fucking angry

Growing up I was one of those kids who internalized everything. My outlet was my journal. I loved writing. I could be myself without fear of judgment. Until that time my dad and step-monster decided to read it. After that I got into the habit of writing in ways that were almost coded for their eyes. Code switching with myself so as to not get into trouble. It didn’t work and in the midst of my teen angst after the god-knows-how-many-times they’d read my journal and chastised me I just burned the fucking thing and stopped writing.

But I still have that nasty habit of worrying about someone reading over my shoulder so I try to be careful. It may not seem like it, but I promise, if I wrote everything the way it appears in my mind I would likely alienate a lot of you, be misconstrued by others of you, and worry the rest of you. But I cannot couch what is going on in my heart and mind anymore.

I am angry. I am sure a lot of you are. I have awakened every morning since the election with knot in my stomach. I have cried in the shower every fucking day. Not sad tears. Angry, violent fucking tears.

I have done violence in the past. Sometimes sanctioned, sometimes not. Every time I have done violence as an adult I truly believed I was on the side of right. I find myself wondering if I will have to do violence again. I pray not, but it is on the table. Tree of liberty… blood of tyrants and patriots and all that.1

I’m on my way back to the United States right now. To a fucking red state that gave us the new VP and voted for the Orange Troglodyte™. I am a little worried that my rage will surface if I happen across some trump loving assclown. Not because I have some hero complex. Rather, I have all this pent up energy and no real outlet.

Maybe writing this will help. Maybe putting together a website with resources for people trying to leave the United States will help. But… I dunno. I need to do more.

I need to make sure the beautiful black women who tried so hard to save us from ourselves know that they are seen, that what they did matters, that they are absolute Queens, all of them.

I really fucking need my Latino brothers to fix their fuck up. You voted for a fucking racist who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. Why? You know what? Doesn’t matter. You failed on a massive scale and when it comes back to bite you in the ass remember that you played your fucking self, mijo.

I want so badly to make this world a place the people I love – all of you beautiful misfits – can be free to live and love the way they were meant to. I’m sorry I just haven’t figured out how to build that world for all of you.