A PanAfricanist Queer Womanist Collective
I am fearfully and wonderfully made. That is why you fear me and cannot understand how I am made. What you do understand is how to react and pass judgment on the final product. Before you condemn me to my fate answer me a few questions…
Were you there when I was formed?
When the blue prints for my life were laid out?
Did you give God notes and tips on how to improve me and they were not taken?
Didn’t think so.
You speak on behalf of my Creator.
In turn you do nothing but damn their handiwork.
You claim that what I am is not right, is a defilement of nature.
But in turn you do nothing but critique the very being you call perfect.
So how can I listen to you when your every word and action makes you less of a reflection of the deity you profess to represent?
Don’t claim to know the thoughts of the one who made me unless you were there when they did. Do not profess to know what is right and wrong between us unless you are able to penetrate the very fabric of the universe and let all the secrets pour forth from her lips to your ears.
We live in a world where those who tell us what is right will tell us to stay with abusers and marry tricksters as long as they are men. To submit to them as long as we form the ‘perfect union’.
But someone who loves you with everything they have, would be willing to do anything for you has an unnatural love because they are the ‘wrong’ person.
Women on this continent have been mistreated for centuries in the name of tradition.
The man they have given everything to has given the small piece he is selfishly willing to part with to 4 or 5 other women. The man who rapes his pregnant wife because she has told her to submit to her husband.
The man who beats his companion of 20 years so that she may ‘know her place’. The man who infects his faithful lover with HIV for he has been dicking about on her.
All in the name of patriarchy and tradition. Religion and beliefs. All in the name of ‘love is between a man and a woman’.
This for me is what is truly unnatural. Not the love between two women. What is the true abomination of the love that has been written about for millennium and in the texts of every religion.
So until you have the designs for time and space saved on your laptop or the soundtrack for all existence on your ipod…don’t.
Until you start creating whole worlds and galaxies and are able to hold the cosmos in your hands…don’t.
And when you have done all this I will happily accept your critique of my genetic make up. Of the way I am. Of my very existence. But until you have been the supreme being in a universe or two (other than that small closed place you call a mind) just…don’t.