Staceyann Chin's speech/poem at Gay Games VII

Being queer has no bearing on race

or class

or creed

my white publicist said

true love is never affected by color

or country

or the carnal need for cash

I curb the flashes of me crashing across the table

to knock his blond skin

from Manhattan

to Montego Bay to witness

the bloody beatings of beautiful brown boys

accused of the homosexual crime of buggery

amidst the new fangled fallacies

of sexual and racial freedom for all

these under-informed

self-congratulating

pseudo-intellectual utterances

reflect how apolitical the left has become

I don't know why

but the term lesbian just seems so

confrontational to me

why can't you people just say you date

other people ?

Again I say nothing

tongue and courage tied with fear

I am at once livid

ashamed and paralyzed

by the neo-conservatism

breeding malicious amongst us

Gay

Lesbian

Bisexual

Transgender
Ally

Questioning

Two spirit

Non-gender conforming—every year we add a new letter

our community is happily expanding beyond the scope

of the dream stonewall sparked within us

yet everyday

I become more afraid to say black

or lesbian

or woman—everyday

under the pretense of unity I swallow something I should have said

about the epidemic of AIDS in Africa

or the violence against teenage-girls in East New York

or the mortality rate of young boys on the south-side of Chicago

even in friendly conversation

I get the bell hooks-ian urge

to kill mother-fuckers who say stupid shit to me

all day

bitter branches of things I cannot say out loud

sprout deviant from my neck

fuck you-you-fucking-racist-sexist-turd

fuck you for wanting to talk about homophobia

while you exploit the desperation of undocumented immigrants

to clean your hallways

bathe your children and cook your dinner

for less than you and I spend on our tax deductible lunch!

I want to scream

all oppression is connected you dick

at the heart of every radical action in history

stood the dykes who were feminists

the anti-racists who were gay rights activists

the men who believed being vulnerable

could only make our community stronger

as the violence against us increases

where are the LGBT centers in those neighborhoods

where assaults occur most frequently?

as the tide of the Supreme Court changes

where are the LGBT marches

to support a woman's right to an abortion?

what say we about health insurance

for those who can least afford it?

HIV/AIDS was once a reason for gay white men to act up

now your indifference spells the death

of straight black women

and imprisoned Latino boys

apparently

if the tragedy does not immediately impact you

you don't give a fuck

offer a social ladder to those of us inclined to climb

and watch the bottom of a movement fall out

a revolution once pregnant with expectation

flounders

without direction the privileged and the plundered

grow listless

apathetic and individualistic no one knows

where to vote

or what to vote for anymore

the faces that represent us

have begun to look like the ones who used to burn crosses

and beat bulldaggers and fuck faggots up the ass

with loaded guns

the companies that sponsor our events

do not honor the way we live or love

or dance or pray

our life partnerships are deemed domestic

and the term marriage is reserved

for those unions sanctioned by a church controlled state

for all the landmarks we celebrate

we are still niggers

and faggots

and minstrel references

for jokes created on the funny pages of a heterosexual world

the horizons are changing

to keep pace with technology and policy alike

the LGBT manifesto has evolved into a corporate agenda

and outside that agenda

a woman is beaten every 12 seconds

every two minutes

a girl is raped somewhere in America

and while we stand here well-dressed and rejoicing

in India

in China

in South America a small child cuts the cloth

to construct you a new shirt

a new shoe

an old lifestyle held upright

by the engineered hunger and misuse of impoverished lives

gather round ye fags, dykes

trannies and all those in between

we are not simply at a political crossroad

we are buried knee deep in the quagmire

of a battle for our humanity

the powers that have always been

have already come for the Jew

the communist

and the trade unionist

the time to act is now!

Now! while there are still ways we can fight

Now! because the rights we have are still so very few

Now! because it is the right thing to do

Now! before you open the door to find

they have finally come

for you

Ladies Who Lunch

Poem by Precious Jones

Park Ave socialites

who attended Sarah Lawrence,

Vassar, or Yale,

played tennis, had wedding

engagements announced

in the New York Times

married Harvard grads

who pledged Kappa

and come from good families,

married men who work on wall street or

in midtown investing rich people’s money,

investing their own money

These ladies are on boards

and join committees,

and give speeches, they

have fundraisers,

have their names

engraved in wall tiles at

MOMA and/or

Lincoln Center , and/or

The Metropolitan Opera House,

attend every theatre opening,

every gallery opening, they

wear pearls to brunch and

diamonds to dinner, they

eat rack of lamb,

shark fin soup.

These ladies go to auctions

At Sotheby’s and bid on

wine goblets from

18^th Century Europe

and baby Buddhas from 19^th Century Asia.

They are polyglots

They own villas in Italy ,

own islands as big as Manhattan

off the coast of some

poor South American country.

The paparazzi take their pictures,

we see them in the New York Times,

we see them in New York Magazine,

in Vogue,

in Mademoiselle

at galas, black and white affairs,

debutante balls.

They never leave Manhattan , these women,

have chauffeurs who drive them

(up and down Broadway in Lincoln

town cars with dark windows)

to the Prada store

the Coach store

Bergdorfs and Bloomingdales;

Diane Von Furstenberg and Vera Wang

Hang in their walk-in closets,

are personal friends,

they have personal shoppers

and personal assistants,

live in doorman buildings in “safe”

(that is to say rich, white) neighborhoods—

the Upper West Side ,

(and now the) West Village —

they hire Ecuadorian maids

and Trinidadian nannies.

they have tenth, twentieth, and fiftieth

wedding anniversaries

sleep alone every night while their husbands

are at the office

doing work,

doing women

These ladies never leave Manhattan , have

never been to Brooklyn ,

though their husbands own property

in Park Slope and Cobble Hill,

the only queens they know are

Elizabeth and Victoria,

Bronx is where the Yankees play,

Long Island is an iced tea,

not that they care cause they

never leave Manhattan ,

they never raise their voices,

their hemlines,

their children, they

never leave Manhattan ,

never dream in color,

never laugh at stupid jokes,

they never hug,

never kiss,

never fuck,

and never orgasm.