That Which Does Not Kill Me…

Will Eventually Kill Me

I’ve always been challenging to control.

Not in the greater scheme of things. I obey. I got my degrees. I follow the laws. I pay my bills. I wear a bra under my clothes when I leave the house. I keep my fat body covered in public. I maintain a small smile on my face to negate white people’s social grenades. I am an obedient follower of many of the dictates of white supremacist patriarchal capitalism’s bullshit. I even married a white man which, somehow, makes me appear even more obedient than I am.

And it’s all a fucking waste of my time — except the husband because he’s always really kind to me.

I think about the amount of my life wasted silently appeasing white people. Not to be accepted, but to navigate and survive the only pathways available, knowing that they will continue manufacturing roadblocks, landmines, and kill squads specifically to eliminate me from this world. Knowing that there will never be peace, that the cruelty and destructiveness of white people will always insert themselves into my life and try to denigrate if not outright destroy whatever safety I’m able to cultivate. I think about all the fucking time I keep having to waste healing from these fucking anti-life cretins who feel entitled to my autonomy, time, and labor and know that I am choking on this rage…