blood is not thicker than water
as it turns out, maga is also a colorless, odorless gas, slowly suffocating the very life from us all.
for so long, i have tried to forgive the bigots & bullies around me, stretching myself thin to be kind, especially when they were close relations. but, from this day forward, my heart is closed. i withdraw it from those who have shown me they do not stand for me or for those i love. i know many of my own blood, as it’s called, have chosen to vote for maga. to them, i say: you are no longer my kin. you’ve chosen your allegiance, & it is not to me, it is not to kindness, & it is, by any definition, not for good. you’ve decided that the only lives worthy of freedom on this planet belong to cis, hetero, white men.
for generations, queer people have had to choose their own families because their own families turned their backs on them. tables turn. i, too, remove myself. i have spent too much of my life knowing that outside my immediate circle, i was alone — that blood is not thicker than water. how else could my own blood choose harm, all while cloaking it in a self-righteous veil of god? but if your god exists, she shut her door to you long ago. & if you’re honest with yourself, you know this; it’s why you cling so desperately to her, hoping for redemption.
the american experiment, as we once imagined it, is over. there will be blood, loss, & profound regret, & yet there will be no time left to absolve ourselves of this self-inflicted genocide. first, we’ll come for the queer community, then for immigrants, then the rest of the brown & black people who refuse to put whiteness first, then for the rest of the women, & finally, the climate we selfishly ignored will come for us all, finishing what remains. & when humanity is gone, i hope creation finds relief in our absence. when the animals return, the plants thrive, & the waters run clear, i hope that whatever evolutionary defect that allowed itself to produce its own cause of death, has learned not to make that mistake again.
so, to those i leave behind: i am not sad to see you go. i am exhausted from balancing your hate with my love on this brutal yoke i refuse to carry any further. as i let go of those who chose harm, i am grateful for my family who have never wavered & for the chosen family i’ve found — those who stand for justice, who remind me that true kinship lies in shared values, not just shared blood. as a kid, one of my biggest fears was dying from carbon monoxide poisoning. as it turns out, maga is also a colorless, odorless gas, slowly suffocating the very life from us all.
yeah, i know. you’re on your own kid. you always have been.
