sorry

 

 

(i'm sorry matthew)

whenever i think about hate crimes i get really uptight, all paranoid and defensive and angry about whether i should even be talking about them. here's my score at the age of 27: one broken jaw; a permanent case of tmj; one concussion; one case of post-traumatic stress disorder; and a serious case of the heebie-jeebies when i walk by groups of people inside or on the street, specially if they make comments about me.

here's the catch: i don't know if any of the times that i've been attacked, physically or verbally, count as a hate crime.

the broken jaw was clearly motivated by the desire for stuff, he grabbed my purse as he ran away. so, economics, yes--yet why a blow hard enough to fracture my jaw in three places? i cannot help but believe, in my heart, that there was more than an economic motive. skin color becomes a possible factor, this man was black and i am pale. so does gender--here was me, at 19, in my little dress for work, not having learned yet to pass as a woman very well. i don't know if it was a hate crime, but whenever i bite down wrong and cringe in pain i can't help but know that i am a target of hate.

the concussion, then. three crewcut white boys in a youth hostel who tried to kill me and my girlfriend in an drunken-idiot way. the owners of the youth hostel who kicked us out for making trouble. our first crime was to argue with the white boys; our second was to accuse them before the owner. hate, yes. but again--which part of my identity were these guys attacking? the nerve of being a woman who told them to be quiet at 3 am when i was trying to sleep? the insult of being a dyke, of holding hands and giggling with my girlfriend in front of them? the offense of being a punk, purple hair in a long mohawk? the sin of being an arab, since i had talked openly to sammer about our fear during the gulf war?

damn shame that my attackers have never paused to fill out a questionnaire to let me know which part of me they are trying to hurt, which identity they hate.

the verbal attackers are clearer, they have a tendency to shout what they dislike about me, returning favorites are fag, and dyke, and cunt. well, yeah. when i'm in a good mood i can laugh it off, but when i lived in a neighborhood where i got it every time i walked out of the house it wore me down. so did the time somebody spit on me in high school, i waited til i got onto the bus and it drove away before i could bring myself to touch my hair and find the sticky evidence of their hatred.

yet i feel like a wimp when i even talk about this. i have friends who go through it so much more than me, every day, every week, so much worse. my worst attack is matthew's dream, i'm sure, while he was dying chained to that fence. not being able to eat pizza isn't much next to not being alive.

(i'm sorry, matthew, i'm so sorry.)

ah, hell, i don't know. i've got friends who i want to apologize to whenever i say the words "when i was bashed" (it's not as bad as yours, i'm sorry, i'll shut up now, it doesn't count like yours) and i've got friends who i sometimes hate for never being hit at all. i've never managed to fight back and i've never hurt the people who've hurt my loves, although i have dreamed of it.

i don't know that i have anything else to say, really.

 

jetboy jetgirl

not your father's
tampon

talking about
gender with my
brilliant friend
hanna

my existence is
not a weapon
against those i
love

matthew,
brandon, tyra, me

sorry

hot pink, leopard
print, lame?

open letter to
anything that
moves magazine

pinnochio

bisexual bigendered performance art thing


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