Monday, September 12, 2016


You say you are a Wendy, and that you're sick of it. 
You are a Wendy because of all the Emotional Labor you've done
For the men in your house, for the transmen you date, for the masc women you hate.
You lament your privileged position, White cis girl. Educated woman. Liberated Femme.
You date only People of Color. You cackle that you haven't paid for a date, ever.
You don't pay for dates--you say it's a Femme Thing.
Nor do you buy your own weed.
You date transmen. And short, emotionally distraught masculine women. 
Behind their backs you call them Your "Pocket Butch".
You've forgotten that Wendy lived in Neverland!
Wendy is a spoiled rich girl. Wendy gets the guy, the house, the family, the World.
Wendy loves being the Highlander Femme (There Can Be Only One).
Wendy can fucking fly for chrissakes.
"The Bay" was your Neverland. It is where your People were. The people who understood you.
The Lost Boys you whelped are your devotees.
And you, who I thought was my friend
You who I knew for ten years +
You were not willing to share your fairy dust.
So you, Wendy the Leaseholder
Came to My Town and ousted me from the only home I knew 
For being "too masculine" and crying on the couch.
And had my art tattooed across your forearms
Without asking.
You, Queer World Destroyer.

No comments: