June 30th 2018 - Paris
First time attending Gay Pride
I saw how liberated one can be, when one has courage to liberate
oneself.
We’re all imprisoned by our false beliefs, by our bodies, by
our cultures, by our childhood traumas, by shitty parents, by abusive ex-husbands,
by crappy ex-lovers, by the poisonous lies our restless minds smother us with.
We each have one story, one story. We like to believe we’re
different from who we were in the past. We say 'it was another lifetime',
but unlike milk teeth, we don’t shed our bones, where our stories
quiver, the way temple pillars ache with the screaming echoes, and pleading
murmurs of the damned and the lonely.
We want to be seen, we want to be proud of the shame that
defines us, we want to burn all the shame that doesn’t, we want to be as brave
as the LGBT community, we want to shout, ‘look at me, I’m not trapped in the
wrong body but I bleed’, ‘look at me, I’m not attracted to people from my own gender but I
hurt’. Instead we stand silently on the sides, sidewalks crowded with reasonable people, sensibly dressed, we cover our shame
well. We smile, we wave, we take photos, we chant our support, hoping one day
we will be liberated too.
