Our family.
This week family has been broken. Heart-broken. Re-broken. Open.
You’re family.
That’s what we say. “She’s family.” “He’s family.” “They’re family.” “They family?” So we know. Who’s with us. Who will understand. At least that much.
We are family.
A family that does not have equal access or equal rights as one another. A family whose members do not all share the same privileges. A family that has let each other down and a family that has held each other up.
We are a deeply imperfect family.
One that needs to do better. One that needs to hold each other closer. One that needs to fight harder for one another. One that needs to remember that none of us are free until all of us are. And you can’t get married if you are getting deported, incarcerated or murdered for being transgender, for being anything but white or for being born outside of these false borders. We are a family that needs to fight like hell to make sure that our differences are held with equal rights, equal respect and equal humanity. And we can do that. We owe each other that much, after all this time.
We are a family that has survived. And we will keep surviving.
Brought to the brink of extinction. We come back. Fighting. Thriving. Loving. We have made ourselves beautiful in the face of hatred. Thrived on foundations that have denied us our right to exist.
We are a family with no home save for the ones we build for ourselves. Homes on the periphery. Out in the margins. Way back in the corners. Where you couldn’t find us.
Way up in the bright lights too. Spotlighting our rejection of your rejection of us. Blindingly beautiful. Like the sun. We are brilliance.
Not gay as in happy, but queer as in fuck you.
We are that kind of family.
With no family. Thrown out. Like trash. Like old news. Like rotten milk. Unfed. Unloved. Unwelcome. Home.
We are family that is made out of what was left of us. We are family remade from the love they couldn’t get rid of. This love you cannot get rid of. Queer love never quits.
We are family.
And when I see family on the street, holding hands, kissing, loving, I am made safer. Your love makes me safer. Our love makes us safer. Don’t stop loving.
And our love is not enough.
Because each time we love out loud. Each time we out ourselves, and we do, a million times a day, we are made vulnerable to their violence. To their ignorance. To their toxic masculinity. To their violence that is upheld by far too many laws and policies. And by your silence.
Who could we be, what we would be, if we didn’t have to protect ourselves, defend ourselves or be on the lookout for ourselves?
We have not yet won the right to know ourselves like that. And that’s on you, too. That’s on us all.
Because wether you like it or not, we are your family. And you are ours.
We. Family.