And They Call it Puppy Love

Silently we drive, miles and miles of nothing between departure and destination. The air is shimmering between us with the heat of all that has been said and the threat of what is yet to be said. The radio is playing an oldie, Donnie Osmond crooning about Puppy Love. But puppies don’t love here and hitch hikers wouldn’t ride here preferring the desert to the sweltering hell of our demise. Tires eating highway flashing past the window, sun as bright as white. Cactus, dirt and more dirt and how these barren mounds could be called mountains escape me. I’m yearning for the lush green of eastern hills, yearning for the verdant forest that was us. The barren landscape fosters thoughts of insanity, maybe murder, could be suicide when suddenly rescue looms on the horizon. Standing guard over this asphalt ribbon an ancient, weathered, stumbling abstract of the shiny Shells, Valeros and Texacos. The flying red Pegasus on the sign long past days of flights of fancy, rusty gas pumps lying in wait for the next thirsty stranger come limping in. The old man sitting out front cracks his face wide apart in a smile of anticipation, be it company, income or both. Switching off the engine I go and open the trunk and claim my suitcase. She’s standing outside the car now, impatient to know how long I have been crazy. I kiss her cheek, pressing the keys in her hand and I tell her she’ll have to go on without me. Pleas, entreaties, anger and obscenities I stand serene watching as finally she relents pulling away in a violent rooster tail spray of gravel. The Donnie Osmond song is looping in my head. And yeah, they call it puppy love, but puppies grow up and sometimes they don’t love you anymore when they do. 

6-14-12 (c) Romo

Disclaimer: This is not about anyone. I'm exploring prose poetry. Sometimes, well quite often, we writers just make stuff up...lol. 

Mic Check for the Gate Keepers

Any who claim that their work is in the name of justice must be held accountable to remember that justice does not mean "just us" it means ALL OF US! The work of social change is not for the few and/or those with access to greater privilege and resources. It is not acceptable for “gatekeepers” to decide who passes through the doorways of social justice work with acceptable forms of oppression and/or expression of their resistance to injustice.

When told once more to “wait” by those who call themselves allies to the LGBTQ community or those who are members of the LGBTQ community I am reminded of Dr King’s words in his letter from Birmingham, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial "outside agitator" idea."

To silence voices out of fear of what others will think within the realm of social justice work allows the purveyors of injustice to prevail. It allows myths and stereotypes to reign as truths. And the hearts of those told once more to “wait” crack a little wider and a little bit deeper. When Dr King was asked to wait he responded thus, “For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant "Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that "justice too long delayed is justice denied."

I do not claim that our reason for struggle as LGBTQ people is the exact experience as that of African-Americans. There are many vast differences in our experiences here in America. But what is indisputably the same is that simply for being who we are; our humanity has been consistently denied, we have been attacked verbally and physically by pulpits, legislators, bullies and murderers, we must always size up a space and assess its “safeness”, we struggle with employment, housing, medical care and public accommodations, we too have suffered the creation of special laws made to intentionally disenfranchise us and despite our birthright as citizens we are denied full access and responsibilities under the laws of our country.

The frustrations voiced by Dr. King concerning those who called for him to wait, those who wanted him to work only within the “system” these sentiments echo within every fiber of my being as a queer woman working for equality. My tolerance for those asking me to wait, not rock the boat, not upset others in social justice work by asking for LGBTQ inclusion, and to work only within the good old boy system have been ground to dust. There is room for all of our voices, all of our needs. There always has been enough for us all. Ultimately the exclusion of some of us from the tables of justice serves only those who prosper from our internal dissent.  

We must have those difficult conversations within the realms of the social justice arena here in Arkansas. It is by sharing these hard talks, by learning about who we are as people and not "those" people" we better understand our common humanity. We learn that that we move forward together for the good of all. And just as importantly we must hold our own LGBTQ gatekeepers accountable as well. We all bring something to the table. All of our efforts matter and the sooner we get that, the better we will be able to work with and for our beloved communities.