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Sunday, April 21, 2024
The Observer

There's queer blood on homophobic hands

Your homophobic discourse soiled my air supply your ivory tower theology slit my loved ones’ throats I'm trying to go to class without dead friends in my backpack just trying to touch my girl’s shoulder in the grass you want to un-affirm me to "lobotomize me with a crowbar" well the murdered trans angels (18 this year yet) leak brimstone into your praying mouths Young Americans for Freedom Child Oriented Policy Sycamore Trust Irish Rover your cowardly pontification is a cultural bullet at the gay massacre you burned us you beat us in alleys you watched us die of AIDS and yet I'm here, laying waste to your reproductive futurism I'm here in class with my gender on my sleeve and centuries of dead queers in my old navy backpack if you want me gone come to my dorm room, you are going to need and a backbone and better words you are going to need a much bigger crowbar.

Audrey Lindemann


Sept. 19

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.