Hey Goodreads Warriors: you cannot prop up a minority by putting down others

I just saw a friend of mine on facebook post a few quotes from emails she received after reviewing a book.

It was hate mail from six women towards her an African American woman.

The quotes were peppered with the word “Nigger”

and told her that she should, “…keep her welfare opinions to herself.” In the midst of telling her how they support the underdog (gay people).

 

Gay men don’t want that kind of help from people like you.
We don’t want your help if you are going to prop us up by being violent against another highly marginalized minority. Especially if, as women, you are violent toward another woman.

Getting support from people like you is like getting support from people like Donald Trump.

Because at the end of the day, you don’t give a shit about helping anyone. You’re here, to help yourself. Those books you write, ain’t to help the gay boys, it’s to help you make some money off of queer people.

The m/m community has been rife with issues and accusations of cultural appropriation on one hand and then accusations of men trying to tell women what they can and cannot write.

And it goes back and forth like a tennis ball. That’s why I left associating with most of it. Because I think they’re both, in a way, right.

I think there is cultural appropriation happening and there are women who are pissed gay men are actually writing in the genre.

And then there are misogynistic gay men who feel like they can dictate to women what they should and should not write. And then there are the author possies that run around like middle-aged gang bangers trying to defend ‘their turf’ and lose their minds over reviews.

If there is an author out there who you like, who gets a shitty review or a review you disagree with. You have no right to contact them and be cruel. Your author can weather that storm without your input. All you are doing is making them look bad.

The community was propped up as inclusive and wonderful. About people coming together to ….whatever….become self-aggrandizing little shits, Goodreads warriors, who will say anything behind a keyboard.

Shame on you and your stupid Racism.

So here is some advice. There is a tree outside of where you are right now creating oxygen for you to breathe.
Unless you have some revelation and get right with Jesus because that ass is so jacked up, you should go and apologize to it.

Are we not all human?
Are our features so different that we make people less than?
Even in our little world, in our little literary world, are we so privileged, as gay people, to let someone or a group of someones demean another based on her race?
Calling a woman a nigger is like calling one of us, a faggot
That reduces a person to a skin color or in our case, to nothing more than how we have sex.
And then to turn around and talk about how you stand for the marginalized?
What is wrong with us? That we would allow such ignorance?
No. It isn’t ignorance.
That was yesteryear.
Today its blatant and willful stupidity.
Do they not bleed and laugh and cry when the situations call for it?
Do they not dance at weddings? or sing lullabies to their children at night?
Then to be a woman and denigrate another woman when you yourself have been denigrated by men lo these many years? And told that you CANNOT and RIGHTS DONT BELONG TO YOU and YOU SHOULD KNOW YOUR PLACE.
Woman, don’t you know that you weren’t considered a full-fledged citizen in this country until 1971?
That your man once owned you?
That until the 1980’s you couldn’t get a credit card in your name without your husband’s permission.
That W-O-M-A-N was as freedomless as B-L-A-C-K
Your rights aren’t as reaching into history as mine has been. Even as a queer, I could hide that part of me and be more than you by the bit of flesh between my legs. But you, for your breasts and the womb that gives life were less than.
Sojourner Truth wasn’t just talking about black. She was talking about women when she asked, “Where your Jesus Come from?”
I can’t believe, I don’t want to believe, that with the advent of the internet and instant messaging and a world of knowledge at our fingertips – we still must deal in trading ourselves.
I want no part of anyone who thinks of me in better regard than someone else simply because of the circumstances of my sexuality.
I didn’t choose to be gay.
And I am certain black people didn’t choose to be black. Nor did you choose to be a woman.
Because, I gotta tell ya. In this day and age, even today, sadly to say, the prime real estate is STILL not in regards to the ‘fairer sex’ but in being a white, protestant, male.
Look around you, woman!
Look around you and see!
Simply in the political discourse the women who would bow their knee to a man who says, “Look upon me woman, and know thy master.”
There are women who would give away their right to self-determination and call that determination, murder.
By what standard? And who decides?
The men of your church organization?
I guess Thomas Jefferson was right, some people would prefer the calm seas of despotism to the tempestuous seas of liberty. But even if that is your preference don’t castigate your sister with names that would offend you, if someone called you , BITCH or Whore, or Slut or any other name meant to demean you and belittle you into being less than for opting to set sail into her own future.
Are we not all human?
Some days I wonder…

 

I learned to lie in Church (poem)

I learned to lie in church
as the prince in a white trash Shakespearean play
while others sought salvation,
I was an heir to an insane empire
in the midst of a feudal world

I have many skills on my life’s long resume
but the most important ones, the real go-getters
were tender age things
like espionage and subterfuge,
and how to do all of that with a smile on my face
and bile in my throat

I learned to listen with active ears
for nuance, for inconsistencies in tales told to me
and to catalog those things for future use
of who to speak to and who to stay away from
in this many act play’s one trick pony

It was an inverted Gilded Age lifestyle
where we carried on as IF we were all prestigious
the elite, the creme de la creme,
too poor to really be of any concern to the world
Inside we were dripping in promises of mansions made of gold
while outside was nothing but busted concrete and black eyes
gang bangers and drive-bys.

What a life, this little kingdom of ours
one in the midst of an archipelago that spanned the globe,
the world dotted with thousands other
tragic kingdoms
whose collective power influenced the greatest in this republic
who swayed democracy’s role
whose children screamed with smiles on their faces

I learned to lie in church
God forgive me
But I was good at it. I was so damn good at it.
After all, I had to learn how to survive.
for there is nothing more dangerous than to be an heir to a throne
where the kings were all mad as hatters
whose only judge existed, invisibly, in some far flung place in the sky.

A ghost ( Poem)

I once went to a cemetery
on an outing to hunt spirits, wraiths, and ghosts
to my surprise, on this dark and humid night
I found that there was division, out there, amidst the stones

See, this place was segregated
divided betwixt poor whites and poor black
and as i stood there among those who had come with me
I was astounded to see an iron gate that ran between this and between that

There were headstones of the same or similar color
both races had been buried six feet down
both had loved ones at one point visit
both had been missed when they were no longer around

I stood at the edge of two worlds literally one foot on either side
and asked my questions
a plead and a beg
that if a soul was present with me
to feel free to show me a sign

Well, black or white it didn’t matter
nor did it matter that the moon was full and high
No did it matter what skin color or station
of the spirit when he/she/it decided to pass by

But I do know where the tug on my pant leg came from
it came from my left, in the black section you see
and it was later when i was wiping the fear off my brow, my scream from my lips
that I realized it had been a black spirit who had been kind enough to come and answer me.