We’re Coming (Out)

It is good to be seen as human in a world that continually discards us and continues to bury us alive. Most of us are already dead to our families. I’m not in the least surprised by the hatred I’ve encountered throughout my existence. However, I’m moved that there are people who see me as human in a world that demands I keep tucking myself in a grave of shame and guilt for breathing.

Perhaps one day there will be room for me to coexist with people on the African continent and the planet as my true self and be accepted. That said, my relationship with God/ The Universe transcends all human understanding and limitations imposed by church or state that limit my existence to something subhuman.
I have people that raised me in the church and those I grew up with that have taken the path of eternal condemnation of my existence. I tear to pieces every time I talk about it. But I’m steadfast and immovable in being anchored to my core.

I can’t begin to tell you how much work has gone into working with this heaviness that has weighed me down in the past. It doesn’t weigh me down anymore. It lives in tandem with my breath. It anchors me brave, it anchors me loved, it anchors me visible and grounds me enough to hold others who are struggling living in their own bodies.
We have been damaged by society, hetero-normativity, toxic religion, our own families. We keep working hard to survive ourselves. There are implosions of our souls everywhere we look, be we transgender, bisexual, lesbian, gender queer or anything else that the world won’t accept. Yet we stand. Continually.

A day shall come when we’ll all be human again. And nobody will care how we love, or who we consensually have sex with. I am furious at the pace it’s taking the world to realise that its footsteps are red with our blood. Or that the air is thick with our every decibel of scream. We’re dying. Dying to be loved too. Dying before we’re dead because we don’t exist to our families, communities, governments.
That said, we shall not be removed or erased. We’re here.

Frank Malaba © 2019

Image by Robert V. Ruggiero.