Diseased (spoken word piece as performed at Camp Trans)
August 19, 2008
You call me sick
You try to tell me I am a man before you punch me
–Just under my left cheekbone–
And you yell, outraged, that the freak you trapped against the wall spit in your face.
Because, you might catch it. I hope you do.
Because transsexualism is a disease
It threatens you
It mocks you
It tempts you
It is a dis-ease in the truest sense of the word,
With doctors armed and ready to defend us all from infection and contain the contagion
Researchers at the Clarke are searching frantically for a cure to end this epidemic
–As if the cops and the courts weren’t doing a good enough job–
vaccinating our children with violence and self-hate
If we’ve got it, we can’t go to school till we’re ‘cured’
And it hardly looks good to show up sick to a job interview.
They can give us drugs to “alleviate discomfort,”
But they can’t make it go away.
No, we’re quitting this quarantine
And we will spread our sickness around the world like the plague that it is–
A plague on coercion,
A plague on state control,
A plague on sexism and gender roles,
A plague on your categories and naming,
But most of all, a plague on your authority.