Juliet Takes a Breath

by Gabby Rivera

“You must walk in this world with the spirit of a ferocious cunt. Express your emotions. Believe that the universe came from your flesh. Own your power, own your connection to Mother Earth. Howl at the moon, bare your teeth, and be a goddamn wolf.”

America is an enormous frosted cupcake in the middle of millions of starving people

All the moments where I was made to feel like an outsider in a group that was supposed to have room for me added up and left me feeling so much shame.

We need to create our own understanding of divine presence in a world full of chaos. My God is Black. It’s queer. It’s a symphony of masculine and feminine. It’s Audre Lorde and Sleater-Kinney. My God and my understanding of God are centered on who I am as a person and what I need to continue my connection to the divine,” Maxine explained. She took a long breath. “It’s everyone’s job to come up with a theodicy. One that has room for every inch of who they are and the person they evolve into.”

Our entire existence is constantly being validated and yeah, we have lots of shit to deal with because of the patriarchy. But for goddess sake, check your privilege. We’re the ones that need to give women of color space for their voices.”

Libraries had zero tolerance for bullshit. Their walls protected us and kept us safe from all the bastards that never read a book for fun.

Maybe America just swallowed all of us, including our histories, and spat out whatever it wanted us to remember in the form of something flashy, cinematic, and full of catchy songs. And the rest of us, without that firsthand knowledge of civil unrest and political acts of disobedience, just inhaled what they gave us.

“Your one job is to just accept what a person feels comfortable sharing about themselves. No one owes you info on their gender, body parts, or sexuality.”

Her consistent linking of genitals to gender as an absolute is violent as hell. It’s a closed fist instead of open arms, you know? And besides,” she added, staring at herself unflinching in the mirror, “womanhood is radical enough for anyone who dares to claim it.”

You said reading would make me brilliant, but writing would make me infinite.”

All the women in my life were telling me the same thing. My story, my truth, my life, my voice, all of that had to be protected and put out into the world by me. No one else. No one could take that from me. I had to let go of my fear. I didn’t know what I was afraid of. I wondered if I’d ever speak my truth.

I am a racist fucking moron and any white person living in this damn country, if any of us tell you otherwise, is a liar and not to be trusted. You can be white and poor and racist as hell and wear your Confederate flags, and there’s rich white people who hide their racism behind homeowner’s associations and luxury condo income requirements. And then there are hippie gentrifying, well-intentioned whites like me, and none of us are better than the other.