The Black Flamingo

by Dean Atta

What’s it like to survive death through your work? What’s it like to not know your father but still know yourself?

I’m thinking about going to Hell when I die and a living Hell on Earth.

“There’s always something. No matter how hard you work. No matter how well you do. How successful or respectable. There’s always something that will remind you you shouldn’t get too comfortable.

I come from deep issues and shallow solutions.

I come from being given permission to dream but choosing to wake up instead. I come from wherever I lay my head. I come from unanswered questions and unread books, unnoticed effort and undelivered apologies and thanks. I come from who I trust and who I have left.

Men are sandcastles made out of pebbles and the bucket is patriarchy: if you remove it, we fear we won’t be able to hold ourselves together, we pour in cement to fill the gaps to make ourselves concrete constructions.

“You both need to understand the black woman, black man, black trans person is always last to be thought of as attractive in this white supremacist society.

To have a loving family is to feel afraid and yet believe you are going to be all right.

If you’re unhappy in the closet but afraid of what’s outside, leave the door ajar and call out. If you’re happy in the closet for the time being, play dress-up until you find the right outfit.