Over the Rainbow

Excited, we hurried to the event. For months, she'd been sick Or had appointments; Every night, something came up. Tonight, she was well— A rare event with chronic illness. We were excited to be with queer friends. We arrived first, And I started talking with the lead: Plans for the night; Magic and adventure. But something was off. They eyed my wife. "Gender expansive" the description said. A perfect phrase for her: Unbound by gender norms, And punished brutally for it. And then they told her In their systemic way, "You're not welcome. You don't fit the mold." They didn't say that exactly, But she heard the message Below the polite phrasing, As they rolled back inclusion from her. And that's when my dear wife Switched to fawn mode. "I shouldn't be here. That's ok! I can pick you up later! Or earlier, if you want!" My sparkle goth wife, Whose mother pretended we weren't dating. Whose family hid that we married; Who is questioned why she "Can't just be with a man" If she's bi; Whose gender is, "Woman-ish?" Was insufficiently gender non-conforming for "safety". Safety. A word white folk confuse with comfort. A word the privileged equate with ease. A word so foreign to queerness Its meaning is lost in the scramble For power in the face of oppression. Safety is, "I have your back, Even as we argue." Safety is, "I will stand by you, Even if I can't stand you." Safety is discomfort in community, Because community is not comfortable. It is uneasy, Uncertain, Unknowing. And when they said, "Not you," I understood. This place will never be safe. So we left. And she cried. And I will never forgive them.