Christina Thibodeau " 11/9/2016"

These are some things I need to say.
As I gaze with my siblings in horror
on all that has been and will be wrought.
I need to tell you
and I need to tell you
right damn now
that I am me.
I am beautiful and bisexual
genderqueer and generous
mentally ill and meaning to do something about this.
This fear that I feel pervading every single area of my life.
When I came out to my dad the day after /it/ happened,
the morning after contemplating suicide for the third time in three days,
in the light of the sun that still managed to somehow rise—
did I do it out of fear
or in spite of fear?
What were my intentions?
What was my motivation?
In outing myself
the day after I was shown the hate
the malice that half of our country has for me
Me and mine,
those of us who broke the mold.
that cliche metaphor that still holds true.
We were white hot metal,
poured into their perfect mold.
And when we cooled and hardened
the mold could no longer hold us.
And now they want to throw us back in the fire.
So I threw myself in before they could force me.
Since they’re already condemning me to hell,
I might as well dance in the flames, right?
What I’m trying to say—
What I think I’m trying to say—
What I hope I’m saying—
is that I am determined to survive this.
I am determined that /we/ will survive this.
These flames that are rising around us
cannot scorch us.
We are Meshach, Shadrach, and Abendego,
to steal their imagery.
We walk in the inferno
and are not scorched.
They will melt us down no more. 
And maybe that’s because our tears
extinguish the flames before they lick our skin,
But if it’s through our tears,
our cries for peace,
that this change comes,
then so be it.
I will scream all the louder
until each and every one of my
brothers and sisters and siblings
is free from the flames. 
Until that day comes.
Until that day comes.