Living in a Nightmare
I’m tugging at the edges of your shirt. Cleanly pressed, comfort against my semi-soft hands. The world around us feels so foreign: the streetlights bending at odd angles, crosswalks near non-existent, storefronts with blacked-out windows– as if what’s inside should be a mystery… the parade cutting through the street is strange; a combination of American patriotism and bigotry and “cultural unity”. One end of the parade is dead presidents and historical figures and reenactments of their tragic deaths – a dramatized (yet incorrect) assassination of Malcom X, the assassination of Fred Hampton, the assassination of John F. Kennedy… then to put a big ol’ blasphemin’ bigoted bow on it all, good ol’ crucifixion of Jesus Christ… With Mary weeping at his feet, but Judas is wearin’ a Klan hood, counting his silver with a gleeful face and a deeply troubled posture. The banner strung over the scene says, “Believe not in false idols…”
Then comes the second wave. Just as loud, just as scary– the military boys with their big ol’ guns. With severed Buddha heads at their backs on the float. Formations of swinging guns, real guns, hopefully unloaded… American flags… Following are shrines. Beautiful and ornate odes to Hinduism, Taoism, Judaism, Shintoism… a host of religions… and as they hit a certain point, they go up in flames. Slow controlled burns that grow brighter, kill the beauty of each representation. Watching Shiva and Kali Mata go up in flames, our eyes locked on one another… me with no true ties to the religion or culture, vehemently apologizing in prayer and sobbing from what others assumed was joy.
I was lost… and you seemed to not even notice for the moment. Too wrapped up in the shameless display of dick swinging, Americans get so lost in that they claim it’s patriotism. Murder and genocide are NOT patriotism. It’s dominance. Erasure is a play on power, and America does the shit well.
I can’t even watch by the time we get to the next segment. Your body, your choice. Fuckin’ liars… OBGYNs on floats with plastic versions of IUD’s throwing them into the crowd. The entire vaginal structure displayed on a float– vulgar if a woman made it, fine if a man did it. Ads running for mothers and fathers due to deliver their baby soon: “Worried about sex after childbirth? Worried she won’t be tight enough for ya? tell your doctor to add an extra stitch!” The disgust wells up in my chest so bad I wanna scream. Condoms rain down from the confetti blowers atop their floats. I catch one, noticing it’s almost void of the liquid/ lubrication condoms come with, and it’s popped and expired. Next comes the abortion haters… floats with the preacher screamin’, “if you lay down to take it, you can stand up and keep it!!”
Upon hearing this, I cry harder… terrified my day will come where the sentiment is directed at me. The streets are lined with screaming supporters. Supporters of their own eventual slaughter… and I am the only one who sees it. See’s the guns, the guillotines, the drugs– the drugs they put in the water, the guns in the hands of soldier and float riding civilians… the propoganda to boost child birth rates, the encouragement to harm marital bonds… the mocking of the deaths of political figures and activists with emphasis on black/brown bodies… the disregard for womens autonomy… the disrespect of religions.
God, it’s fucking falling down on us… the great tower of Babel. Generations ago you split our tongues to teach us differences. But now, you’ve turned away from us…and hell is where your creations stand, unable to love one another.
