tiny and brown

On December 31, 2014 by pampi

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I refuse to see movies these days
No matter how good
They inevitably feature Whiteness making its way heroically
I don’t watch them –
not out of bitterness –
Out of self preservation

No matter how I see them
It’s the same tired story
Modeling what my life should look like
And my life looks nothing like anything I’ve ever seen onscreen

For three decades my dreams and fantasies were high jacked
And my bed too

And since I stopped watching and consuming
I started living. I had the time to.
And then very intentionally it dawned on me to start loving myself
and into my life flooded these tiny brown men who wanted to love me too
They were strong and sure
and perhaps insecure that I would reach for them
But I did
I was so stunned because I didn’t know this was possible
That a tiny brown woman could love a tiny brown man
And just like that my fantasies became decolonized

I dream about these darling men
I desire their arms about me holding my tiny brown body tight
their mouths searching and knowing every part of mine
My hands hungry for every bit of theirs
we play and tumble giggle and coo

I was no longer loving the Conqueror
a reconciled learned love
such a release – a tremendous burden lifted

Good riddens and thank goodness
I am loving myself

Now I’m adamant to stay out of movie theaters
Because I am guarding my fantasies
Until the day comes when there are equal parts movies featuring brown on brown casting –
and not under the apologist thumb of oppression –
forget it!
I’m not an island
I enjoy sweet tender men of all colors
But loving brown men somehow matters more to me
Because in doing so I matter

until I can go and see a love so miraculous in its scarcity
when it shouldn’t be
on screen
forget it

It is difficult enough as it is
Suspicion superstition ignorance
In the name of control
Patriarchy poisons our men.
Our own Societies poison our men to distrust women.
And not be able to love their own women.

And then the fat cats say we don’t understand.
(and you know they’re right: in having oppressed our own we divided and conquered ourselves
making ourselves vulnerable
in oppressing our own neighbors as spiritually impure, terrorist infidels, dark-skinned tribal pagans
we strangled the femme just a little bit more)
we don’t understand the police are good for us
we don’t understand our religions are rooted in violence
we don’t understand how the world works
you know? We don’t understand satire
Patronizing fucks.

Until we might come and see our story played out
A tiny brown woman as lead finding a tiny brown male lover as hers
They kiss and cuddle tease and please

When that inevitable lovemaking scene finally happens
It will not be presentational
We wouldn’t even be able to see a damn thing. not a tit.
How tightly wrapped they would be
But we would know
Magic is abounding
We would be rooted unable to leave
shaking wanting to flee
Because our breathing will become labored
We would stumble out of the theater
won’t be able to forget
Because we would be moved

Moved enough to change our whole fucking life this whole fucking world
So that a tiny brown woman can unreservedly love a tiny brown man
Because we would finally know love like that can be possible in this world
The love between a tiny brown man and a tiny brown woman

The love ubiquitous between villages of our ancestors’ ancestors
can we go back far enough where such a love was truly known?

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