LGBTQIA+ – Void Engineer

Monsters lurk the lines of my fiction because it is how I cope with a world on fire. I remember as a child learning about the Civil Rights Movement and thinking, “why did that happen? Why did they hang those people? Why did they kill that man speaking up for justice?” I was confused but assured “it was over. Justice won.”

It’s not over. It never ended. The problems of inequality and injustice persist, not only for Black people, but for non-white, non-heteronormative, non-Christian, non-conservative humans. More people are pushing back, demanding justice, but those in power, the same who murdered MLK, Jr., Medgar Wiley, Lemar Smith, Harvey Milk, and countless more, have reignited the fires of hate motivated violence in an attempt to end the push.

For many years, I was ignorant of the unfathomable depth of inequality and injustice in America. I was naive, and so surprised by the number of voices rising to the provocation of power—not to resist that wicked power, but to uphold its scaffolding and institutions, to protect the bloodied hands of the powerful.

Comedian, playwright, and novelist Ben Elton once said: “With privilege comes responsibility, you must understand that.” I wonder if this is why so many disenfranchised people are rising up to protect and defend the atrocities of the powerful. They have benefitted from the current institution. They are privileged in this arrangement, and so they feel it their responsibility to uphold it—ignorant of how the same system is also killing them.

After two decades of work, I have become conscious of my privilege, but my responsibility—my duty—is not to the system, not anymore. My obligation is to humanity. I do what I can to ease suffering in small and seemingly insignificant ways, but these little acts add up quickly.

If we could do our small part together, at once, the impact would be a stone in Goliath’s brain. We would rock the world. Imagine, for one week, we refused to participate in capitalism—get only the barest of essentials from the most ethical businesses. It would be a strike at the wallet of power. They’d feel it. Now imagine if we maintained that pressure.

Right now, orcas in the middle of the ocean are sinking the yachts of the wealthy. It is an ironic twist to witness whales campaigning to “Save the Humans.” Truly, things are far worse than we realize. But if the whales can do their part, should we not do ours?

The monsters wandering between page and pen are how I cope with a world on fire. These creatures can be stopped. Their objectives can be disrupted and subverted. I can save the world from them, but the real monsters, those monsters can only be stopped if we work together.

This photo still enrages me. I took it in the summer of 2021 outside Kingsburg City Hall. The sea of, mostly, older white faces, armed with American flags, Bibles, and an illiterate understanding of American history were joined by far-right hate groups such as the Proud Boys, 1776ers, and others, to oppose a Pride Month proclamation in the City of Kingsburg. The grueling three-hour spectacle saw these “patriots” engage in anti-patriotic and dog-whistle-laden rhetoric.

The American flag was weaponized and used in a manner not dissimilar to the symbols of hate waved about by white supremacist hate groups. In a display of irony, many of these white (and Evangelical) individuals spoke to the American flag as being all inclusive while actively seeking to exclude what they understood to be a social other, an enemy of America. Several opined they would be called bigots as they spewed bigoted speeches to oppose recognizing Pride month in their small town.

I couldn’t help but notice how many referred to passages in the Bible with the same fervor of those who had once used scripture to justify segregation, bans on interracial marriage, to stand against feminism and the right to vote for women, justify slavery, ignore police brutality and murder, etc., etc., etc. It was the same tired arguments to scapegoat their little god as the source for the hate they called love.

Others appealed to a slippery slope argument, claiming that allowing the Pride flag to be flown would cause all manner of requests for other flags to be flown. This argument, of course, is born out of ignorance. First, such requests are not being made. Second, the only ones who seemed to want to fly other flags were those who came to oppose both Pride Month and the flying of the Pride flag–and the flags they proposed were ones of hate and intended intimidation–the same sort of bullshit that saw statues of Confederate generals and figures erected all across the south during the 1960s Civil Rights Movement.

This particular moment sparked a radical change in my personal life. I, along with several others, joined with the council member who proposed the proclamation to organize and host a Pride celebration in the City of Kingsburg–which we did with great success. But also, I found it incredibly important that I weaponized my white privilege and my less-than-humane past to confront the white supremacy, bigotry, and systemic bias deeply embedded within my community and the communities surrounding my own.

This turning point made it clear that I could not simply be silent on matters of marginalization and oppression. I must act. Whether that means helping organizations that combat injustice, calling state and federal representatives, or simply calling out fucked up behaviors in the public space, I have to act.

It has been a long journey, and there is still much work to be done, but, in a way, I am glad I was forced to confront this evil head on. It’s made me a better, more compassionate, and a more loving human.