I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
No matter how your world falls apart-and honey, that’s what happens: we all build ourselves a world, and then it falls apart-but no matter how that happens, you still have the kind heart you’ve had since you were a child, and that’s all that really counts.
(HERO, author of Gender Outlaw and Hello Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks, and Other Outlaws)
I believe that telling our stories, first to ourselves and then to one another and the world, is a revolutionary act. It is an act that can be met with hostility, exclusion, and violence. It can also lead to love, understanding, transcendence, and community.
(author of Redefining Realness, awesome, trans woman of color)