I came. I saw.
I presented, from the perspective
of the conquered.
No Romans or countrymen here;
just friends from all across Africa and beyond,
who knowingly suspect that I am queer.
And I am not here
for any agenda;
I am here because my abstract passed blind peer-review.
The rest doesn't
and didn't matter.
Except it also does.
What does it mean to queer boys in Ghana, Togo, anywhere where being yourself is still treated with so much fuss---
it means everything. Empathetically
to see these two beautiful brown brothers
showing that they can do anything
if they just hide their flowers
sometimes.
If they just stay quiet, smile sweetly,
and go along for the ride.
If they only reveal their true colours when the time is right,
and show themselves just to be
the same.
Staying quietly, smiling sweetly,
addressing everyone by name.
So many on this continent respect Singapore, sometimes for things we are now ashamed.
It was Singapore's turn to bow our heads,
raise our voices to heaven, and say
one day
you, too, will be free.
One day,
you, too, will have every opportunity
to lead your people
away from trauma, and hate, and every form of indignity
they visited upon us all.
One day, you will go to another country
far, far away:
a little island city-state, in fact
and you will stand tall
not because of us.
But because you, too, learned how to take your own kind of fall
and make the leap.
They call it faith.
We Singaporeans call it not always playing it so safe.
But we can agree to disagree
that in any language
it can also be called
sowing what you reap.
Changing the way the universe works:
finally growing up, and growing back toward the garden
we all know we have always wanted to seek.
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