Honestly, I didn't know until I was thirteen,
and didn't accept it until I was months away
from becoming the 35th Vice-President of the Catholic Affairs Wing of the Catholic Junior College Student Council,
but you're not me.
And maybe, if you accept it earlier,
you'll go easier on you.
I didn't say life.
When you're queer, everything conspires against you,
for reasons that should be too intergenerational to be right,
and yet are the only possible explanation for all the spite
the violence
the violation
the terror
the abominations
that claim they were doing right in the name of the divine;
in Kristang we have a name for these,
and it is simple, and even sounds like English:
bloody fucking swine.
So the next time the President or whoever appears on TV and doesn't address your needs,
ignore them all.
Nobody cared about you or me,
and so likewise;
take your talents elsewhere,
where they actually live and practice rationality.
I was thirteen, and seventeen;
you might be twelve, or seven, or (I have heard) even three.
It doesn't matter.
You can be age, race, religion or nationality:
pra fikah jenti hierosa,
let the leader of the Kristang people of Singapore tell you
it is very, very okay to be you and me, and anyone in between.
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