I have no protest signs or support groups.
No one is petitioning for me in Congress,
Or campaigning for my equality in the hallways of my high school.
No one throws bible verses at me,
Or pushes me into lockers.
For the most part, no slurs are slung at me
No repent demanded.
But I face the same as every minority.
I am the Quiet Repressed
Lack of notariety only adds to my persecution,
I have no sisters in suffering to hold me up.
The insults called me
Are called by me.
Whispered in my mind when the fear flickers in someone’s eyes.
Freak. Unnatural. Too much.
I cannot hold a protest sign.
I cannot demand my rights from the people I’ve terrorized.
I cannot ask to be respected.
Do not think of me.
I do not live in you.
Deny my existence, suppress my need for understanding.
I am the silent presence, smothering all I touch.
And so, chaotic, I can touch nothing.
Nothing.
(Cassandra- “she who is ignored”)