Red Claw, from Villains Anonymous, by Lore Burns

Red Claw (they/them): Hello, my name is Red Claw and I’m a villain. It has been eight days since my last attempt at world domination…and I’m freaking bored! How the hell do you people do this? I mean, what’s-his-face, Decapitron, has supposedly been sober for five months?! I call bullshit. Is anyone actually following the creep around? Is there some sort of tracking system? How do we know he hasn’t fallen off the evil wagon? Is this seriously an honour code amongst villains?

I don’t even know what I’m doing here – I freaking love being a villain! The respect, the flexible work hours, managing a team of likeminded individuals…it’s bliss! I’m only here because the so-called ‘good’ guys managed to catch me off guard at a yoga class and slap a taser band on my ankle. I see a lot of you nodding, is that why you’re all here, too? And Miss Goody Two Shoes is the only non-villain in charge? You do realise that if we combined our evil talents we could overcome the taser issue and form a League of Villains more formidable than the world has ever seen? (silence). Wow, you desperately need me as your leader; all this hero brainwashing has clearly addled your brains. You know what? For the first time, I’m glad I wound up here. It’s proving to be a useful networking opportunity.

Context: At present this is a standalone piece, however it has been suggested I expand it and I am open to ideas and collaborations on that front. The general context is that heroes have started a rehabilitation program for captured villains, which seems to be working until Red Claw comes along and refuses to be swayed by the propaganda, instead forming a League of Villains and organising a mass break out from the facilities. Funnily enough, not all of the villains are what we in our world would call villains, but rather anyone who threatens the status quo as defined by the heroes, Red Claw wanting to abolish the gender binary being one.

Contact email: loreofphysics (at) gmail (dot) com

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

Donating is easy. >>Visit this link. Make sure to mention The Non-Binary Monologues Project in the notes section of the form, and you’re all set!

School Bus, by Erin Rollman

(written for a genderqueer performer) When I was in junior high, I lived only a block and a half away from school. It took minutes to get there, cut even shorter if I ducked through a hole in the fence and walked right across the small field next to the school building. But every morning I would leave home far earlier than necessary and walk 15 or so blocks in the opposite direction to catch a big yellow school bus. It seems silly to say now, but I did it in an attempt to be normal. I know, I know, but hear me out:

So many kids rode the bus. So many kids complained about riding the bus. It was a part of junior high culture and I was missing out because of the location location location of my home. I mean, I’m sure the proximity to a school is part of the reason my parents got the place. But, each morning I walked in the wrong direction in order to complain about my subsequent bus ride. And each afternoon I rushed out of the building in time to jump on the bus – unable to participate in this after school activity or that one, sometimes dashing out mid-conversation with an “ugh, bus”.

Needless to say, this did not make me ‘normal’. All it did was make my life more difficult. Of course, this should come as no surprise. Normal things – a nerve-wracking phrase, despite or maybe because of its lack of meaning – normal things are always wildly difficult. Isn’t it the case that you never feel more outside of yourself than when you are doing something you think you are supposed to do? Doing normal things is like playing a massive life-encompassing game of follow-the-leader when nobody knows who the leader is – their just sure it isn’t them.

Beat

Here are some other phrases I find nerve-wracking, only some of which have meaning:
fiscal responsibility
hang in there
life choice
truly humbling experience
crystal clear
not an exit
identifies as
and criss cross applesauce … Well, that one’s not nerve-wracking if you really just want me to sit down cross-legged. But if it comes with the assumption that I will be squirm-free and attentive, we might have a problem.

Beat

It actually gives me a little thrill that my young attempt to be normal was, in fact, very, very not normal. I don’t often ride buses at all these days. I sure as hell won’t walk out of my way to hop on an unnecessary one…

I mean that both literally and metaphorically, in case that wasn’t crystal clear.

More info: Erin Rollman is an all-around theatrical badass and incredible human. Learn more about her theatrical work at https://buntport.com/

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

Donating is easy. >>Visit this link. Make sure to mention The Non-Binary Monologues Project in the notes section of the form, and you’re all set!

Ash, from Poltergeist, by Alika Magas

ASH: Shift supervisor at a gay bar; an awesome kick-ass non-binary individual who knows a solid thing or two about the way the world really works. Very mature while somehow utterly inarticulate. They/Them/Theirs.

ASH. Hey Kitt, it’s me. Obviously. Hey, I, uh, well I just wanted to call and see how the

(HEAVY air quotes on this one, even if it’s not with their fingers.)

“hang out” is going. I still think you’re an idiot for doing this, so I don’t know if silence is a good thing or a bad thing and I’m not trying to like be a total queer dad-mom-parent-whatever about this or anything, I’m really not, you’re a big boy, you got this and shit like that. But. You’re always texting updates when you’re like this– Jeez. Sorry. Look at me, getting over involved in my friends again. Wow. Okay. Well, call me or text me or something? Just don’t do anything I’d tell you not to or regret or– goddamn it there I go again. I’m gonna hang up before it gets worse or the voicemail lady cuts me off. Okay. Call me back or something. Bye.

 

ASH. I’m so so sorry, Henry–

(A long beat. Relive the warning, the attempt, the long night in the hospital afterwards.)

–you were my regular for almost longer than Kitt’s worked there, and I– I should have known. Fuck, I was pouring that beer and… something was up, you’re always jittery but not like that and I didn’t do anything I just let you walk out of that fucking bar while I told my story and all I wanted was to get to the end. How messed up is that? You were sitting there, red flags might as well been on fire, and all I can think to myself is: damn, I hope he doesn’t make some dry joke or interrupts, he really needs to hear the end. I really need him to hear the end. But does it matter?

(Another beat.)

What matters is I was thinking that and you were…

(Beat.)

Can we talk about something else?

 

ASH. Hey Kitt, it’s me. Obviously. Y’all are probably still in the air. Lucky fuckers. Still love you though, any way, I just wanted to know if y’all had a safe flight so call me when you land or something and jesus I’m doing the queer dad mom parent thing again and I still really need to learn to stop with that don’t I? I guess, guess we both do actually. Don’t tell Henry I said this, he’d probably get all defensive and stuff, kid couldn’t take a compliment even if I wrote it into a screamo song, jesus christ, but I’m proud of you two. Like a lot. My two little babies are growing up. Okay that one was intentional, I’m not that bad. I’d like to think I’m not. But… uh… yeah. So remember to do some fun things while you’re out there, kay? I’ve heard Casa Bonita is actually a real place so maybe track that shit down and send me a few pictures or something. We could video chat on the Face time maybe? Okay that is like the single most old-person parent thing that’s ever come out of my mouth so I’m just gonna hang up now before I say anything else or the stupid voicemail lady cuts me off. But, really. Have a good break, smoke a joint, don’t let Henry get too angsty and–

(The voicemail lady cuts them off)

Goddamnit.

 

More info: alikamagas (at) gmail (dot) com

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

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K, from Gillian’s Bat Mitzvah, by Kevin Kantor

K. (they/them) I really don’t want to put you on the spot here Steph, but I’m callin’ bullshit. Girl. Bullshit, girl! You are not intimidated by me because you think I’m prettier than you, because well, firstly, we both know that survey says I am not. Granted it’s not a survey that I conducted. Still. You’re not intimidated by me, you’re made uncomfortable by me and not because I’m prettier than but because I’m pretty, period. And you didn’t know that pretty could come in this kind of package. It’s a horizon expanding kinda night. L’chaim! So how bout you offer me one of those smokes you think you’re hiding very well from everyone upstairs, we hit rewind, and we start being honest with one another because I love your brother but I need another ally up there. Yeah, I love him. And honestly, Steph, you smell like an ashtray. And you’re the most beautiful person in that room.

More info: KevinKantorPoetry (at) gmail (dot) com

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

Donating is easy. >>Visit this link. Make sure to mention The Non-Binary Monologues Project in the notes section of the form, and you’re all set!

Blue, from The Finality of Tits, by Avery Kester

BLUE. A friend once told me a joke and it was that dating when you’re queer is like looking for a job, you either do it online or you get referred. Pause now for laughter. Like a job too, people always seem to think there are partners everywhere just waiting for you to come and claim them, and when you don’t have one, all of your friends and relatives start telling you about a local place that’s hiring. My long resume doesn’t help me in the dating world, I’ll tell you what. So I have an account on Tinder. And OKCupid, they’re kind of the best ones to be queer on. Kind of messed up really. I’ve still gotten a lot of hurtful messages about how my gender is fake and I’m a liar and an attention whore. But what I’m trying to tell you isn’t really about that, it’s about what are called unicorn hunters. You’ve never heard of them? Unicorn hunters? What is this, dragons and dungeons? Well not quite my friend. Unicorn hunters are straight couples looking for a bisexual woman to join their existing relationship. She has to be into the same kinds of things as they are, but also have her own interests. She must be open to having sex with them, both of them, whenever they see fit. She must want more connection than just sex but also understand her place as an outsider to the relationship. Usually she must also be the picture of femininity and trans girls need not apply. She, like unicorns, doesn’t exist. Which is why they’re called unicorn hunters and not famed unicorn prize catchers. I am not a unicorn for many reasons, but chiefly because I am not a woman. Not a woman. Hello yes it’s me, genderqueer with tits, but distinctly not a woman. Look at me in this suit. This is a man’s suit. Look at me with my haircut. This is a trademarked genderqueer haircut. Really more of a zebra than a unicorn. Real but flighty and introverted. I know about the finality of tits. I understand that because I have them, everyone everywhere will always assume that I am a woman. I can’t afford to lose them anymore than I can afford to keep them, surgery is expensive. I think about cutting them off myself sometimes, when it gets really bad. But I’ll tell you, there is not much is this world that makes me feel as terrible as when I receive a message from a pair of straight folks looking for a unicorn. “Hey there cutie! My hubby and I are looking for a fun loving girl to join us in the bedroom!” Or “My boyfriend says you’re one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen! Can we take you to lunch?” I am not a woman. I am not a girl. I…. I’m… not a girl. And I work hard at that okay? I have manufactured this look, this walk, this manner of speaking. I know what I’m about and it’s distinctly between the binary. But even though I spell that out in the 500 character about me section on Tinder, they still say things like that to me. I spend so much time hating my body and wishing that it would fuck off. I don’t need the arrows of unicorn hunters to help me with that.

More info: Please contact the playwright Avery Kester (They/Them) at the following email address: averypkester (at) gmail (dot) com.

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

Donating is easy. >>Visit this link. Make sure to mention The Non-Binary Monologues Project in the notes section of the form, and you’re all set!

Puck, from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, by William Shakespeare

Puck Monologues from Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare–
Monologues from http://www.shakespeare-monologues.org/home

Puck (Act 2, Scene 2)

Through the forest have I gone.
But Athenian found I none,
On whose eyes I might approve
This flower’s force in stirring love.
Night and silence. Who is here?
Weeds of Athens he doth wear:
This is he, my master said,
Despised the Athenian maid;
And here the maiden, sleeping sound,
On the dank and dirty ground.
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe.
When thou wakest, let love forbid
Sleep his seat on thy eyelid:
So awake when I am gone;
For I must now to Oberon

Puck (Act 3, Scene 2)

My mistress with a monster is in love.
Near to her close and consecrated bower,
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour,
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,
Were met together to rehearse a play
Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial-day.
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort,
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport
Forsook his scene and enter’d in a brake
When I did him at this advantage take,
An ass’s nole I fixed on his head:
Anon his Thisbe must be answered,
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun’s report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky,
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly;
And, at our stamp, here o’er and o’er one falls;
He murder cries and help from Athens calls.
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong,
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong;
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch;
Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch.
I led them on in this distracted fear,
And left sweet Pyramus translated there:
When in that moment, so it came to pass,
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass.

Puck (Act V, Scene 2)

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

Puck (Act V, Scene 2)

Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate’s team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow’d house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door

Dramaturg Notes:

The character Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream serves many purposes. For Oberon, they are the faithful servant fairy who goes and does their bidding, in particular Oberon’s. However, Puck also functions as a mischievous, clown-like narrator for the show in its entirety. Though the plotlines revolve mostly around the humans in this show, Puck acts a connector for the audience. Though historically cast as male, Puck has been cast as female in numerous renditions of Midsummer Night’s Dream. One may consider that this is entirely appropriate considering the magical nature of Puck’s character as a fairy. As well, there are no specific texts which allude to Puck as either assigned male or female at birth.

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

Donating is easy. >>Visit this link. Make sure to mention The Non-Binary Monologues Project in the notes section of the form, and you’re all set!

Viola, from Twelfth Night, by William Shakespeare

VIOLA: I left no ring with her. What means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her.
She made good view of me; indeed, so much
That, as methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none.
I am the man. If it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we,
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly;
And I (poor monster) fond as much on him;
And she (mistaken) seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love.
As I am woman (now alas the day!),
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O Time, thou must untangle this, not I;
It is too hard a knot for me t’ untie.

 

Dramaturg Notes:

In this speech from Twelfth Night, the traditionally female character Viola is dressed in male drag so that she may work for the Duke of Illyria after her brother was possibly lost in a shipwreck. For non-binary actors, this speech could be taken in a variety of ways, as Viola consistently refers to themselves as a “man” and as a “woman”. Due to this consistent confounding of gender, this role could be played by non-binary AFAB or AMAB people (assigned-female-at-birth or assigned-male-at-birth, respectively). In doing so, the implications of particular relations within this speech could be complicated with respect to gender and sexuality. In the play, Viola is a woman dressed in male drag who develops feeling for the male Duke she serves, while Olivia (the Duke’s love interest) develops feelings for Viola. The possibilities for queering this speech are endless. As this a speech to themselves, there are possibilities to address gender, sexuality, and attraction from the outside, but also from within the character themselves; bringing attention to possible dysphoria or dissonance within Viola. Depending on the individual choices, any non-binary actor could use this piece as an active resistance to the hetero- and cis-normativity which are ever-present within Shakespeare’s work.

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

Donating is easy. >>Visit this link. Make sure to mention The Non-Binary Monologues Project in the notes section of the form, and you’re all set!

FUCK BUDDY: THE MONOLOGUE by Asher Wyndham

20 SOMETHING, any gender, race or body type. Heavily dressed for a winter storm: big hat with pom-pom or a trapper’s hat (the one with the flaps), mittens (not gloves),scarf, big boots, big coat.
Sniffles throughout.
 
Place: A cold apartment of a recent fuck-buddy.
 
Time: A brutal winter night.
 
20 SOMETHING.
Answer this one question.
After weeks of ghosting, why text me,
        (Looking at smartphone)
“come over watch some stupid cat videos on YouTube”?
Why?
(Imitating the other person:)
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
Why ghost me?
Don’t know?
Don’t give me “I was busy, uhh, community college stuff.”
Don’t tell me again “I’m reading some David Foster Wallace, really.”
No one finishes David Foster Wallace!
You rhino ­horny?
Orrr is there another reason?
Yes, I’m hot—even in the dead of winter, even in this—
                        (Meaning the entire winter getup.)
But you can get hot from your smartphone while taking a dump.
—Why do you want me in this cold room again?
Hunh, lazy eyes?
Do you wanna have some rough sex to see if there’s…not love…a, a “Deep Emotional Connection”?
Or…?
—ZIP IT!—I’M TALKING!
Do you wanna cuddle after screwing, compare childhoods, traumas, student debt, what what what!?
—Paws off, don’t touch, gimme…
                        (“a moment.”)
I…I wanna bang you, I do, over and over again in your pathetic futon until my head falls off—don’t touch.
…I miss your nipples…and the scaly, dry skin on your elbows…and your Fruit Loops breath…your atrocious IKEA furniture…        
                        (STOMPING.)
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
WHY DO YOU WANT ME HERE!?
Is it because you’re tired of being lonely…just like me?
You’re the worst fuck buddy!
(Takes off and slams one mitten.)
—Shut up, you always talk too much.
(The other mitten. And then unzips coat.)
Take off your slippers, noww.
You know I hate it when you wear ’em in bed.
(Untangles scarf.)
You know what’s happening, so take off the Big Foot slippers.
(Takes scarf off.)
We’re having hate sex—
(Slaps the floor with the scarf as if it was a whip.)
I’m going to give you the best hate sex, ever.
(Takes a bottle of lube from the winter coat pocket.)
Butter up.
                        (Tosses the lube.
                        Then tries to remove a boot which is quite difficult to get off, during:)
In the morning I’m not making you scrambled eggs, you are.
I’d like also veggie-­fruit-­mix with chia seeds, please.
Can you get off your dino ass, please, and help me with these boots?
                        (Still trying to get those boots off. End of monologue.)

More information: Please email the playwright if you use this piece for an audition: asherwyndham(at)yahoo(dot)com

Check out his plays on New Play Exchange: https://newplayexchange.org/users/3039/asher-wyndham

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

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Pasquale, from Couples Costume, by Sam Mauceri

PASQUALE (they/them). If you don’t end this relationship now, you’re going to get trapped in the Holiday Barricade. Think about it. Right now it’s October and you’re committed to a couples costume. Once the planning happens, there’s no way to bust out of that one without looking like a complete jerkwad. Think you’re free after that? Nope! Then it’s Thanksgiving, when you’ll have to meet the parents. Next is Christmas-slash-Hanukkah-slash-Kwanzaa. You’re going to buy each other gifts and you have no way of knowing if they’ve already gotten you a gift so you CAN’T break up. Then it’s New Year’s Eve and who have you made plans to smooch when the ball drops? Dominique. Next you run up against Valentine’s Day which has the same gift conundrum as your preferred winter holiday. There is simply no way out before that one. It’s either now or February 15th.

Context: This monologue is from the 10-minute comedy Couples Costume, which features 4 non-binary teenage characters. Pasquale is trying to help their friend Charlie rally the courage to end their relationship with Dominique.
More information: 

Donate! Your donations keep The Non-Binary Monologues Project going. We are pleased to announce that we have been selected as an Incubated Artist through Headlong. This means that your donations are now tax-deductible!

Donating is easy. >>Visit this link. Make sure to mention The Non-Binary Monologues Project in the notes section of the form, and you’re all set!

Cat, from Laced, by Sam Mueller

Cat, yelling from the stage.

CAT
Holy hell, there are so many of you!
Hey!
We’ve got no microphone tonight so I’m gonna need you to shut up!

            Cat waits.

(CAT)
Everyone have their glasses?
Raise them to the
Ladies
and gentlemen
and the actually interesting people here

Listen,
Some mornings I wake up
and I feel caught in the middle
feel the she, her, hers, and the he, him, his
waging a war in my gut
telling my they and them and theirs that they must choose
that the middle is just muck

But some mornings I wake up
and it doesn’t feel like the middle at all.
It’s something else entirely
It feels like slipping into warm flannel
and sipping chai while it rains
some days, fiercer
like slipping feet into
unbroken platform heels
clusters of muscles in my feet controlling plantar flexion
feeling the downward pointing feet pulling at muscles all the way up my leg
sometimes it feels like work, but
it takes work to become

On my clearest mornings,
They and them and theirs is a root
It grounds me
as both she and he
and neither she and he
both and neither

I don’t know where that leaves me.
I don’t want to make a mockery of the women who
Slip feet into soles and find it fuel for their woman-ness
Truth be told
I can be jealous of them
It’s simple for them
Uncomplicated
A feeling of being elevated
They find themselves powerful
but
Heels were made to be unisex
Ninth fucking century
Persian men wore heels into battle on horseback
A symbol of wealth
Of manliness
And I realized slipping feet into shoes
Was me preparing for the battle of being
Fighting
Ritual
It’s the last thing I do before stepping on stage
It roots me to my goddamn people
Like if I had the means to trace up my family tree
Could I find a member of the Persian cavalry that shares my name?
That maybe also felt between
and outside?

I tattooed a Persian Cedar tree on my thigh the day before I turned 21.
I held hands with myself
Clutched my own body for the two hours it took for the needle to leave all of the ink beneath my skin.
Dipping in and out faster than hummingbird wings
Watched as my artist poured their heart into my flesh
And I asked how long they’d been tattooing.
They looked young but they said twenty years.
And I said I couldn’t imagine doing anything for twenty years.
And they winked when they said
It roots me.
And we laughed at the irony of tattooing a tree as roots
And I studied the hard edges of their face
The shadows of a red beard creeping in
as they smiled and said
the art of creating,
it makes me feel so feminine, you know?
I just don’t see why I can’t be male and female
And neither male nor female at the same time, you know?
and I said
I know
Because I did
And they said
Namas-fucking-te.
The light in me recognizes the light in you
Like a beacon,
like a lighthouse
The fresh ink in my thigh leaving a dull throbbing reminder
a steady pulse of knowing
It didn’t matter what I looked like to anyone else
I could claim my femme
And I could claim my masc
They could exist together
And I could be complete

I only have one other tattoo
I went back to the same artist five years later
And they said
I was wondering what happened to you.
It’s so good to know you’re still
here
And they put three words beneath my tree
It says
Burn, Gender, Burn

So I kept painting my face
Covered up my brows
I glittered my lips
I extended my lashes so far
Past the clouds
and past the stars
and out of Florida
out of fucking Florida
and back in time
I wanted to butterfly kiss
Marsha
and Sylvia
and Christopher Street
and the femmes who came before me
the ones who spoke Spanish at home with their mothers
and yelled English to the cops on the streets
I want to séance with their ghosts
and thank them for the air I breathed
deeper and deeper
and deeper
and deeper
and deeper
and deeper
and

            Cat gasps.

I need to ask them why it is
Sometimes
So
Damn
Hard
To
Be
The
Person
I
Am.

Context: A flashback to the night prior at around 3 am as Cat (they/them/theirs) is on stage delivering a monologue in full drag.

More information: samanthadmueller (at) gmail (dot) com

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