Ya Know, I Don’t Get It.

I’ve never walked down the street and wondered if someone was gonna chuck a brick at my head because I looked Muslim-like.

I’ve never gone to a high school where I worried about some maniac charging in through the door to shoot me and my friends dead.

I’ve never hugged my partner in public and had to worry if I was holding them too close, because some idiot might take a baseball bat to us if he saw queers being affectionate.

I’ve never had to scan a parking lot at night before I walked to my car because some douche might rape me.  I’ve never had to measure my drinking because if I passed out, someone might rape me.

Hell, I’ve never had a bad poly experience.  My friends were all tolerant, and cool with it.  My mother and father are supportive, if a bit baffled.  I’ve never had a family member tell me what a pervert I am and how I’m going to hell.

The truth is, a lot of bad shit happens to other people that I have never experienced directly.  I can’t get it, deep down.  I can make mushy parallels, understand these things *happen*, but I can’t really understand what it’s like for the seven hundredth time to say “I’m from San Francisco” and have some person squint at my Asian features and go, “…but where are you from?”

Whole worlds are cut off from me.  I have it pretty good, in many ways.  I don’t get the full experience.

But you know what I can do?

I can fucking listen.

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