SandScript 2020

Myryam Roxana Freeman
Determination
Photograph, 8”x10”
you. The confidence of someone defying
roles set forth by a patriarchal society.
You’re the poster child for living your most
authentic self, loving every part of your
feminine and masculine nature. You got
just as many cheers as you did sneers, and
that feels like a small victory. Slowly, you
begin to recognize the inconsistencies in
your coloring, the darkness that vacations
under your eyes. You begin to recognize the
boy who lives under the martyr. And you
know you’re not really a poster child for
anything, but sometimes you feel like you
have to be. Sometimes you feel like you’re
not allowed to own your gayness without
the rest of the world owning a part of it too.
You feel like you spent years nurturing this
special part of who you are and it’s not even
yours anymore. You feel just like a tube of
lipstick. Something your friends can paint
on to prove their substance. They’re so deep
and cultured because their gay friend wears
makeup and dresses. They can’t possibly be
homophobic or bigoted when you’re their
friend. They’re allowed to poke fun at gay
culture because you feel the need to be
self-deprecating about your gayness when
you’re around them.
You throw on a large sweater
because it makes you feel daintier than
wearing a shirt and sweats; and you lay your
head down on your pillow. Your eyes begin
to feel damp as you think about it all over
again. You think about work, about classes,
about your friends and how much you miss
being around them, about your mom and
your sister and your nephews and how
you should tell them you love them more
often. This time when you think about it all,
there’s no shower to wash the tears just as
quickly as they come. There’s no extra water
for you to hide behind. And you feel lonely,
because out of all of your friends you’re the
only one who feels a little queer at any given
moment of the day.
VISUAL ART
131