To Mom and Dad, I hope I can show this to you one day.
my identity was not an invitation for you to exoticize me
it didn’t hurt when you grabbed my face and pulled my eyes sideways
you didn’t alienate me to the point where I couldn’t recognize myself
I could stop blaming my otherness as a reason for my incompetence
- queer foreign woman of color
I know we never said I love you outloud But I heard them every time we laid together Curled inside your wrinkled sheets Even when it was quiet Even when I was mad Even when you slept with other girls I know we never said I love you outloud But I heard them every time we were sad and sat on that stone in the graveyard Even when I convinced myself I was just bored Or I was just a slut And that I couldn’t be gay I think we only exchanged unspoken i love you’s I love you’s that we said amidst stolen drunken kisses I love you’s that we sang when we pushed each other’s stray hairs back I love you’s that we whispered in warm white beds I know we never said I love you outloud But I heard it every time you told me And I love you too. by Peyton Dix
Their inflections parched of pleasantry Dates of subtle exasperation They run to the goat of (someone else) to survive The responses take a few more desserts to cross The thirst of the oasis on the other side And it’s organic it’s natural peaceful But But it’s sad because you’re still 12 And you don’t want to cling And you shouldn’t cling So you let it happen Then you let it happen And then you’re 21. - Deserted/growing apart by Hamad Al Badi
they say: be black and be proud! they say: be woman and be proud! they say: to be queer? question. quiet. quell. i say: i am inseparable i say: i am a blackqueerwoman i say: it again and again until it is loud i say: i am still working on being proud by Rraine Hanson
Slug In the night my heart fills up with you. In the morning our love comes pouring out into everything I do. You don’t know this, but at night when you’re deep in sleep I nuzzle my face into your neck, you know, my favorite spot where your smell pours out of your skin and fills me with such warmth and comfort I feel like bursting. And you’re snoring and purring and God, you are enchanting. You don’t know this, but at night when you’re sleeping I kiss your face and cry, not because I’m sad, but because I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while. I cry and sometimes my tears roll down your face, and so I try to brush them away before you find yourself awake.
You don’t know this, but at night when you are dreaming I’m holding your hand, which is limp and sometimes twitching, indicating to me that you’re real and you’re alive and you’re here. I hold your hand and I whisper to you: I love you, I love you, I love you. You don’t know this, but In the night my heart fills up with you. In the morning our love comes pouring out into everything. Everything. Absolutely everything, I do. And will do. by Xia Rondeau
Are We Queer Yet? Featuring: Hamad Al Badi Peyton Dix Rraine Hanson Xia Rondeau
Photos by Nydia Hartono
Photo Practicum 2016