last morning in Austin.
This is the shirt my ex gave me after we ended due to her close relationships with racists.
This is the shade of lipstick I wear when my invisible armor is not enough.
This is the face I make when the world has a sense of humor about its cruelty.
I don’t always quickly and decisively stick up for myself. This guy was very drunk and his boyfriend was being mean about it so I tried to be nice but, as you can see, I was just not as prepared as I thought I was to be felt up constantly by a stranger who kept spilling his drink on me and pretending to lick my ass.
brown femme butts all day.
To the white ladies who laughed, pointed, and screamed, “let me take your picture!” and took it anyway when I said no and flipped them off: you been seent, and the part of you that feels so ugly and insufficient that it makes you try to hurt strangers is showing on your pasty, rapidly aging faces. To the black women who drove by almost immediately after, and leaned out the window to say, “you look amazing! Werk!”: you are magnificent, and I know that you knew you were feeding me. In a hostile world black feminine love is revolutionary sustenance. Thank you.