taking a moment to regroup

I am taking a me-time moment to relinquish myself briefly from the nonsensical paper I am writing (the one that is over a month late thank you), thinking about possibly having to cancel conference for the third time (with the same professor), and the fact that I am all out of caffeine pills. I think to say that I am freaking out is an understatement.

I am thinking back to the multiple instances in my life, reviewing identity politics, and asking, "How much of myself do I compromise to make this easier?" Being a woman? That's easy. Take my body and my sex. Make me one dimensional. Person of color? Assimilate. Queer? Let people think you're at the least heteroflexible- like mother once said of bisexuals: "At least you can still end up with a man". Sometimes I wonder what's left. I'm tired of protesting. In fact, I'm tired of the whole power play. Why can't we leave our genitals on the table before hitting the sheets, and just have sex? Like real sex. Peel back the skin and our lungs can hump one another. We can have a vat on the side of the bed for all sorts of secretions- no, ejaculate into every crevice and hollow so that even our eye sockets and nostrils can experience a little of what they've been missing. There is NOTHING beautiful about this, and likewise, the beauty of skin on skin and kissing and touching? That's just your mind playing tricks on you. Fuck the patriarchy. Fuck the white hierarchy. Fuck the bougies. And fuck me for once again, being the queen of non-productivity.