Punishment
I knew immediately once I saw the video where it was. In fact, it was immediately obvious to tell what happened in both circumstances. The regime in Washington is raping the minds of the world and Minneapolis in a new form of "info-fascism". Not only do the videos of the executions/murders serve as a message, but they also serve as radicalization events.
Apparently I even touched on the existence of the "dual realities" Americans live in the day before Renee Good was murdered. It plays in tandem with the 'dual state' that the Miller administration is foisting upon the marginalized and left-leaning of the United States. Since January 6, the gears of fascism have continued turning. They've now taken control of my favourite intersection, 26-Nicollet in Whittier. A fucking block from my house. Nobody knows the pain I have and I can tell that my therapist is in over their head. Minneapolis dared to stand up against injustice in 2020-21, and cut off some roots of the settler-colonial structure that is the USA in the process. Eternal doom must reign upon the land until order is restored.
It's a little disheartening to be 'right' in the end, when it's the end. My sister gets it now. But she wasn't there in Minneapolis. The cold rejection and dejection of the city between 2021-23 was unique in its own way. The punishment for being 'urban' and 'trans' that made up the media of that timeframe. My friends moved to the city along with refugees from elsewhere, and the community there is insanely based and can withstand anything. My friends are clearly willing to die for what's going on, and I am too. I still haven't collected my thoughts and I'm not sure if that's possible. I mean, how does one recover from war?
The pain will continue. The punishment will continue. I always think back to the AIDS crisis for a little historical refreshment. Our comrades struggled before against a world that rejected us, beat us, arrested us, and let us die for simply loving who we wanted to. They persisted and serve as an example for us today. It doesn't make this any easier though.
How can I move on from that humiliation? Crying on the cell floor, begging for mercy from my humiliator. I broke. I wasn't ready. Nobody is ready for that. Withdrawing, being forcibly detransed. How does one move on? I haven't told anyone and cannot. The fact that I broke in there is too much. They won. Boot in my face. The tears come now, soaking my shirt.
I exist in a never-ending spiral of contradiction. What is the point of continuing down a never-ending path of pain and struggle? I didn't smoke or drink tonight, is that why I'm dealing with this now? All this pain seems so normal now, and everyone always freaks out about how much it "must" be and gives me the ol' "I'm sorry" each time. They don't know what it's like to feel guilty for 5 years straight. From my perspective, the greatest struggles they face are meetings that go too long.
I'm done tracing the dots in order. I'm going from start to end.
The flashlight in my face. Holding my hands up. Bang at the door. "Get the fuck out!" Bruises. Broken glasses. Pain. The national guard bus. The Blue Lives flag. Photographs. Fingerprints. The holding cell. The nurse. The call. The shame. The hope. The hope. The hope. The hope. The hope. The tears. The lights. The call box. The tears. Mommy. The release. The numbness.