Introduction
The following post is the script of a spoken word poetry monologue I wrote and performed this past spring as part of a final performance with Peers for Pride at UT Austin (a theater-for-dialogue peer facilitation program around topics of and relating to queerness). This was a really hard one for me – to write and to perform – because it’s so real. At the time I wrote this, Israel had already used October 7th as rationale for committing an ongoing genocide in Palestine. A few weeks after I performed this I was nearly been arrested for protesting this genocide and UT’s need to divest and end its complicity. One of my best friends had been arrested. Cop Cities were advancing across the country. UT had decided to close the queer students center officially, many of my favorite teachers and staff had been let go, and I felt so much rage. It’s taken me a while to recognize that rage can be good and healthy and right. I was taught that anger was an ugly emotion. That you shouldn’t express it. That you shouldn’t feel it. But anger at its core tells you when there is something you can’t tolerate. Goddess, may I be given the courage to change the things I cannot accept.
I wanted to share the monologue I performed. It’s not perfect. It’s not necessarily even complete. It ends in not too hopeful of a place. But I think it has power and importance as it is. I hope you can read this and lean into any discomfort that comes up. I also advocate for you taking whatever it is you need – if you need to close the page, take some time to breathe, whatever you need.
Structure of this post
- The Monologue
- Some Care For After the Read
- Resources on Writing a Spoken Word Poetry (SWP) Monologue
The Monologue
Let’s take a breath together before we keep going. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Try to make the next exhale just a bit longer. Inhale. Exhale. There we go.
Content warnings: climate crises, police brutality, gun violence, rape, sexual assault, victim blaming, capitalism, colonialism, imperialism
Character: Alex (they/xe), 23, genderqueer, white, has an invisible disability, new activist, SA survivor
Context – at the Capitol for a rally in Austin Texas.
I get a news alert on my phone: another activist was just killed with the Cop City advancements in Atlanta.
Me and my friends got the same alert. Thank goddess we follow sources that actually tell us the truth.
As more and more people look at their phones, the group walking away from the rally start to get quiet – looking to each other for something – Hope? Comfort? Grief? Anger? How could I know what we need?
I don’t understand how this is possible. I mean I do. The world is falling apart. At least it seems that way. In my communities, it feels like the world is waking up – finally seeing the effects of capitalism, colonialism, imperialism, patriarchy, white supremacy… How the FUCK can these systems remain?
– looks back at phone –
Just like this. This is how. And even this they’ll try to silence. They’ll say ze was violent, the aggressor, a terrorist, asked for it. Goddess, I wish more people could see the connections – the fucking othering, the ignoring and blatant disregard for consent and boundaries. Just pressing forward and forward and forward to gain power over land, populations, individuals. These lives are being taken. Human and more-than-human. And for what? So more cops can be trained for careers in militarization and brutality? So oil companies can increase their bottom lines from several billion to several more billion (all while the working class still doesn’t benefit – still treated as a means to an end rather than living human beings worthy of love and safety and dignity). When will this cycle end? How much more violence has to happen? How many deaths? How much rape?
“Rape”. I couldn’t even say the word after it happened. I didn’t want to admit it. That wasn’t something that happened to people that were strong. Or capable. But that’s what happened to me. To my friends. To my family. To every woman in my ancestry. Every woman I know. Every queer person I know. And now the fucking earth too. Torn and broken and beaten until all the “beauty”… no. all the “worth” that capitalism values can be stripped away.
I don’t know what I can do. Nothing feels like enough. I don’t feel like enough. And I know I’m not alone. I have so many good people in my life. Even with all the people that came to this rally – and to all the ones across the country, the world – is it enough? We live in the center of the empire and even if we all banded together I don’t know if it would be enough to save us and heal us. To save and heal the planet. What can we do against this kind of tyranny? This kind of violence?
Why is it that every narrative in capitalism tells us that we’re responsible for preventing the violence that’s being committed against us?
Want not to be raped? Oh you should have covered up more. Want not to be killed? Well you should know when and where and how to protest. Don’t look like a threat. Don’t talk back. Keep your head down. Keep your eyes low. Cede the space. Where you drinking? Did you look suspicious? Did you look vulnerable? Were you smiling? Pretty girls always look better if they’re smiling. Do as you’re told. Did you try to fight back? You’re not strong enough anyway. Don’t be stupid. And even if you did everything right, somehow they can still blame it on us. On you. On me.
God forbid we blame the rapists and murderers.
Care
Thank you for reading this far. This work, awareness, and witnessing takes energy and courage. That idea of witnessing will come up again and again in my work, as I hope it comes up in yours. The point of this exercise when me and my friends presented our monologues were to end it in a place of uncertainty and then facilitate a conversation with the community/audience about how we deal.
Feel free to take the following questions and reflect on them in your own life. I like how Staci Haines describes reflection – “Feel free to journal about the reflection questions, do art, talk with friends, or meditate on them. Whatever works for you.”
- How can we place blame/accountability on the systems and people that harm us?
- How can we reduce the shame and smallness we are made to feel?
- How do we show up authentically and joyfully amidst systems of oppression?
- What’s the importance of community in all of this?
The most helpful resource for me in the process of writing and editing this piece was the book Quantum Justice: Global Girls Cultivating Disruption Through Spoken Word Poetry by Crystal Leigh Endsley. I highly recommend!
Harnessing Creative Expression for Social Change
Interested in using writing monologues or SWP to help process your own place in social change work? Set up a call with me!
Some benefits of SWP:
Reclaiming Power
Writing gives you control over your narrative and voice.
Community Connection
Sharing poetry fosters solidarity and mutual understanding on social issues.
