(Spoilers: Qoheleth)
Skunk note: I wrote chapter 6 like a week and some ago, but then @feybeasts posted this which actually kind of encompasses a lot of these feelings, too, and is also a good way to put it (and also look how good a skunk!!!)
End Of Endings — 2403
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Rye — 2409
We are built to love, yes, The Woman and I and all of our kin, and how complicated that is!
What is one to do when faced with the enormity of love? What subtle powers does such wield over one? Are we beholden to the fact that we deserve love? Had we not deserved love, were we not to deserve love, what would become of us? Would we be better off by choose-your-metric? Would I be better off if I could love beyond that familial love I feel for those in my stanza, for those in my clade? If I felt feelings of romance of desire of libido of attraction of soul-mate-ness of this-ness or that-ness would I be better off, or am I better for lacking such?
The Woman and I and all of our kin have not always had the best of luck with love, nor with standing up for ourselves. When I say that we have more traumas than simply getting lost, our unluck in love accounts for some sizeable portion of this.
We struggled with the role that our bodies played, yes? For Michelle who was Sasha was short — as we are — and she was fat — as many of us remain — and she was so-called blessed with breasts to match. So-called by those who wished to in some way claim ownership of them. When she pursued a reduction, her back thanked her and those who bestowed such praise wondered why why why we would withhold that goodness from them.
And yet even that did not stop such attention, for we were, it seems, worth a certain set of things to others — to those beyond our friends and our superlative friend with whom we remain in love — and so why would they hunt for aught else?
We are skunks for a reason. We bear these aposematic stripes for a reason. We adopted them to say: stay away. I am no longer worthy of such.
We also bear these scars on our chest for a reason, a reclamation. We found new joy in this transgression on the gender we are told is worth X and Y and Z. We are more than short fat women, though we also find joy in that, for What Praise exists, yes? My cross-tree? Lovely, he is. And Deny All Beginnings exists, yes? Trans man that he is? And Hold My Name exists, yes? Tall and trans and woman the long way around and transgressive for it? There is queerness in us and that is the more that we love, that is the A and B and C that is not the X and Y and Z.
We are skunks for a reason and we bear these aposematic stripes to also say: stay away. I am as I am and I will not be anything else.
It worked some of the time.
But I digress.
