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A couple of Jehovah's Witnesses came to my door with a copy of The Watchtower about an hour ago. I said, "You know what? I'm lesbian and transgender. Please leave." They did.
What it didn't occur to me to say until after they left was, "The blood of my people is on your hands." Because it is: they drive their queer kids to suicide. When I mentioned that on Twitter, I got three JWs (or maybe JW bots) tweeting screen-capped propaganda at me. Three blocks later, it's all good.
One minor mystery is their lack of reaction to the big, lovely Pride flag on my living room wall, a present from my son, that's easily visible through my front window. (I keep the slats in the blinds open for my plants and my mental health. It's the best light there is, for free.) Did they see it? Did they care if they did?
To get back to my happy place: I have a date tonight, confirmed, for dinner and ahem with the Tickler. I'll be wearing the octopus leggings she requested.
What it didn't occur to me to say until after they left was, "The blood of my people is on your hands." Because it is: they drive their queer kids to suicide. When I mentioned that on Twitter, I got three JWs (or maybe JW bots) tweeting screen-capped propaganda at me. Three blocks later, it's all good.
One minor mystery is their lack of reaction to the big, lovely Pride flag on my living room wall, a present from my son, that's easily visible through my front window. (I keep the slats in the blinds open for my plants and my mental health. It's the best light there is, for free.) Did they see it? Did they care if they did?
To get back to my happy place: I have a date tonight, confirmed, for dinner and ahem with the Tickler. I'll be wearing the octopus leggings she requested.
