Why are you mad at me because I’m not like you?

What about my existence, or than of any other, declares that who I am need be a fit of sorts into how you perceive the world?

Why do I need to be like you for you to like and trust me?

Why is it that I’m not able to simply be and thus feel accepted?

Who are we if not endless attempts by the universe to get it right? But that’s the joke. That’s the human talking. 

Because I don’t know that there is a right. 

The questions we ask reveal who we are and how we see the world. 

There is no right. 

I need not be like you for you to accept me as I am. 

But that doesn’t remove personal responsibility. 

That doesn’t pardon integrity.

That doesn’t permit us to treat others with disrespect, to oppress, to rationalize inequality or abuse for the sake of the economy or some other mental concept that doesn’t matter in the face of people being beaten down in the streets. 

But let me be clearer still. 

To be true to my essence can never, not ever, be disrespectful. Because our essence is good, is love, and it’s the core of all things. It brings fourth a sense of innocence. It blends truth with beauty beyond this world. 

To not be me is the real sin. 

You feeling disrespected in response to my natural state of honored self-expression is the real perversion. 

In response to something greater than what the eyes can see. 

… that can be felt profoundly if you allow it. 

… that if you look in the right way, will arise before you. 

And for you to be upset that I don’t fit the mold you subscribed long before you knew better… 

Well, I’m sorry Mr. President. 

I’m not sorry. 

I’m not sorry that we’re angry. 

I’m not sorry that we’re marching. 

As certain as your ignorance is espoused so will wisdom rise with equal and greater force. 

For light cannot exist without darkness. 

And your journey will be a long one. 

It’s a long way home when you’ve wandered so far and extended your good will to only a fraction of the derserving that is humanity. 

I do not pity you. 

I pray for you with a mix of anger, sorrow, and conviction. 

This is doing the work. 

Showing up, caffeinated or not. 

Filled with piss, vinegar, and sparkles. 

This is the human world, folks. And I’m doing my best to bring fourth some ethereal wisdom, unicorns, and laughter. 

And I’m not sorry. 

I can’t be who you want me to be, even if who I am reveals your ignorance.