(A Spoken Word Piece)
They see us walk in, glitter — glam, bold, and bright,
And they whisper — “They just want attention, right?”
Drag queens strutting like royalty,
Trans kings commanding space like destiny,
And suddenly, it’s a show,
Not a life. Not a fight. Not survival.
Just… something to gawk at.
“Are you not entertained?”
The words echo from the Colosseum to the club,
From Maximus to Marsha,
From gladiators to glittered defiance.
We didn’t come to dance for your comfort.
We came to exist — loudly. Freely. Fiercely.
Because the world handed us silence,
And we chose sequins.
They say — “Why so dramatic?”
As if history didn’t drench us in drama.
As if we didn’t bury friends in the ‘80s,
Or hide who we were to keep jobs, families, our lives.
As if bathroom bills, conversion camps, and closet doors
Aren’t heavy enough to make you scream.
But go ahead —
Clutch your pearls. Shake your heads.
Scroll by with your assumptions and side-eyes.
Say we do it all for attention…
“Are you not entertained?”
Or are you just too afraid to admit
That this isn’t a performance —
It’s a revolution wrapped in rhinestones.
It’s freedom with a strut and a split.
It’s truth with a tuck and a tease.
It’s saying,
We’re here. We’re queer. We’re done whispering.
So next time you stare,
Ask yourself:
Is it the sparkle that blinds you —
Or the power behind it?
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