STREET TAX*
Alok Vaid-Menon writes about the street as a space for the performative intersection of patriarchy and communal insecurity, highlighting its essentiality as a space for building solidarities.
*I wrote these poems as an offering to all of the people who harass me on the street. I am sorry that the only way we have been taught to heal is to hurt.
TODAY A MAN ON THE STREET POINTED TO ME & SAID
“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?”
I WANTED TO TURN AROUND,
TELL HIM THAT I GOT THIS DRESS ON SALE
& I GOT THIS BODY FOR FREE
BUT YOU HAVE BEEN MAKING ME PAY FOR BOTH EVER SINCE.
TO THE MAN WHO SAID,
“YOU BETTER GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME OR ELSE!” TODAY ON W15 STREET
I WONDER IF YOUR REQUEST FOR SPACE WAS TO MAKE EXPLICIT
THE DISTANCE BETWEEN WHO YOU PRETEND TO BE AND WHO YOU ACTUALLY ARE.
I WORRY ABOUT THE TOLL THIS DISCONNECT IS HAVING ON YOU:
IT IS HARD TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE OUR MOST INTIMATE DESIRES ARE THE ONES WE ARE TOLD TO REPRESS.
I SPENT THE REST OF THE DAY FILLING IN THE REST OF THE SENTENCE FOR YOU:
“OR ELSE I WILL KISS YOU,
OR ELSE I WILL CRY ON YOUR SHOULDER,
OR ELSE I WILL HAVE TO STOP LYING TO MYSELF.”
I AM SORRY THAT YOU HAVE BEEN MADE TO FEAR SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS WANT.
I, TOO, AM AFRAID OF THE THINGS I WANT TO THE POINT OF NEED.
THE TRUTH IS I NEEDED YOU TO FINISH THE SENTENCE. I NEEDED TO KNOW.
I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND:
YOU WERE A STRANGER ON THE STREET BUT IN THAT MOMENT
YOU WERE EVERY PERSON IN MY LIFE WHO WANTED TO LOVE ME
BUT ENDED UP HURTING ME INSTEAD.
TO THE TWO MEN WHO YELLED: “THAT’S A MAN IN A DRESS! HEY EVERYONE THAT’S A MAN IN A DRESS!” WHILE POINTING AT ME ON SIXTH AVENUE:
I WANTED TO TURN AROUND AND POINT BACK AND SHOUT:
“HEY EVERYONE THAT’S AN INSECURE MAN, THAT’S AN INSECURE MAN! THAT’S AN INSECURE MAN!”
BUT THEN I REALIZED HOW REDUNDANT IT SOUNDED LIKE DESCRIBING A COLOR AS “BLUEISH BLUE” OR A FIGHT AS A “VIOLENT CONFLICT.”
WHAT IS A MAN BUT A PRIVATE REPRESSION MADE PUBLIC MADE PROPHET MADE POLICY?
WHAT IS A MAN BUT A QUESTION MARK SO LONELY IT WRAPPED AROUND ITSELF SO MANY TIMES IT BEGAN TO RESEMBLE A BODY?
I HAVE SPENT THE PAST 25 YEARS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHERE MAN BEGINS AND WHERE MAN ENDS AND WHAT I HAVE DISCOVERED IS THAT MAN BEGINS ONLY WHERE I END.
LET ME MORE EXPLICIT: MAN BEGINS WHEN I END. OR RATHER: MAN BEGINS BECAUSE I AM ENDED.
WHICH GOES TO SAY IN ORDER FOR MAN TO EXIST I CANNOT.
WHICH GOES TO SAY ONE DAY I GOT SO CONFIDENT IN MYSELF I WAS NO LONGER A MAN.
WHICH GOES TO SAY I HAVE PEOPLE COME OUT TO ME AS MEN EVERY DAY BY LEAVING ME BEHIND.
IT IS HARD TO HAVE YOUR ABUNDANCE MISTAKEN AS ABSENCE.
This poem is part of Femme In Public (2017), a collection of poetry by nonbinary artist Alok Vaid-Menon. In the author’s words it “is a dream of what it could look like to celebrate transfemininity in public — both in ourselves and for the people who desire us (by which I mean: everyone, across time, always).” Available for purchase as an ebook here.
Alok Vaid-Menon contains multitudes. They have always been bad at practical things like learning how to tie shoes, assimilate, and get over heartbreak. Their poetry comes from heartbreak — not from one person, but from a system. They spend a lot of time thinking about the right words to capture that loss: of being simultaneously more connected and more alienated than ever, of being disappointed not by individuals, but by institutions like “family,” like “country,” like “man.” In some languages and dimensions they use the words “trans” and “nonbinary” to describe themselves but in this space they use the word, “ME.” Welcome to me — a destination that is both you and the not-you, a bundle of cells and stories trying to find meaning in the apocalypse, trying to salvage something from the remains.
If you are in Mumbai this weekend (5th-7th May), catch Alok’s show Watching You/Watch Me, an evening of poetry and experimental performance confronting heartbreak, digital alienation, and the meaning of intimacy in a digital world.
