On Violence

Violence is not the language I use to discuss difference, divisiveness the tone by which I 
articulate dissent. 

It’s not on the heads of my own that I stand to reach my promised land, on heads filled 
with the same fears as my own—doubts and frustrations endemic to our shared supposed inferiority, incontinency, inability, inarticulateness, …erasure. 

No, I won’t stand on you, but rather step over you. As you burden yourself with 
resentment, poison yourself with jealousy, you sink down to the position of supplicant—
pious to the god of defeat; you create your inferiority, embrace it, and rest your head 
comfortably on the ground of oppression. Never let it go—no, to do so would be to cast 
away your sainthood; it would make you a sinner like me. 

No, I won’t stand on you, but neither will I embrace you. Your disposition is too heavy 
for the lightness of my spirit, your vitriol too course for the refinement of my 
comprehension. 

I step over you but you flail and I stumble, surprised, but confused why I’m pushed and 
pulled down, and you cry piety! to the dogma of anger but I commit sacrilege and you 
denounce this heretic but onward I step, over you, never on you. 

No, I won’t step on you—violence is not my discourse. No, you won’t make me bow—
divisiveness is not the tone through which I articulate dissent. 

But I will move forward: Your Tom, Their Equal. My Life, Your Discontent.