"THEY DON'T TELL YOU TO THINK" cassette, limited edition pressing! Only a few made and we won't be making more. Done in incredibly special conjunction with Mobile Suit Music <3
Includes unlimited streaming of THEY DON'T TELL YOU TO THINK
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lyrics
i am learning what it is to navigate an intricacy
color lines and boundaries
everything my mother says to not put on the internet is on the internet, unfortunately
i log onto Twitter sometimes and see my ex-best friend at the top of my newsfeed
she has one tweet that reads, “being transgender is knowing you’ll always be your father’s son and being ok with that”
i read this during the year i plan to move to philadelphia,
out of my parents’ house to answer the gendered question
my little cousin leaves a note on my bed that reads “jorgito please don’t go”
and i don’t go
i remain my father’s son, making peace with the terms I am still learning to accept
except,
one september night I run away from home,
asking my parents, “where did we go wrong?”
and i think it’s more like a question for myself, because,
what is the weight of diaspora to the generation who never experiences immigration?
is it heavy metal rock hands in a foreign country?
because if so, fuck yeah baby, I’m in it!
or is it honeycombs and birthing hips,
the look on my lover’s face at the point of conception?
we pause for a moment to consider the consequence,
then let it settle in.
settling down with our intergenerational paycheck
pouring limonadas for our little gringitos
as we play house in florida
it is a place we can learn to forget and then let it settle in,
then let it settle in,
then let it settle in.
it is not so much a nothing as it is a something,
crying over a podcast where a child picks their gender
you begin to wonder how many lifetimes you’re going to spend
crying over something as stupid as a gender
your parents speak the gendered language but refuse the gendered child
your white friends talk to their parents about a thing like fucking
you’re your white friend’s best white friend yet you don’t know how to talk about anything
I wanna be a philadelphia transvestite who talks about everything
a cool riot grrrl who rolls her r’s extra long so you know where the fuck she came from
the rage of menstruation flowing inside me without ever knowing the trauma
in culture of silence,
what is trauma to the mother of a child who has come out broken?
how embarrassing must it be to invest so much of yourself into someone
only to find out they have come out broken,
then let it settle in.
They don’t tell you to think,
because you shouldn’t have to
They don’t tell you to think,
because that is your privilege
They don’t tell you to think,
because they just had to deal with it
They don’t tell you to think,
because there is still work to be done.
i fall in love with old latina women at the gym
who only understand the body as a form of currency
they know they ain’t shit and i hope to grow up pretty like them
as i chip away at the gendered question,
my hands become calloused
resembling more like my father’s hands
he is a mechanic, and a karaoke singer
and i,
i am someone who wants to talk about everything
