Thursday, June 9, 2011

Jesus has no gender now.

This is a new monologue which I will debut tomorrow in Köln, as the end segment of my performance. I thought I'd share it with you.

Picture by Joshua Kristal from Notorious Beauty, NYC, 2008

UPDATE: will stream the performance at roughly 8pm (C.E.S.T) on Sat 11th June and for a short while afterwards it will be viewable on their site.

"I wake up sometimes and it’s on my mind, I think about it all of the time, my failure to surrender, my victory sustained at such cost, 'Kiss Me Hardy.' I remember lying next to you in bed, early in the morning, not long before dawn, and kissing you, and you saying to me, 'I don’t think I want this anymore, I don’t think I want this. I need someone who is more of a man.' More of a man, then? Less of a woman, then? And I remember other times, other lovers who have embraced me, whom I have embraced, and I hear their voices played back too. How often have I been told, 'I’m really sorry but, I only really date real girls.'

What is a real girl, what is the measure of reality anyway? Some miniscule chromosomal difference, some reshaping of nerve endings, some designated parking area. I can’t be that, I have no fixity, I am only a person.

And did I ever say I was anything else? No. It was you who imagined me a gender, and it is you who have disappointed yourself. I never said I was any kind of man, I never said I was any kind of woman, I barely claim to be human, I hardly know if I exist. But you somehow believe that because I am neither exhibit A or exhibit B, that I am less than a man and less than a woman, without realizing the tragedy of your logic. I am not less than either, I am more than both. I am the interface, Ich bin Zwillinge, I am all of your strengths and all of your weaknesses, so if you want to slander me then go ahead. I can take it, and more, I am a saint coated in the filth of this world, which has given me a radiant sheen, and all of your ignorance is washed away with the rain. You are no more than poster paint on marble, you wipe clean, I am immortal. I was here first and I will be here last, because we are God’s people, Jesus has no gender now.

Get up, go home, be gone. I don’t meet the expectations you want to force on me, I’m too tall, my breasts are too small, I don’t smell right, well I don’t apologise for any of that and as the door closes behind you, all I have to do is leave my physicality behind, on the shore, and step into the boat. 'Hello Charon.' "

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