To the man who walked by me 30 minutes ago:

Thank you for notifying your friend of ‘that fucking fag’ who was I sitting outside my home, smoking a cigarette while brooding over the shitty mood I’ve been in for the past three hours. I appreciate that at least you swore when I peered out from my angsty black leather jacket with the menacing hood and you realized “holy shit that’s a chick”. I am glad to hear my androgyny is still alive and kicking, and for a moment it had you fooled. I hope tonight you dream of pansexual hermaphroditic orgies and wake up slightly scared in the morning.

Perhaps you thought it lucky, that although I heard you comment on my appearance, I am just a chick. Perhaps you thought you were half-right, I could still be a fag, but maybe because I am female (as far as you could tell) you thought that peering over your shoulder at me could make me slink back under my hood. It didn’t, I watched you until you turned the corner and then wished I’d held two fingers up to my mouth in the shape of a V and stuck my tongue out.

All of these things, stranger, I am glad for. I was in quite a rut until your absurd badly timed comment brought me out of it. For this, I thank you.

But I do feel as though I should tell you, the neighbourhood in which you are walking is called the Village, and it is the gayest part of Toronto. As it is Wednesday, or any day that ends in d-a-y, the direction in which you are heading will bring you to several drag queen karaoke events. I dare you to make that comment again toward someone who has faced tribulation because of their sexuality or gender. I hope you get a six-inch drag queen heel up the ass and I hope you like it, because maybe then you’d choose your words more carefully.

Fabulously yours,

Kate

P.S. I actually do like disco, and thought you might like it too!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShiKVmNnp9w