Travesty

Travesty

Travesty

“You were born a white man in mid-twentieth century industrial America. You came into the world armed to the teeth with an arsenal of weapons. The weapons of privilege, racial privilege, sexual privilege, economic privilege. You wanna be a pacifist, it’s not just giving up guns and knives and clubs and fists and angry words, but giving up the weapons of privilege, and going into the world completely disarmed. Try that.” — Ammon Hennacy, as recalled by Utah Phillips

You whose charm is easy and graceful. You for whom beauty comes effortlessly. You who refuse to squander your talent. You whose skin is without flaw. You in whom hope is placed. You who think well of others.

Welcome.

Travesty has a guitar
Travesty has a cracked voice,
Travesty has a dress
Travesty has the wrong body,
Travesty dances.
Travesty got all dressed up to tell a story that doesn’t make sense.
Travesty has been in training.
Travesty is dragged up
Travesty is broken down.

A punked-up drag show from the depths of time or myth or the psyche or the soul. The depths at least.

Let us meet without our weapons.