by Mia McKenzie
The Apocalypse will be here in a few short months, and I’ve started to realize that some of the queers I know will never survive it. It makes me sad, but…hey, more brains for zombie me! To give y’all a heads up, so you’re not surprised when your friends start disappearing, I’ve compiled this handy list:
1. That white girl with the blunt asymmetric haircut and the supervisory NPIC job who always cries and tells you how poor she grew up when you call her out on her racism. She will likely be killed by zombies eating off her face to get to her tear ducts because, to zombies, white girl tears taste like honey dew melon and sex.
2. That performance artist with the crushing need to be the center of attention at all times. If you can’t blend in during the Apocalypse, you’re fucked. The rabid wild dogs will get you first.
3. That perpetually-frowning queer who, every time you ask him in passing how he’s doing, launches into a long, drawn out, half hour long story about his chihuahua’s bad breath and the outrageous prices of organic dog mouthwash *, or how his ex is committing a heinous dating etiquette foul by going out with someone who he himself used to crush on (which is not a foul at all), or how his mom keeps looking at him as though she suspects he is a gay and how it’s giving him insomnia and irregular periods. He will probably be killed by organ thieves who, while he is distracted by the sounds of his own voice, take his liver.
4. That way too happy motherfucker whose compulsive positivity silences your truth. Like, when you say, “I’m so busy with all these jobs and I don’t get to sleep and I’m so tired and it’s terrible,” they say, “You mean, you’re happy to have a job because a lot of people don’t, right?” No, bitch, that’s not what I meant! They will probably be burned up in the too-hot post-apocalypse sunshine. And they’ll probably like it.
5. That white hipster who is always rocking that Che shirt. He will probably be punched through the guts by the ghost of Che Guevarra. (I’m assuming there will be ghosts in the apocalypse. Right?)
6. That moody, annoying ass emo cancer who makes everything an emotional mini-drama. Um, I just asked you to pass me the mustard. It doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re pretty. Also, it’s the apocalypse, and nobody is all that pretty right now. No, that doesn’t mean I’m checking out other girls! She will probably also be killed by zombies, who will get her while she is sobbing and listening to Fall Out Boy way too loudly to be able to hear them coming.
7. That 100-pound genderqueer who always gets mistaken for a seven-year old from behind because of all those neon-pink leg warmers, bedazzled headbands, and shiny plastic shoes. Way too easy to spot. He will probably be killed by a gang of seven year-olds who didn’t mean to kill him but who, in the dreary grayness of the Apocalypse, got so excited to see colors again that they accidentally loved/ate him to death.
8. That white lesbian who owns the yoga studio. She will most certainly be killed by a roving band of Indian undead who resent her appropriating their culture and then making the classes too expensive for them and all their poor brown queer friends to attend. They will prob suffocate her with her own yoga mat.
9. That super-cute boi whose wide eyes, pretty brown skin, love of high-water pants, and shy demeanor remind you of a young Michael Jackson. They will be killed by zombie Michael Jackson (who looks exactly like regular Michael Jackson circa 2006), who, in death, finally realized the terrible effect that racism had on his pysche, and is mad now, and wants his original face back.
🙂
*The original version made a reference to fibromyalgia. Someone pointed out that it was kinda ableist. While my attempt was not to make fun of fibromyalgia, but to make fun of the idea of asking someone how they are in passing and getting various long, intricate details about their life, I can see now that my choice of fibromyalgia as part of that punch line was thoughtless and unwise, considering the realities of folks living with it. As a person not living with fibromyalgia, it’s not for me to make use of it in jokes. I apologize.
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