A weapon of priests, kings, doctors, police, to punish what they could not control.
Everywhere, sodomy meant punishment.
Everywhere, sodomy meant shame.
The word that condemned us.
A weapon of priests, kings, doctors, police, to punish what they could not control.
Everywhere, sodomy meant punishment.
Everywhere, sodomy meant shame.
They burned us in Florence. They hanged us in London. They jailed us under Paragraph 175. They raided us under sodomy laws until we fought back at Stonewall.
But what they feared was not sin, it was freedom. The freedom to desire without reproduction.
The freedom to live without nation, without church.
The freedom to use the body as instrument of pleasure, of resistance, of communion. If sodomy is their sin, we choose sin.
If sodomy is demonic, we dance with demons.
If sodomy is damnation, then hell is ours. Every accusation becomes our manifesto.
Every trial becomes our ritual.
Every mark of shame becomes fuel for our joy. We do not forget.
We remember the silenced, the erased, the executed.
We carry their shadows when we dance.
We answer their silence with noise.
We turn their shame into rage
