I didn’t think blackout poems were for me. I’ve never considered myself a visual artist, not in the least bit. I wasn’t sure I had the eye for it. Then I saw this comment, before work tonight, and something clicked.
It was a public comment on my Facebook, under a WordPress post I’d shared. I wrote the post on a topic that I feel strongly about: that I’m not “LGBT without the T.”
The man who commented wasn’t a follower. He was just some creep who had something cruel to say, like people often do when they’re not being watched. Sending in the comment and, blocking me this afternoon while I was asleep for work.
And before I could even reply. I don’t delete comments, and I usually kill with kind snark. But this time, I made him into forever art.
I blacked out the rest.
And what was left.. well that is the art.
I didn’t expect to like this process. I didn’t expect to feel like I could even do it.
Now I have and, it feels like something I’ll keep doing.
There’s something quiet and satisfying about revealing the truth that was already buried in the noise.
Say it. Don’t spray it.