Trigger up: The Hinterlands


Hello, this is potentially triggering for discussion of BDSM, racism, and state violence. Take care! -RD


In between. Not quite girl, not quite boy. Too dark to be white, too white to be recognizable as latin@, unless we’re at church or crossing the border. “Tell us your name, miss. Where did you come here from? What for?”

Some day, we’ll paint this interaction into a scene and film it. But in my scene, the undocumented (call me sir) pins the ass of la migra, and not the other way around. I’ll spill the only water cooler for miles into the sand, make them lick it from my freshly-shined boots after a good beating. And it’ll be all thank you sir, and sir, may I? No, no you may not. If I can’t pass, then you won’t, either. I’m tired of being alienated from all sides (as many sides to this intersectionality as a rubiks cube), so I’ll take it into my own hands and then discipline you with them, both my oft-missed identities as mixed/trans/top* as well as the ways I am often misidentified as girl/dyke/submissive.

I get off on this abuse of authority, true, tho that scene is but a farce. I was born this far north, make no mistake. It’s northern latitude that has blanched my skin, more sure than my mother’s mother’s line of Wyoming ranchers and Mayflower puritans.

*okay, maybe more like switch–i’ve discovered the joys of truly bottoming since writing this.


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