You’re a Dyke

Aug 15th, 2005 | By | Category: Student 2005
By Lisa Dixon


I write each letter
so she won’t know it’s me
I look over ignorant heads
at the focus of my hate

the dyke who kissed me

It’s all her fault
I was drunk and she took advantage
My friends didn’t believe me
I’m no dyke

I return to my note


I begin to fold and carefully
press down to crease
the deceptively innocent
white paper
and seal my hate
her name written on top
with the same pen
I use in Sunday school

The note passes
from hand to hand
and as it stops
I feign interest
in Mr. Davis’ boring lessons

After she reads
she scans for the author
I can feel her eyes stay on me

When I finally look
I see her writing
and my heart begins to beat faster
calmed only by the thought
that anyone else in this school
would do the same
She is unnatural and disgusting

I like boys and want to get married
I’m not what is wrong

The note sent with hate
boomerangs back
settling on my desk
I don’t care what that dyke
thinks. For her actions and desires
she’ll burn in flames

I open and read:

I belong here just like you,
the difference,
I’m open-minded and free

You should ask yourself
why you reject and hate

Could it be
that deep down inside

you’re a dyke like me?

Lisa Dixon is enrolled in the Cherokee Nation of Oklahoma and is also part Choctaw. She grew up on the Haskell Indian Nations University campus and eventually became an American Indian Studies major there and played varsity basketball. She has taken a variety of English classes at Haskell; the last was creative writing with Trish Reeves, who taught her how to better express herself and emotions through writing poetry. She plans to pursue a degree in psychology at another institution to become a therapist or counselor in private practice.

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