“The only good white men are the ones who know they should be shot in the face because all they are capable of is harm.”
I kept sipping my coffee, watching the veins in his neck bulge like thick cable. His non-binary queer white friend shot me a disgusted look and handed me back the zine I’d given them both. Then, to her shaking friend she offered soothing words, stroking the masculinity he pretended he hadn’t just wielded, calming him with the emotional labor skills drilled into her assigned-female body by the same cis-het white patriarchy they both claimed to fight.
I watched them leave together three years ago. I watch them leave together now in my head, wondering whatever happened to that man.