stella nix

there was once a little boy.

he is born disabled. his body hurts, and he can’t walk properly the way the other children do. he doesn’t understand why. he’s a little boy. but he plays with wooden boats and pulls toys on a string.

somebody makes him a tunic. they sew ducks onto it in red and green and yellow and blue. the bright colours of a child.

the little boy is eight years old, and he’s going to be king now. there’s a big ceremony about it. he doesn’t really fully understand what’s going on, because he’s eight, but he wears the tunic with the brightly coloured ducks for the occasion because he loves it. look at his ducks! aren’t they great?

he is a child. the adults around him manipulate and coax him to gain more power for themselves. he still plays with toys.

as a teenager, not yet an adult, he fathers children. they do not survive. he’s not even old enough to have full agency in his job and is still being manipulated, but he had babies and they died.

he does not make it to his twenties. at eighteen or nineteen years old he dies, and is buried. his babies, so tiny, are buried with him.

and so is his tunic with the little ducks that he loved so much he kept it long after it no longer fit.

yeah i think that like. especially with historical figures in your mind people who were kings and queens or important nobles were adults. even if you know how old they were it doesn’t really click. it doesn’t seem real

but then you get something like a little tunic with brightly coloured ducks on it and it hits you like a fucking truck that this really was a little kid and no matter how far removed you are a little kid is still a little kid. their brains didn’t develop any quicker back then. he was just as developed/mature mentally as any 8 year old now. he had cartoonish animals on his clothes and he played with toy boats and probably terrorised the local cat population.

tutankhamun was a child and he didn’t make it to adulthood because he was unfortunate enough to be a very important child

his dad died when he was 8. he saw his own babies die when he was still just a boy himself.

tutankhamun had a little pair of sandals with ducks on them. he had earrings decorated with ducks. he kept those, and other items of childhood clothing. some toys. keepsakes. things he loved, and treasured. he kept them all in a little wooden chest. the chest… was carved with ducks.

and that little duck chest, filled with things he kept from his childhood, was buried with him. maybe he was keeping them for the little babies who did not make it. maybe they just reminded him of good days and fun times.

WITH PLEASURE

(greyscale makes it hard but the duck head is on the right above the toe strap. always takes me a while to find it too)

It’s so fascinating to me how a lot of people accused me of inventing the idea of “marginalized white people are white before they’re marginalized” but I constantly see writings/media from ages ago referencing it. For example, in this Black lesbian piece from 1987 there’s multiple references to it but I’ll pull one:

“‘And we wanted to meet others like ourselves—‘ Patrice added, gently.

‘Like yourselves?’ The words were thrown like acid by J.L.

You goddamn racist! Lettie thought, as the beer churned sourly in her stomach. Beer and anger don’t mix. White racists and Black militants don’t mix, and white lesbians and Black lesbians are white and Black people first, instilled with personal backgrounds of distrust and hostilities.

Seeing the smoldering fire in Lettie’s eyes, J.L. backed away, putting out the cigarette in an ash tray on the edge of the table. ‘Uh—well—you see, this is kind of a private organization.’ She conjured up a weak grin, which became a clown’s grimace. ‘We meet at each other’s houses sometimes and we are all—er—friends.’”

–A Meeting of the Sapphic Daughters by Ann Allen Shockley (1987) in Mouths of Rain: An Anthology of Black Lesbian Thought

you may *think* you’re doing fine, trundling along thru life still wearing “Men’s” clothes cos you think they “fit better” ..but this is a lie, many “Women’s” clothes will actually fit you just as well *and* actually improve how you feel abt yourself.. truly Nothing can beat the feeling of finally wearing the clothes that actually Suit You

THE // KISS