When I fall for a man, I think about our future. I think about my dream wedding complete with a designer lehenga, all the lovely places we’ll travel around as we hold hands, and the countless guests we’ll entertain in our suburban abode with white-picket fences.
When I fall for a woman, I see the grey concrete walls and rusted barbed wires closing in, the desert of a peering crowd with no way out, the blood that drips from our pierced hearts and our hacked necks.
Maybe I will end up with a man, but I don’t think it would stop me from feeling distressed and desolate about my deprivation of human rights for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ve grown sick of hating myself and thinking I can be cured of my identity. Maybe I can no longer silence my beating heart.
Source: BANGLADESH AGAINST HOMOPHOBIA