October is LGBTQ+ History Month, and it's during this month that we remember the people, the events, the tragedies, and the victories that have shaped the LGBTQ+ community into what we see today. Unfortunately, reflecting on LGBTQ+ history means reflecting on the violence and hate that the community has faced. In 2014, the FBI reported that 20.8 percent of hate crimes reported to police in 2013 were founded on perceived sexual orientation. A 2013 report from the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs showed that 72 percent of victims of anti-LGBT homicide were transgender women, and 67% of anti-LGBT homicide victims were trans women of color. Violence is an unfortunate and unwanted part of LGBTQ+ history, but in order to only grow more and overcome this violence, it's important to recognize those who have been the victims of hate and violence. Below is a poem titled Jigsaw, which sheds light on the way many people of LGBTQ+ identity are not accepted and have not been accepted in society. All the people listed in this poem are based on real people.
The boy next door fits into the puzzle with his sun-soaked hair,
and his country, corn-fed wife slides into place next to him.
Their white picket fence house takes its spot in central suburbia,
its copies filling in the holes with their offspring.
Harvey didn't fit into the puzzle, not the way the bullet
fit into his brain. His dreams of equality had no place
with the ginger mother and her children of the natural order,
who played with guns even when there were no shields to yield.
No, your cousin could marry her boyfriend the millionaire,
but Matthew couldn't get his four years of sugarcoated knowledge.
He couldn't fit into the puzzle while being tied to a fence,
like he was a body of hay with a painted face.
The xtravagant Venus wanted the surgery to make you love her,
but you felt betrayed and kicked her out of the puzzle.
You thought Cece and her sisters weren't the right
color or assembled correctly - no place for them here.
They ignored Alan's genius, his life-saving craft,
and he too was thrown from the puzzle.
Bobby cried for help, but it was too late for his mother,
even though she tried to fit him back in.
Leelah's dress couldn't fit in, but her sister's did.
Tennessee's art was censored, and the diluted adaptations
were applauded. They ignored the smile Brandon beamed
but fabricated the frown in his eyes.
The Mary Sues had their place,
but when Ebony, Kristene and Mollie, or Scotty Joe
looked for their spot the “no vacancy” sign flooded their vision
in shades of red, white, and bonnie blue.
No room for those who are misshapen, discolored, or contaminated.
We'll try to sloppily fill the holes with molded masks and lies.
Let them create their own picture for their own puzzle,
one where everyone could have their peace.
