When I leave the house I’m in my mask
to save me from your poison breath.
Keeping safe, it is my task.
When I leave the house I’m in my mask,
I know for you it’s a lot to ask,
for some of us it’s certain death.
When I leave the house I’m in my mask
to save me from your poison breath.
We’ve known this fear before, remember, in the 80s, when the Grim Reaper scared the hell out of Australia, putting AIDS on the list. And deviant lifestyles, person-to-person sharing of blood and semen, created political quagmire. God’s vengeance was brought into it, breath of fire and brimstone. Bowling alleys were never the same, and condoms were front and centre (so to speak) for protection, packed in purses just in case… just in case there was resistance to covering up.
No place is safe for queer people. A digressive vagrant, I already require masking for passing, coming out and going out, a cover up, carapace protection from stings and barbs and judgements.
Fleeing a place that can kill me has an inevitable inexorability — for queer people being out is always an expected risking.
Note: In 1985, 4500 men in inner-suburban Sydney and Melbourne had tested HIV positive. This was person-to-person infections, through blood and semen and other bodily fluids. So far, in 2020, 33 million lives are gone.
Source: Marinella Padula, The AIDS Grim Reaper Campaign (A), The Australia and New Zealand School of Government Case program 2006-90.1, Australia and New Zealand School of Government, Version 24-11-2008, accessed 30 Jan 2021 http://www.anzsog.edu.au
© 2021
Not Very Quiet 