I want to know the stories of queers of every religion, of every culture, and of every race and color. Show me queers who are atheist, Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, deist, animists, Taoists, or agnostic. Tell me of queers who are African, Asian, Middle Eastern, Latino, Hispanic, European, or Native American. Give me the chronicles of all the different queer peoples of color.
Give me queers in space, battling evil empires and boldly going where no queers have gone before. I want to be able to unravel queer mysteries with fabulous detectives. I tell you, do not skimp on tales of queer cops and robbers, queer monarchs and peasants, and queer cowboys and Native Americans. I don’t know why I cannot quit any of them. Give me myths of fairy godfathers making offers that cannot be refused. Give me the story of the spy who took her martinis stirred, not shaken.
I want romantic comedies about queer protagonists who search desperately the whole movie to find love and at the end do so. But tell to me also the stories of those queers who reject “love” believing it to be an invention of an oppressive heternormitive society.
Give me narratives with angry inches, at least 20 centimeters, boys who cried, and those who like it hot.
Create for me legends and fantasies of queer wizards and demons, of queer witches and warlocks. Tell me the tales of queer vampires and ghouls. Try and scare me with tales of queer psycho slashers stalking hapless victims through showers and dreams.
Give me queer heroes and villains, queers who can fly and queers who fall, queer saints and sinners. Give me the good, the bad, and the ugly of all things queer. Feed me the queerest soylent green you can find.
I want desperately to see a queer on the bow of the Titanic, screaming defiantly into the wind, “I’m the queen of the world!”
Show me the money of the queer wealthy, but please do not forget the suffering of the queer poor and homelessness.