The Rainbow Agenda

6am: Suzy brings me breakfast.  She’s wearing high heels already, at six in the goddamn morning.  I’m not complaining, mind you.  I’ve always had a thing for girls in business suits and high heels.  She puts the tray on the bed and I watch as she picks out my clothes.  I wouldn’t mind having Suzy for breakfast, but she still thinks she’s straight, poor thing.  I’ll have to settle for pancakes.

“Who was it last night?” Suzy asks, eyeing the vibrator still lying on the floor.  I grin shamelessly.

“Miranda, from accounting,” I reply.  Suzy shakes her head, and I can’t tell if she’s more amused or disapproving.

I wonder while I drink my coffee if it’s possible to grin shamefully.  Of course, one would have to feel shame in order to do that, and I’ve never felt ashamed a day in my life.  Guilt is a cishet problem.  The rest of us just don’t have the time.

“Will you be sending flowers or chocolates this time?”  Suzy interrupts my wandering thoughts.  I think for a moment.

“Both,” I reply.  Miranda is definitely worth it.  Who knew accountants could be so imaginative?

Suzy snorts quietly and puts my Converse shoes down with rather more force than necessary.  I guess disapproving won the day.  She finishes with my clothes and picks up her iPad.  It seems we’ve spent enough time discussing my personal life.  Time to review today’s agenda.

“Did you remember we moved the Civil Libertarians to 8 o’clock?” she asks.  I sigh.  It’s too early in the morning to think about those free speech obsessives.

“What are they whining about this time?” I ask.

“They say the most recent amendments to the Discrimination Act are too open to interpretation, particularly the part about ‘intent to cause offense’.”  Now it’s my turn to snort.

“That’s kind of the point.”

“Martin had lunch with their deputy chief yesterday.  He thinks he can get them to keep quiet about the changes if you appoint one of their people to the next Assessment Committee.”

“Done.”  I climb out of bed and groan.  My entire right leg aches and my ribs feel like someone punched me.  I guess I’m going to have to work out more if I want to keep seeing Miranda.  Suzy gives me a Look over the top of her glasses.  I’d laugh at her if it wouldn’t hurt.  When she’s done judging me, she turns back to the screen.

“The Committee for Linguistic Flexibility is at nine.  You’re discussing the introduction of the gender neutral pronoun into public institutions.”

“That campaign’s going well,” I say, heading for the bathroom.  “The legitimacy of the singular ‘they’ seems to be gaining ground.”  Suzy shakes her head.

“So far the only mainstream publications interested in the idea are The Guardian and the SMH, and probably only because they’re on our payroll.  The others are claiming it’s another example of political correctness gone too far.”

“Do we know why?”

“Apparently the only people who really understand the Principles of the Evolution of Language are the ones we paid to invent them.”  I frown at my reflection as I wash my hands.

“Bugger.  I suppose we should have seen that coming.”  I think for a moment.  “Add it to the agenda for the meeting.  If we can dumb it down enough for the great unwashed, we might be able to sell it as an anti-establishment move.  Sticking it to the grammar police and so on.”


“And email Clowd-Frostbyn-Raynbo-Hott-Ayr-Ballun Williams.  Get xem to invent some more neutral pronoun options, the more ‘z’s and ‘y’s and ‘x’s, the better.”

“Why?”  Suzy looks confused.  “Surely we want to simplify things for the mainstream, not make them more complicated?”  I sigh.  She still has so much to learn.

“That’s the point,” I say, as patiently as I can.  “Compared to twenty different combinations of zem/ze/zyr, the singular ‘they’ won’t be intimidating at all, so they won’t fight it.”  Suzy nods and adds a note to her schedule.

“What’s next?” I ask, as I reach for the toothpaste.

“If we’re adding items to the Committee agenda, we’re going to have to push back the Safe Schools Coalition to midday.  Do you want me to make it a lunch meeting?”

“O’cor I wa’ oo o ae i’ a ung ee’ng, oo uck’i’ i’io,” I say.

“Pardon?”  I spit my mouthful of toothpaste foam into the sink and roll my eyes at the mirror.

“Of course I want you to make it a lunch meeting.  And don’t forget to order halal this time.”  There’s silence while Suzy emails the restaurant with our lunch order, and for once I’m allowed to dress in peace.  I’m still thinking about the gender neutral pronouns.  Queering language is one of our most important tasks.  When you control language, you control thoughts, or close enough.  That makes me think of the Civil Libertarians.  They’re always accusing us of “thought policing”, which makes me laugh.  Of course we want to police people’s thoughts, if only we knew how.  We can’t have people thinking whatever they like – they’ve been doing that for thousands of years, and look what a pig’s breakfast they’ve made of things.  Straight people everywhere, white people holding all the money, the nuclear family’s still a thing, which means woman are being forced into motherhood while men don’t suffer at all – it’s a disaster, but one that we’re slowly bringing around.  Too slowly, if today’s agenda is anything to go by.

The door is flung open so hard it bounces off the wall and Suzy and I both jump.

“Hiiiii, girlfriends!”  Martin, my second-in-command, always likes to make an entrance.  We wouldn’t normally have men in the Inner Circle, but Martin’s so gay he practically sparkles.  In fact, today he is sparkling – he has shimmering silver painted along his cheekbones, which goes surprisingly well with his eight thousand dollar suit and Gucci shoes.  Next to him, I look like a hobo, which is exactly as it should be.  A well-dressed lesbian is a contradiction in terms.

“Hi Martin,” I say.  “Thanks for sorting out the Libertarians.”  He prances over and we give each other air kisses.

“It was nothing, darling,” he said.  “Their deputy chief is already on our side, if you know what I mean.”  He winks suggestively and I laugh.  Martin certainly has a way with the men, which is proving an absolute Goddess-send to the cause.

“Will you be at the meeting?” I ask.

“No, sweetie, I simply must have my nails done, they’re looking dreadful.”  Only a gay man can really speak in italics.  I slip my phone into my pocket and gesture to Suzy.

“Walk with me,” I say, heading down the corridor.

“Speaking of people on our side,” Martin says, walking with me, “Satan was at the bar last night.  He’s not very pleased with us.”

“He’s never pleased with anyone,” I say.

“No, but he did essentially start our movement, he says it’s not fair that we’re neglecting him.”  I sigh.  He has a point.  If it weren’t for Satan, we wouldn’t be here.  After all, who else could have created a society like the Illuminati?

“I could slip in a drinks date around 4:30 and reschedule your hair appointment,” Suzy suggests.  Martin gasps and stops in his tracks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say.  I can’t believe she could even suggest such a thing.  “I can’t miss that appointment!  My undercut is so long I almost look -” I swallow hard “- straight.”  Martin closes his eyes and makes the sign of the All-Seeing Eye to ward off such horrors.  Suzy looks confused.  Apparently she doesn’t understand what she’s suggesting.

“But surely,” she says, “surely Satan is more important than -”

“Oh. Em. Gee, Suzy,” says Martin.  “Don’t you understand by now?  There’s no point being gay if nobody can tell!”

“I’m sorry,” Suzy says.  “What about if you invite him to the Safe Schools Coalition meeting?  You’re discussing the introduction of explicit content and the destruction of traditional marriage today.  Two of his favourite things.”

“Yes, do that,” I say, relieved.  “They were both his idea, and he does like to feel involved.”  The back of my hand is still itchy, and when I scratch it, some of the skin comes away.  I can see scales underneath.  I sigh.

“And I’ll need an appointment with Doctor Werber ASAP.”  Suzy frowns.

“But you only shed your last skin five months ago,” she said.

“I know, I just can’t seem to make a skin last these days.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Martin says sympathetically.  “It’s the stress.”  He’s right.  Things were so much simpler on Mars, before we came here, before we had to cover our beautiful scales with this soft pink stuff.  But it’s the sacrifice we had to make.  It’s no easy task, controlling the government, limiting free speech and converting an entire population to queerness.  But someone has to do it.

This piece is satire.  The views and stereotypes contained herein do not reflect those of the author.  Mostly.  Well, only a little bit.  (Up with the super gay matriarchy.)


Image from – found in a great post about marriage equality, please click on the link and take a look.

All rights to this original work are reserved to Cambrey Payne 2016. Acknowledge sources when sharing and do not repost without original source.


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