"You don't belong here" almost always means, "We can't find a function or a role for you." "You don't belong here" sometimes means, "You're too queer to handle." "You don't belong here" very rarely means, "There's no way for you to exist and be happy here."
﻿"你不属于这里"， 这句话几乎总是意味着， “我们找不到适合你的位置。” “你不属于这里”有时候意味着， “你太酷儿了，我们接受不了。” “你不属于这里” 在极少数情况下意味着， “你绝对不可能在这里立足或过的开心。”
I went to university in Johannesburg, South Africa, and I remember the first time a white friend of mine heard me speaking Setswana, the national language of Botswana. I was on the phone with my mother and the intrigue which painted itself across her face was absolutely priceless. As soon as I hung up, she comes to me and says, "I didn't know you could do that. After all these years of knowing you, how did I not know you could do that?"
我在南非的约翰内斯堡上的大学。 我还记得一个白人朋友的反应， 当时她第一次听到我说茨瓦纳语， 也就是博茨瓦纳国语。 当时我在跟我妈打电话， 她脸上绽放出的惊讶就像无价之宝。 我一挂电话，她就过来跟我说， “我不知道你还会这个。” “我都认识你这么多年了 我怎么会不知道你还会这个？”
What she was referring to was the fact that I could switch off the twang and slip into a native tongue, and so I chose to let her in on a few other things which locate me as a Motswana, not just by virtue of the fact that I speak a language or I have family there, but that a rural child lives within this shiny visage of fabulosity.
她指的是我能在方言和母语之间 切换自如， 所以我主动告诉她另外几件 能证明我是博茨瓦纳人的事， 除了我能说那里的语言， 和我有家人在那生活之外的事。 我虽然外表美如天仙， 内心却住着一个农村娃。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
(Applause)
（掌声）
I invited the Motswana public into the story, my story, as a transgender person years ago, in English of course, because Setswana is a gender-neutral language and the closest we get is an approximation of "transgender." And an important part of my history got left out of that story, by association rather than out of any act of shame. "Kat" was an international superstar, a fashion and lifestyle writer, a musician, theater producer and performer -- all the things that qualify me to be a mainstream, whitewashed, new age digestible queer. Kat. Kat had a degree from one of the best universities in Africa, oh no, the world. By association, what Kat wasn't was just like the little brown-skinned children frolicking through the streets of some incidental railway settlement like Tati Siding, or an off-the-grid village like Kgagodi, legs clad in dust stockings whose knees had blackened from years of kneeling and wax-polishing floors, whose shins were marked with lessons from climbing trees, who played until dusk, went in for supper by a paraffin lamp and returned to play hide-and-seek amongst centipedes and owls until finally someone's mother would call the whole thing to an end. That got lost both in translation and in transition, and when I realized this, I decided it was time for me to start building bridges between myselves. For me and for others to access me, I had to start indigenizing my queerness. What I mean by indigenizing is stripping away the city life film that stops you from seeing the villager within. In a time where being brown, queer, African and seen as worthy of space means being everything but rural, I fear that we're erasing the very struggles that got us to where we are now. The very first time I queered being out in a village, I was in my early 20s, and I wore a kaftan. I was ridiculed by some of my family and by strangers for wearing a dress. My defense against their comments was the default that we who don't belong, the ones who are better than, get taught, we shrug them off and say, "They just don't know enough." And of course I was wrong, because my idea of wealth of knowledge was based in removing yourself from Third World thinking and living. But it took time for me to realize that my acts of pride weren't most alive in the global cities I traipsed through, but in the villages where I speak the languages and play the games and feel most at home and I can say, "I have seen the world, and I know that people like me aren't alone here, we are everywhere." And so I used these village homes for self-reflection and to give hope to the others who don't belong. Indigenizing my queerness means bridging the many exceptional parts of myself. It means honoring the fact that my tongue can contort itself to speak the romance languages without denying or exoticizing the fact that when I am moved, it can do this:
很多年前，我请博茨瓦纳的百姓 听听我的跨性别故事， 故事当然是用英语写的， 因为塞茨瓦纳是一种性别中立的语言， 最接近“跨性别者”的词只有一种近似表达。 那个故事漏掉了我很重要的一部分历史， 因为没有关联，而不是因为羞耻。 “凯特”曾是一位国际巨星， 时尚生活方式作家，音乐家，戏剧制作人 和表演艺术家—— 所有这些都使我有资格成为主流的、粉饰的 新时代能接受的酷儿。 凯特。 凯特的学历来自非洲最好的大学之一， 哦不，全世界最好的大学之一。 与凯特有关联的身份肯定不会是 那些棕色皮肤的小孩， 在答迪塞丁这样的铁路居住区， 满大街奔跑玩耍， 或像卡霍迪这样的偏远村庄， 腿上裹着一层尘土，膝盖变黑， 因为常年跪着给地板抛光打蜡， 大腿上刻着爬树的教训， 一直玩到天黑 才回家吃饭， 吃完再出去到蜈蚣和 猫头鹰的世界里捉迷藏， 直到最后某个妈妈把所有人赶回家。 那一切都在翻译和过渡中丢失了， 当我意识到这一点时， 我决定是时候开始把 自己的各部分关系起来了。 为了我和想了解我的人， 我必须开始把我的酷儿身份本土化。 我说本土化的意思是剥掉都市生活的外衣， 那层让你看不到内心村娃的外衣。 生活在棕色皮肤、酷儿、非裔 都值得存在的时代， 有很多意义，却与乡村没关系， 我担心那些让我们走到今天的 痛苦挣扎正在被遗忘。 第一次在村里以酷儿身份出现时， 我刚20出头，我穿了件长袍。 有些亲人和陌生人嘲笑我穿裙子。 我对他们的品评如此反驳： 我们这些“不属于这里”的人， 比他们强，我们受过教育， 我们不屑一顾，“他们不懂。” 当然我错了，因为我当时对博学的理解 基于让自己脱离第三世界的思想和生活。 但我花了很长时间才意识到， 我的自豪行为， 在穿梭于世界各大城市时 并不是最生动的， 反而在我会说本地语言和 会玩游戏的村庄里， 在感觉像家的村庄里， 我才能自豪地说， “我走遍世界， 我知道像我这样的人并不孤单， 我们无处不在。” 我用家乡来反省自我， 也给“不属于这里”的其他人带来希望。 使我的酷儿身份本土化， 是要融合我自己的许多特殊部分。 它意味着尊重一些事实， 比如我的舌头会打卷， 能说出那些浪漫的语言， 也不去否认或排斥另一些事实， 当我被感动时会这样：
(Ululating)
（呜呜长音）
It means --
它的意思是——
(Cheers)
（欢呼）
(Applause)
（掌声）
It means branding cattle with my mother or chopping firewood with my cousins doesn't make me any less fabulous or queer, even though I'm now accustomed to rooftop shindigs, wine-paired menus and VIP lounges.
它的意思是，跟母亲一起养牛， 或者跟表兄弟一起劈柴， 并不会减少我的精彩， 或让我不那么酷儿， 虽然我现在习惯了屋顶狂欢、红酒配菜， 和贵宾候机室。
(Laughter)
（笑声）
It means wearing my pride through my grandmother's tongue, my mother's food, my grandfather's song, my skin etched with stories of falling off donkeys and years and years and years of sleeping under a blanket of stars. If there's any place I don't belong, it's in a mind where the story of me starts with the branch of me being queer and not with my rural roots. Indigenizing my queerness means understanding that the rural is a part of me, and I am an indelible part of it.
它其实意味着我的自豪， 来自祖母的舌头、 母亲的食物、祖父的歌， 我身上刻满寓言故事， 还有睡在星空下的一年又一年。 如果说我“不属于”某个地方， 那应该是从酷儿身份开始认识我的人， 那些不了解我乡村根源的人。 让我的酷儿属性本土化 意味着要理解， 乡村是我的一部分， 我是乡村的一分子。
Thank you.
谢谢。 （掌声）