Isabella X I often find myself asking Who are You? You who knows my violence my history my dysphoria my reality so completely, You who knows my sick my body my struggle so well that you can assign me Man? Or Woman? Or Slur? Or Reality? Then I remember that Man and Woman have been defining my magic since the beginning of time. In my story Adam and Eve don't listen. They stomp through the garden without any guidance from God. They appoint themselves King and Queen and when the one destined to be cursed got tired of being called the wrong name they struck back and toppled them off of their thrones. Man and Woman have been defining others' realities on earth ever since. Like self-appointed Gods who never learned to listen to the prayers of the people. We beg them to listen to the prayers of the people but they prove themselves incapable or don't care enough to try so they call us things like Sir and Miss then Sin and Evil. And when we scream Struggle Strike back fangs bared They cut off our legs then kick us out of Eden So we can wander the earth scorned and crawling on our bellies If we survived the fall. But we are more magic and mistake and resistance and survival than they will ever know. We are eternities of crawling across the jagged earth on our bellies fighting for the day that we will stand. We are grit and venom and our elegance, our lives will no longer be ignored. We are here. And we will strike at your heels until you learn to listen. And learn to bless your tongues with our names.