A "gender journey" poem. Each stanza, I get older. December 2020.
My pronouns are they/them. I am nonbinary.
(CW for internalized transphobia/homophobia and descriptions of dysphoria.)
I want to be a president.
The first girl president.
I like the colors pink and yellow.
I wear my hair long and braided.
I make friends and play kitchen and house.
I want to carry chairs for my teacher.
Only strong boys can carry the chairs.
I help her pass out papers instead.
I am sweet and good and quiet.
It's still long, but shorter now.
My family puts me in Christmas dresses.
I feel like I can't breathe.
I donate it to other girls.
They need it more than I do.
I should be thankful, they say.
Women are jealous of my hair.
Why do they hide their faces?
Their smiles make me feel like flying.
I don't like it when they look at me.
I see another girl and smile.
I shouldn't feel this way.
I am a girl and it hurts.
I am a girl and I hide in my jacket.
I am a girl and my body is suffocating.
I am a girl and I cry in the bathroom.
I am a sinner because I wish I was different.
I want to hide when I look in the mirror.
I can't hide. I just stare back.
A girl tells me she is bi.
She explains and I know she is guilty.
She is guilty of the crime I also committed.
She is beautiful and kind and hurting.
I understand. She is a girl.
A boy at our table says that we are lesbians.
He is angry. I don't care.
She looks at me and understands.
We are both girls. And it hurts.
I think I like girls. And boys. Does it matter?
They scorn the gentle sinners.
I talk to my friend and find others.
Some of us are girls. Some of us are gays. All of us are sinners.
I learn that there are others like me.
We are hated but we stick together.
I found a boy who was like me.
He was a girl, too. He changed.
I am not like him. I am not a boy.
I am a girl when my friend becomes a boy.
He tells me on the phone and I understand.
He grew out of his jacket.
I am hurting and I am quiet.
I find a girl, no, a person.
Something I have not heard of.
I learn when we're together.
I embrace what I don't understand.
I bring them money for their birthday.
They flatten their chest and cry with relief.
They grew out of their jacket.
I crossed their deadname from the wall when they left.
I'm not sure what to do about it.
I have learned that I love all genders.
Why does gender have to matter?
When people ask, I am a girl.
My heart flutters when I am mistaken
I am not a boy but it sticks with me.
I cut my hair. My family is angry.
My family is angry but I am free.
I am not a girl or a boy.
I am something inside of myself.
I am a "she" in the way of a pirate's ship.
My gender is like the ocean.
Never discernible. Never quite the same.
I am still friends with the boy that outgrew his jacket.
I tell him and suddenly I outgrow mine.
He calls me "they" for the first time.
I change schools because the world is falling apart.
When I change schools, I feel different.
They all call me by a name that isn't suffocating.
They don't know to call me anything else.
Both of them had outgrown the jackets they hid in.
It warmed something inside of me.
The teachers used their pronouns.
I have told this to some friends.
The ones who stay use my pronouns.
They know, they know that
I feel like I can fly. I shed my jacket again.
I express my identity as I see fit.
I wear jackets when I need to,
But they seem lighter now.
I am made stronger by the acceptance of myself.
I hope to one day leave my jacket behind.
An amazing poem by @https://queer-person-crowe.tumblr.com/! We are so thankful for their contribution to our page. Follow them and show them some love for this excellent piece!