that is ok even if others say it is not.
i cannot describe the feeling of my gender to others cause it is not gender.
i am the moss covered stones, the rotting logs, and the life that grows from the dead.
i am the wind whistling through leaves, the creaking of the trees, the soft glow of fireflies.
i cannot describe my gender for it is not gender it just is
so why do i miss being proud of being a woman? proud of a label that never fit right?
i was never a woman, not really
or how feminine i present
no matter the body that i am in,
i was always put in dresses and given babies to take care of
i was put in pigtails and a cute outfit, and i was told not to get it dirty. back then i wanted to be in the mud, i sometimes wish that part of me came back.
i felt righteous anger when the teacher asked the boys who could be strong and move the chairs. girls could be strong too, so i moved the chairs.
i got catcalled more back then too, back when i was a girl. i remember some of the boys never looking me in the eye cause they had something else to stare at. when those same boys used to beat me up every chance they got i was told to be nice to them, that maybe they just liked me and didn’t know how to show it
i remember going from collecting rocks, to barbies, to silly bands, to littlest pet shops, to monster high dolls
i hated being told that pink was the perfect colour for me. it just became a colour synonymous with all the weakness that came with being a girl
but then i grew to love pink. i grew to love being a girl and how strong that made me. i was proud.
then i realized that i was not a woman. that no matter what anyone else said about it, woman is not a label meant for me
my skin finally feels like mine but it feels like I have lost a piece of my soul.
even now i see the extra kindness i am given because i look as tho i am a woman
i see the smiles, the opening of doors, the offering to help carry things that are heavy
and i know that strangers are not just kind to those that present like me,
but I also know that there is a reason they are staring at me. sometimes i wonder if they think we don't realize where their eyes are boring holes.
i still deal with so much of what it means to be a woman but it feels as though i am a fraud when i speak up,
how can i take up a woman's space when i am not one?
i get treated as a woman and grew up as a girl but i feel like an outsider
i made myself an outsider
it hurts feeling as though i am stuck behind an invisible wall,
but I would choose this path over and over and over again.
i am finally in my own skin, some days less so than others,
but this is me and i will never regret that. in fact i'd rather live life not regretting a single thing because those are just memories that make me who i am.
i may not like myself but i do love myself. i love the little girl who never got enough love. the little girl who was let down by so many people but remained kind and loving despite that.
now im just a moss who that little girl would feel safe with,
