When Dionysus was born he was wrapped in a pink blanket and laid in the nursery among the girls

 

A bastard child born of an affair he was hidden away from Heras wrathful eyes

 

At age six on his birthday, he was given the newest barbie and the dress of a princess

 

At age ten he sat giggling with the other girls at the lunch table, gossip and drama flowed like wine

 

At age thirteen he wondered why the image in his head didn't match his physical body

 

When he spoke out he was hushed

 

Zeus doesn't make mistakes

 

You are perfect the way you are

 

While his friends went through puberty he went through depression

 

Surely his parents were right, surely he just needed to paint his nails more often and apply his lipstick better

 

At age twenty when he looked in the mirror, he did not recognize himself

 

After some soul searching he uncovered the truth

 

He was not a mortal but a god, not a woman but a man

 

He did not walk up to the gates of Olympus

 

No, he sashayed up to them and demanded a seat

 

He let the chains of society that had previously bind him fall away

 

When we march in our parades we march for ourselves

 

We march for the next generation

 

And we march for our God