Dysphoric Disco of Nebulae


My personality and voice were white.

                Of course, these descriptors were perfectly right.

My physiognomy and intelligence were Asian.

                Small eyes and an inclination to math were clear indications.

My kin and genetics were Mexican.

                No one knew that, even those claiming to be next to me.


My body was skinny.

                I was ideal among young girls.

My appetite was fat.

                I was odd among young girls.

My demeanor was boyish.

                I was not ideal among young girls.


I preferred to be seen as one of the young boys:

strong and rowdy, funny and independent,

not quite like the little girls:

weak and quiet, serious and dependent.


Not much has changed.

However, I've grown much more quiet,

much more comformative,

much more fearful,

much more uncomfortable around boys and girls,

and my existence is still yet to be equitable.


Society interprets things how it chooses.

                Society interprets me as a thing.

Society chooses what things to notice.

                Society chooses me because I’m pleasing.

Society notices things when it chooses.

                Society notices me when it’s convenient.



I want colour;

I want distinction;

I want freedom.

At least that’s what I think I want.


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