By My Own Hands

Who are you to shape this body?

Putting your arms around me

guiding my hands to mold me into what you believe me to be

Who are you to whisper in my ear wear this, do that, be her

You and I are not the same. I am me and you are her.

You are the constant pressure to be her.

You are the voices that say, “You better never cut your hair”

“I bet you’d look so pretty in this dress”

You are the false beliefs built from a fundamental misunderstanding of the body’s complexity

The result of years and years of misinformation, hatred, and little boxes labeled “male” and “female”

You and I? We are not one and the same and we never were.

By my own hands I mold my future.

By my own hands I will take what I need to be me.

By my own hands I will be me, and nothing you can do will take these hands away from me.

This poem is about: 
Me

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