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i slept in my binder last night, the fabric compressing tight holding my ribs close
it came to me under the guise of well-meaning concern for my body, my chemicals, my family, my voice, my potential future lovers
I need to shower but my skin is burningI need to have the firey hot water wash away my tears But I can’t seem to unclasp the only thing keeping me from ripping my own body apartI need to wash the lies of I’m fine out of my hair and the lies out of
What is normal?In the womb,I was God’s perfect creation,His treasured possession,Fearfully and wonderfully made.When I was born,The doctor cried out:It’s a girl!As they rushed me down the hall to NICU.When I was in kindergarten they told us to sta
To the person in my aisle picking up the box of mini wheats, I know. To the person in my aisle who my mom had to look at twice to see if they were a boy or girl,I understand. To the person in my aisle who people won’t stop whispering about,don’
You are the reminder of a life that i was never meant to exist in, the life of shattered mirrors and holes punched into walls.
They say “God doesn't make mistakes” as a way of telling us we're wrong for wanting – No – For needing to be ourselves. It's not a mistake that I'm transgender. How could it be a mistake
Binary. Ones and zeros. Female and male. Homosexual and heterosexual. Black and white. Right and wrong. Your world is small when you cut out infinity.
Terrible. Tasteless. Taboo. All are words to describe, What I long for. It doesn't hurt me, It doesn't hurt you, So why does it matter? Terrific.
Adjusting the disgusting bra on my chest, I flip ratty, old dress over my head. Glancing in the mirror, I feel so wrong.
I am trapped in the closet, Such a scary place, With monsters around me, About to bite my face. I hold on for dear life, Day after day, Waiting, just waiting, Will I fade away?
When I look in the mirror I see a face rottiong away I don't know who she is But I know it's not who I am What am I? Who is she? Why's this mirror always lying to me ?
it’s not easy to explain, or maybe it’s easy But i just don’t know the right words or maybe i have the right words
Do you know what it feels like, To run your fingers through the freshly shorn grass Behind your ears, For the first time, And to feel the steady crackle of your heartbeat, Burning like a hearth, like home.
you you are a black hole you consume everything you touch and collapse in upon yourself when there is no more for you to hold tightly to the void that trickles like ink when you speak
They've written "pink" in permanent ink on everything I own: my body's curves, my voice's verve - they scratched it into stone. The word is there on everything I have and have not known -
I am not a girl or a woman or a bitch - not a daughter or a lady or a mistress or a maybe - I invite the saints to hate me for my gender's inner glitch - for the figure in my coding
When I was 8 I wore dresses to school I wasa bullied and teased for looking nice For wearing dresses and pink and being girly When I was 13 I stopped wearing dresses I cut my hair to my chin and I didn't wear pink
infants are stamped to maximize efficiency to help society run smoothly, you understand yes, they're stamped right between their chubby little legs categorized in neat little boxes
She calls us “petulant, self-indulgent” My voice cracks Society says we’re hot for now Look at all the new inclusive media! Within ourselves, us othered folk
Every day I wake up in the wrong body The misconceptions it causes make me feel less like a miss and more like a mistake
You might think you aren't seen You might think I'm unaware But I know those looks all too well The stares and glances The whispers behind hands The words "Is that a boy or girl?"
A human body is made up of trillions of cells Those cells form together to make people People vary in size from babies the size of a hand To still growing adults above eight feet tall
There is a lot of stake in labels today Labels for prices in colorful grocery aisles, tags naming fine wines and distilled beers Landowners and titles letting it known readily to others; information,
when you were little, did you ever play hide and seek? there’s always one kid who hides in the closetif it was you, you know whythe closet’s warm and dark and quiet and as long as you stay silent, no one can tell you’re there