Having to cut myself in order to be free very conflicting.
Insanity according to my mother.
Being called she when you’re really mostly he
An insanely isolating pain.
Surviving in an a vessel that doesn’t fully express you
is a deep slow gnawing at the soul, weighting down the mind type pain.
Feeling foreign in the only body you have ever known,
walking around fully invisible like he they refuse to see in she,
living between pink or blue
constantly being punished and dismissed for giving zero fucks about pink or blue.
Can leave some thirsty for a dip in the shark tank
dreaming for the relief of the shark’s bite.
To tare down to rebuild is as old as time.
This taring is a mending.
A racing towards death for rebirth.
Chest flexes in the mirror like a 30 year old teenage boi.
Long deep scars stare back at me, invoking my wild shark tale.
For leaning into her mouth and surviving the
assault of the shark’s teeth some have called me brave.
More like desperate. I felt so fucking desperate.
Out of desperation I jumped into shark infested waters.
Out of desperation my body chose the surgeon’s knife,
increasing the chasm between my mother and I,
becoming a stranger to my brothers,
and more of a mystery to lovers.
I wont justify my body or defend my choices.
Their eyes whisper Insanity
at the sight of my transgressive temple
I don’t have the words to explain
why I rather a scar than a breast
my insides cringe at the thought of explaining my body
every time I have sex
I wont justify my body
How do I say I’m a man when the thought of you makes my pussy drip?
How do I explain to them that I am they, him and her but prefer he most of the time?
Their eyes whisper Insanity at the sight of my transgressive temple.
Next comes ignorant questions painting me into narrow boxes marked exotic, oddities, and experiments.
The tooth of a shark scraped my chest.
I left my breasts behind on a surgeon’s table in Florida
He ripped away a complicated part of me
Pain like never before.
I am healing.
Like never before.
They were ripped away so on paper I could be re gendered
When I left them behind did I ditch the binary mythology or cosign it?
Today the M in place of the F is a new Mis gendering.
Did I reject my body or this society?
Did I dismiss, embrace, or redefine myself?
What else did I leave on the surgeon’s table?
What do I have besides just another cliché ass shark tale ?
Letting go of the pacifiers and tools we have developed to survive is a daily challenge. How does one move forward when the very things that once propelled you through your darkest moments are now hindering you?
Music is a big part of my self care practices. I have songs for everything.This summer I deleted most of the gospel music from my music library. When I get really emo and home sick, missing my mother in particular, I fiend for my gospel hits. My mother put me on to Fred Hammond and my old soul gravitated towards Shirley Cesar and Betty Griffin Keller when I was teenager. I think I love gospel music for the same reasons I love rap music, it is fantasy, myths, truths, and reflections of the black experience wrapped in the drama and creativity that happens when Africans make music. I think some call it soul. They both weave stories of our lives with a boldness that speaks to the core of what it means to be human.
On the flip side I can only listen to but so much of both gospel and rap music because with those reflections come the legacy of violence, trauma , self hate, and all the other isms that color our experience as Africans in Amerikkka. The music I’ve used to get through in the past can perpetuate the same things I’m working daily to unlearn and resist.
My use of gospel music as a coping mechanism and false sense of security was blocking my ability to develop sustainable tools for dealing with reality. The tools that are instrumental to this thing called liberation. Its difficult to take the meat and leave the bones in any situation. There are still many songs both rap and gospel that I will use as tools of survival and inspiration but every now and than you gotta clean house and reduce some harm.
Its a difficult tightrope I walk every time I click through my iPod. Music is powerful it can indoctrinate you with your oppressors propaganda while showering you with the strength needed to step back from the myths again and again.
Nestled in the glow of our brown tones side by side, Her curls ticked my nose, the softness of her cheeks warm my body. With her fists she gently beats on my chest and whispers “I just don’t want to be here anymore.”Had to pull her closer as my body silently rang back… “Me neither.”
I’ve held too many people as they weep for their lives. Thirsty for a reason to stay. Silently screaming. Floating on smiles saying “I’m fine” while everything within wants to die.
If you didn’t hear me before please hear me now. We need you. Please love please don’t go! Let’s make our love everything we need to survive.
Let’s love like we’re our own life rafts
built to survive the moments when the waves of sadness come crashing down. Just Let our love. Even when the weight of the world shallows our breaths and bends our backs into prayers and depression. We will find the strength to stand again through the doors unlocked by the moans of our sex magic. Let our love as our bodies collide, sing, and stir divinity together.
Let’s love like we’re our own foundation rooted in the beauty sparked
when our minds touch. My body aches to hear you speak in the moments when we merge. Let our love be our favorite melody in the key of healing. Soothing Restoring Creativity. Please don’t rob me of the freedom I feel when you sing to me. Just let our love carry us like the clever sting of a good read with the power of sharp words.
Love, please hear me now. I need you to survive.
I’ve held too many people as they weep for their lives. Thirsty for a reason to stay. Silently screaming. Floating on smiles saying “I’m fine” while everything within wants to die. Love please don’t go. Let’s be everything we need to survive.