For a little over a year I was apart of a support team in a Community Accountability process to address a sexual assault. It was a trying and transformative process to say the least. If you are interested in alternatives … Continue reading
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 ?
I think The Transgender Day of Remembrance is important but I don’t want to mourn today. I’m tired of crying, grieving, and worrying. My spirit is tired of worrying for the safety of my people as we walk down the street. I live in constant state of worry that the next post or call will be about someone even closer to me than the last.
I think TDOR is important but I don’t want to mourn today. I want to celebrate. These days trans people are taking up space like never before. Taking charge of organizations and movements, fighting the oppression that targets and kills us while creating spaces to just be our beautiful selves. We are witnessing a shift in our overall tolerance for the violence against our bodies and the transphobia and transmisogyny which perpetrates it. Young people and trans women of color especially have been ripping through their local communities and college campuses telling their stories of survival and self determination. They are blazing a trail of social change across this country, protesting against the many layers of oppression impacting all our lives.
More than ever today I want to celebrate my brothers, bois, and genderqueer friends. With the much needed focus on the violence and murder of TWOC its easy to feel invisible. Too often the face of transgender anything is only trans feminine. The politics of “passing”, sexism, and patriarchy tend to pigeon hole trans masculine and NGC people. Non gender conforming and trans masculine people exist and need love support and appreciation for the actions we take for our collective liberation as well.
Trans masculine people have been unapologetically living out loud celebrating the spectrum of identity and expression that exists among us in new empowering ways. I want yall to know I see you bois, transmen, MOC, and non binary peeps we appreciate the perspective and passion you bring to the community. I see you behind the scenes of protests, events, vigils and potlucks. Resisting the postures and trappings of sexism, misogyny, and the patriarchy while loving yourself and others in revolutionary ways. While others are talking about allyship and solidarity I am proud to say I know many brothers who are living it. Together we all bring a spectrum of resiliency, creativity, and love to society.
We have lost too many this year and seem to constantly have reasons to shed tears but as we dry those tears lets remember the laughter and victories too. As we continue to #sayhername, scream #blacklivesmatter, and demand justice for TWOC lets remember Bois, trans men, genderqueers, and non binary people need your love and advocacy too. Lets just celebrate all of us today cause we still here , we real powerful, and we real cute too.
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.
We do not have to agree on everything for me to be your fan, supporter, and a person who enjoys seeing you do well. This is apart of what it means for me to practice solidarity. If we truly believe that our freedom and happiness is tied together across many intersections then when I shine you shine and vis versa. Competition can be fun but is often bred in us to keep us divi
ded. We have to intentionally work against the urges to compare and compete for profit over people. A common challenge to this are our own insecurities and ignorance of self. When you are ok with who you are you don’t need to compare nor do you feel threatened at others’ success. Now someone else’s success or shine at the expense of my peeps or liberation politic thats another story.