Trans Day of Visibility

Trans Day of Visibility

03/30/2017/Gender Dysphoria
I can run in my dreams
Across green meadows
Without a pain
From the weight on my chest

I can hike in my dreams
Up tall mountains
Without the straps
Displacing the mass of breasts

I can rest my elbows in my dreams
Upon my wide-spread knees
Without whispers of immodesty
Because of the hole

I can be intimate in my dreams
With many a lover
Without the worry of freezing up
Because of the lack of a pole

Until the nightmares come
And then I am left screaming
Myself awake in fear
That something was taken from me

Until the night mares come
To show me violent
Potential reasons
Why I have the “wrong” anatomy

Today is Trans Day of Visibility, so it is only fitting that I post a poem about myself. I came out as genderfluid almost four years ago, because I was too afraid to admit, even to myself, that I was trans. Truthfully, it wasn’t until I started researching gender that I realized that transgender was “a thing” because I was raised in a conservative bubble. In that bubble, the only people who were trans were characterized as sexually deviant men in women’s lingerie. This cliché is incredibly damaging to all sorts of people. Not only does it make people like me feel lost and question our sanity, but it also creates a block for cis people to overcome in understanding. Gender is a social construct, sex is biology, neither have only two options. It took me long enough to learn that, that I was suicidal from daily nightmares and the lack of support from those around me. I am much better now that I have come out, to myself and others, and am now on a journey to improve my life instead of end it.

P.S. I crocheted the roses in the pic, that’s why this is posted this evening instead of this morning.

Trigger Project: Ableist Slurs

Trigger Project: Ableist Slurs

This is the first poem in my Trigger Project. This project is exploring my PTSD through poetry, so there will be a warning as the featured image for each entry of the project.

12/05/16/ Not St*pid
Hey St*pid!
What are ya, st*pid?
Com’ere, St*pid.
Quid being st*pid.
Even when not accompanied by a blow
I flinch at the word
Fix your handwriting, St*pid.
It’s a “d” not a “b”, St*pid.
If you weren’t so st*pid, you could do this
It’s almost better to get beat
Because those scars heal and fade faster
Than this word branded on my brain
Pull your head out, St*pid!
God, can’t you just do it right?
You’re too st*pid to pass
The worst part
Is how I keep proving them right
Too st*pid to graduate on time
Too st*pid for my first major
And two minors in a row
Too st*pid to keep a job
Too st*pid to stop flinching
Too st*pid to not cry when speaking
Too st*pid to ignore them
Too st*pid to just get over it
And too st*pid to die