It's a waterfall.
You know, the kind that cascades hard like
the white water rafting trips' featured waves
and just when you think they've calmed,
they're back even stronger.

They said they had their suspicions.
You've been more flamboyant.
You don't want to dress like your gender.
Stereotype, stereotype, stereotype.

But to be accused,
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US
To be yelled at,
YOU THOUGHT WE WERE DISAPPOINTED IN YOU THEN?
To wish you were anywhere else but here...
Somewhere over the rainbow...

But I'll never be over the rainbow.
Contrary to her belief,
it's not a phase or something I'll grow out of.
It's genetic.
Contrary to his thinking,
it's not helping
when all my communication with
others is severed.

I'm gay.
There, I admit it.

It's not like I'm gonna scream it from the rooftops, and no,
it's not the reason that I really like bowties and short hair.

Can't you just
accept me?

The final blow
is when your family
decides you're too good
for that type of lifestyle.

WHAT MORE CAN I DO TO IMPRESS YOU?
I've tried my whole life to make you proud.

I guess this just goes to show
that being myself
will never be enough.

So leave me to my cascades and wet cheeks in bed-why do you care-
because we all know you're wishing I'm something I'm not.
Someone I'm not.

Disowning me
would have been the
far superior alternative
to the disappointment.

"Our youngest daughter is just like her father, but looks like her mother. And our oldest daughter? She looks like her father, but acts like her mother. Well...she did."

I'm angry
I'm angry that this is the world we live in
I'm angry that I can't walk down the street without being harassed
I'm angry that I constantly have to think about how people will react to what I wear
I'm angry about the everyday inconveniences this world has made for me
But more than anything I'm angry that I have to think twice about helping an elderly man into his car
I'm angry that today there was a disabled man slowly pushing his wheelchair across the parking lot and I didn't help him
Because that's the world we have created
A world where we are consistently aware that even by being good we can be punished
I am so angry that I sat there and watched that man for ten minutes
And didn't move because how could I know that he wasn't another Ted Bundy
How could I know
We have created a world with such a deep chasm of distrust that I can't even believe that this poor man was truly disabled
As a woman I have to be afraid of a man in a wheelchair
A man who seemingly cannot walk still has the ability to terrify me
I am so angry
That I am limited
Not only by the things that I wear and the places in which I can go alone
But I am limited in my ability to make the world a better place
I am limited
And I am angry

A couple of weeks ago my aunt asked me,
what the first thing I noticed about a girl is.

''Her hands''.

The conversation quickly turned *****,
''you just want to know what they are able to do to you''.

At first,
I thought it was funny,
almost agreeing with the statement that had been made but then,
I realised that we all want what we can't have.
Looking down on my own hands for ages thinking that I wish they could just function.
I have been looking for the hands I have never had,
in the girls I have been debating whether or not they were,
girlfriend material,
judging my looks,
my hands,
my shape and my face while other girls wants what I have.

After realising just that,
I decided that from now on,
I will stop looking at hands and look into their eyes instead.

(e.k.j.)

I was just getting a coffee
Grabbed a seat and shut my eyes
My son was in for testing
Having trouble with his eyes

The room was full of parents
Also waiting on some tests
But over in the corner
Sat one boy not like the rest

He was in a wheelchair setup
With knobs and flags, all sorts of gear
He looked at me and smiled
"you're new...I've not seen you here"

I smiled, mumbled something
He smiled back, said "it's ok."
Then he wheeled himself beside me
And said "Sir, your life will change today"

"Your son will come back to you"
"There are things he'll have to do"
"He can only do so much though"
"The rest is up to you"

"Don't look on him as challenged"
"your son, is still the same"
"he's now....a different kind of normal"
"If you must give it a name"

"A child born with no sight"
"That is normal ....don't you see?"
"What's normal to that child"
"Is just not the same for you and me"

"It's a different kind of normal"
"That's the best thing you can say"
"For a child without eyesight"
"you just find a different way"

"How do you know the feeling"
"Of something you've not had?|
"If you've never caught a football"
"Would missing it be bad?"

"It's just a different kind of normal"
"That's all that I can say"
"I've never run or jumped"
"But, I still learned to play"

This boy, was something special
Someone special, heaven sent
I was learning things for nothing
And to me that's money well spent

"A person adapts to whatever"
"it is they have to change"
"It's just a different kind of normal"
"And it's really not so strange"

"Who says just what is normal?"
"We're all different in some way"
"Whether hindered by our bodies"
"Or by things along the way"

"To label one as special"
"or as challenged, or just ill"
"It limits them forever"
"It equates them down to nil"

"Just think we all are equal"
"We just don't all act the same"
"We're a different kind of normal"
"And to us, it's not a game"

He touched my hand real gently
More like a feather on my skin
He said, "My name is Simon"
"And I'm glad that you came in"

"Just think of what I told you"
"Just take some time, once I am gone"
"We're all a different kind of normal"
"Now you know...so...pass it on."

Cold tile, legs Indian style,
Two hands holding one head
as I reflect on all the ways I
wish I could change myself.

Thick thighs that have always touched;
Stretch marks that extend longer than
my ambition;
An Italian *** that threatens to take over
my five foot of frame.

And then one night she calls me and says "Sis, I wish I could be a model like you…"
And stomach twists and falls in my gut,
as I struggle to find the words to tell her she's perfect just as she is.

Stumbling speech
matched with an unfiltered tongue.
A laugh that will break eardrums and hard hearts.
She says "Sis, maybe one day you can teach me
to read so I can go to college,"
while she tightens the Velcro that holds her
21 year old feet still,
because she never quite understood
where the bunny went.

See she’s what the doctors calls mentally *******;
genetically martyred to die in a society that tells her
she's imperfect.

And now here she is,
my sister, my reflection on
cold tile with legs Indian style;
Her two hands holding one head,
Reflecting on all the ways
she wishes could change herself
to be pretty normal like me...

And I ask myself,  what have I taught her?

Trying to find the words to say but I can't
I feel like I am drowning in my own words
Let me talk let me say what I want
I can talk just give me a minute to think
Times up  no I am ready to speak

What does it say about me, then, that to make life would take mine away?

Dear Teacher,
I am not your "Inspiration" nor am I your "Motivation"
Do not use me as an "Example"
They hate me enough already
I do not need to talk to you after class, I am doing just fine
Bs aren't acceptable?
I'm sorry I couldn't complete your assignment
I was mentally ill that day.
No, don't give me an A when I didn't work for it
That's cheating
Me
Out of life
Yes I can handle it
I'm not as Weak as you think I am
Dear Teacher
I know I made you cry at graduation
You didn't think I'd be able to do it
I told you
I could handle it.