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Casey Sep 25
Prompt: Explain the story behind a picture from your camera roll
(date of picture taken: August 30th, 2019)


The picture is a simple mirror selfie, but the story has more to do with what I was wearing.
Earlier that day, I went to the mall to shop for my homecoming outfit with
my friend, (REDACTED).
It seems trivial to someone else, I guess, but to me, it was a big deal.
It was because I could drive and because we were at the mall against
my dad's wishes that added to my nervousness of it all.
I went to the boy's section of the clothing store because I'm really short,
and (REDACTED) helped me pick out a suit.
My first suit.
Just wearing the suit jacket, I couldn't help but smile like an idiot.
It was so....right.
I don't know how else to explain it.
It was as if all those little pieces just fell into place and everything felt
all right.
For once, everything in that moment felt good and perfect.
I didn't care about the curious looks from the middle-aged moms.
I felt....euphoric?
Euphoric.
Gender euphoria.
Bede Sep 23
What is it, how can we tell?
Are we forced into it, a cell?
A trapped enclosure, a set of ways
Dedicated to telling one how to be.

Not inherently bad,
But dangerous,
When we talk about
Dreaded gender.

Keep your codes for morals
Let me wear my skirt.
My dressed all lay dusty
Because I was afraid I would be
Looked at
As lesser.

No longer,
For I am truly,
Not akin to a single
Form of gender.

The one true way
That of self-realization
Comes from the acknowledgement
That I am me
Male, female, none, both.
I am Bede.
Boy
When I stare at my face,
And look deep in the mirror,

It's never the love that creeps in,
Always the 'horror'

I see a girl standing there.
An average looking girl.

She's not to tall,
But also not short.

She has brown hair up to her shoulders,
With blue and indigo streaks in it.

She's wearing pants that are a little bit too big,
Because her disorders make her lose weight.

She's wearing a red and black 'lumberjack blouse'
It's a little too big, it's from the men's departement.

She has a pretty small mouth,
But her lips are pink, and kind of plumped

She has bushy eyebrows,
But not in an **** way?

She has beautiful grey, blue, green eyes.
It depends on the day and her mood.

She has a little bit of a crooked nose,
That a tiny bit too big for her face.

She has a chubby face, not so much
But she's a little chubby over all.

She has braces on her teeth,
But that's pretty common these days.

She has a pretty normal body,
Normal figure, a little on the "fat" side.

She has an arm full of scars,
But they have always been there, so it's fine.

And all of the above,
Every day that's what I see.
But what I see in the mirror,

She's a girl.

She   is   not   me.
Dysphoria Days.
Trout Sep 2
I am a shell of a man in the shadow of a girl
Ashley Kaye Sep 2
Are you
the lonely wailing on the radio
or a smile for the screen

The strings do they pull
upward
or down
poor corners of your mouth
sore fleshy cheeks

leave the bone below for your own mind
Cream teeth molded to what the you believed
they want of you

Woman or man or he or she or him or they their
We admonish expectation.
September 2, 2019
albatross Aug 20
You never act like a boy,
or a girl,
You act neither,
let me give you some reminders:

You walk neither,
sway your hands in ambiguity,
don’t carry with you a briefcase or a feather duster –

Talk neither,
the tone of your voice must be the interim of everything,
if it would have colors it must be colorless,
not dark navy nor shallow pink.

Think neither,
meaning you think without personality.
you don’t scatter petals prior the arguments,
nor you hide stringencies behind moon blasts –

You become neither –
you call no one man, nor woman woman,
you call every one neither –

So smile neither,
meaning you don’t smirk,
or coyly carve a canopy on your face,

it’s offending.

You don’t want to offend anyone, do you?
Neither do I.
Bruno Aug 15
My birth certificate was written in the blood “she”
(I, me, they) would one day shed from the bleeding body
Given to me by who knows what (how does it bleed without being
Cut) because my ***** is not cognitive of what it is (nothing)
To me and my period is done to me you can’t know what it does
To me but it has nothing (nothing) to do with me

And I’ll never be able to speak of the violence it acts on me
To bleed (and bleed) and be called “she”
Because wars have been fought in my ***** (does
This mean I’m a war criminal) and I am all scars and all blood and my body
Is not a graveyard because a graveyard holds something but I hold nothing
I want to hold (nothing) for my period to stop being

Misgendered because “shesheshe” is not my being
“She” wants to be a prophecy but the violence of “she” slices me
The repetition of “she” of the tiny letter “F” in blood ink does (nothing)
Does battles on me (does violence) because the repetition of “she”
Is not enough to create a prophecy and words do not change my body
Believe me I have tried (I have tried) but nothing does

Because my body is vein-seeped concrete my body does
Everything I don’t want it to but somehow without being
My enemy because the wars fought in my ***** (on my body)
Were not fought by me and the violence of my body is not me
It is every ******* who has called me “she”
And the violence of my period compared to “she” is nothing

But my period wouldn’t be violent if it was labelled as nothing
If “she” wasn’t written in blood my period wouldn’t do what it does
(To me) but blood has no gender I have no gender “she”
Is not my *****’s gender because my ***** is an ***** being
Exactly what it’s supposed to be not “she” but me
(I, they) functioning as a reminder of the wars fought on my body

The concrete gravestones tumbled on my body
The victory celebration on my body where violence is nothing
Because “she” is nothing not concrete or a graveyard to me
So I will mishear “she” and I am free from what it does
From my birth certificate blood drenched burning “she”
Is gone my violence is gone I have brought myself (they, I) into being and

My body is not a graveyard it is a sanctuary “she”
Cannot enter nothing but my they-being
Can enter because I (me, they) know what it does
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Sarah Adams Aug 5
I saw what the world wanted me to be
I saw the projections  and figures everywhere
I saw the expectations, the social constructs
the suggestions, the insistence
and then
i stopped looking
I took away the mirror and let it fall to the floor
a million pieces
I invited my seven years of bad luck
so I could stop looking.
I looked within myself instead.
I stood on the edge of the mountain, where society wanted to push me over the edge
I stood on the edge of the ocean, where it wanted the waves to drown me
I clung to the earth, where it's winds and currents would rather have me swept away.
I stood there and I screamed.
I bellowed into the deepest valley, and across the sea
I wanted every ear to feel the sound
I howled until my lungs felt free
" E N O U G H "
rejecting the false image pushed upon me
I looked within myself and found the universe when the earth wanted to swallow me whole.
My reflection belongs to me,
this world cannot contain me
but it tried to own me
Self liberated
from imposed shackles.
alex Jul 20
when i say
“i want you to come home”
i’m talking to the woman
i was always expected to be

i don’t miss her and
i don’t love her
but she would make it
a little less messy.
being nonbinary. i’m not the woman from the story that the womb told; i’m even bigger than that.
Zeth Jul 18
The pronoun I can't use
Is him in "I love you"
Cause him is meant for she
And he for him can't be.

But I am not me
If he for him can't be
Cause I'm in love with him
How wrong things may seem.
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