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Her
Her
Her
Her

You want to see her in a pretty dress
That restricts the ribs, the lungs
Like my makeshift chest binder from years back

Her in a sparkly tiara
That weighs down the head
And makes me look
down
         down

Down at her shoes
High-heeled and floral
In which I stumble

In her father-daughter dance
Where he smiles bright
At his brilliant, beautiful-

Her blowing out the candles
Wishing for
...

I've only ever wished to rid of her,
And now here I am hidden behind these candles
In this dance,
Shoes,
Tiara,
Dress,
Body,

Her.
Wishes don't come true
Bonnabelle Reed Dec 2024
our love
is like no other
fly, my butterfly
kafka can't see
who we're meant to be
an extraordinary beauty
fails to be seen
when the mirror's fogged
by government ids
your name is sublime
not the noise they shout
for it is simply air
and rings false every time
your silhouette and your voice
have never been a conscious choice
but to ever deter
the watercolor within
is to shake a can
that never opens
so go, dance in the rain
rewrite history's pain
you are my pride and joy
melting different metals
creates a wonderful alloy.
a love poem to my partner, and to all trans and queer people <3
for context, étaín is a shape shifting goddess in irish mythology, and is often a symbol of rebirth, love, and butterflies!
Kaiden Lewis Dec 2024
The reason you're hated, the
Reason your life is miserable, everyone is
Against you just because you're alive.
Nobody sees you as the true gender you are, they only
See you as a confused freak. They say that
God created you to be whatever you were born as,
Even though you're extremely uncomfortable because of it.
No one understands you, they see you as an abnormality.
Dysphoria begins to take over your body, mind and soul, the
Everlasting hate spreading around you. Being transgender is
Rough.
Another acrostic cuz they're cool, i dont care what others say
wren Dec 2024
a deadname is not just a name
it is a person that you want to forget
that person lived the most tragic life
and that person died the most tragic death

deadname, deadname!!”
the people all shout
but that persons gone, finding their own way about

instead, they were replaced by another
with a more comfortable smiling face
who will follow their own lead
and can be who they want to be

my deadname does not represent ME.
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
It's always between the two.
Myself or everyone else?
Myself or my family?
Honest to myself or acceptable to everyone else?
Truth or tradition?

I don't want to lose them, their respect, everyone's respect.
Nobody is going to accept me or take me seriously, and I can't just give up everything I'm known as.
Can't give up the little I have left.

But I can't live like this.
Every day like this just feels so wrong.
I hate myself,
I hate living.

I can't live my life like this, live someone else's life.
I try to convince myself that I'm wrong, that I'm just doing it for the 'trend', for attention
but I can't.
I can't stand looking like this, being seen as something I'm just not.

But a big part of society hates the existence of people like me,
my friends hate the existence of people like me,
my family hates the existence of people like me.

What am I meant to do?
I hate this so much.
The constant reminders, the self-hatred, peer-judgment, fear, frustration, people on social media and the news and the government and ****,
I hate this so so so much.
Lumin Guerrero Nov 2024
i can't die
until its made certain
that the name on the headstone
will be mine.
Lumin Guerrero Nov 2024
Sometimes I’m [deadname]. She is Dominican mango. Perfectly sweet. She wears dresses and skirts, she is a princess. She is perfectionistic, soft-spoken, and proper, just as her mother is. She thinks that academics are the only thing that she can prove her worth with, but doesn’t let anyone know. She feeds off of the validation of others. She strives to be at the top of her class, anything less would make her a failure. She never stops until she succeeds, never giving up. She is smart. She is successful. She is perfect. She is my cursed present. She is [deadname].

Sometimes I’m [dead-nickname]. She is slightly unripe guava. She is bitter-sweet, delivering a punch of flavor. She is like the innocent child who has yet to learn the dreads of living. She is playful and loves doing her doll’s hair, braiding and brushing it, just as her mother does for her. She makes bracelets and handwritten cards as presents, writing all the little poems that flow through her mind like the wind flowing through the trees. She loves the swings at the park, flying high. She is like a bird that has yet to leave the nest. She is brave. She is playful. She is creative. She was my childhood. She is [dead-nickname].

Sometimes I’m Lumin. They are starfruit. Bold, sweet and sour, tangy and ****. They are bright, like the celestial wonder they were named after. They light up any room they walk into as their outspoken and unforgiving self. Their luster makes others stop and stare. They are like a warrior that would do anything to defend the people they love. A leader that leaves no soldier behind. They don’t let anyone tell them what to do. They are brave. They are confident. They are bright. They are my future. They are Lumin.

They all struggle to coexist in this world. They never get along, fighting like siblings. But they jumble up and create the mess of a person that I am. I wish that I could live by the name that is me, but walls of steel stop me from fulfilling it. So, for now, I’m [deadname], [dead-nickname], and Lumin.
This was an English assignment based on the vignette "My Name" in A House On Mango Street
Cut out my deadnames cause... yeah.
Lumin Guerrero Nov 2024
I wonder, a lot of the time,
what it would be like if I were born a
boy.

Would I be happier?
Relieved from this feeling to over-masculinize myself
to combat the more obvious feminine features...

The "girl" voice
"Girl" body
"Girl" hair
"Girl" name
"Girl" demeanor
"Girl"
"Girl"
"Girl"

Baby
"Girl"
...

What if I were born a baby
"Boy"

Well then, that wouldn't make it any better, now would it.

Then it would all be,
"Boy"
"Boy"
"Boy"
"Boy" demeanor
"Boy" name
"Boy" hair
"Boy" body
"Boy" voice

So, even if my chromosomes were lost an X, had a Y instead,
I would still be bound to the same fate.
The same hurt that is gender dysphoria.

Society-
or, God?-
has only made two categories,
two choices
two sexes
two lives
two boxes.

I wonder, then,
what it would be like
if that wasn't so.
Lumin Guerrero Nov 2024
Every
Birthday candle
Angel hour
Fountain coin
Church prayer
Dandelion blow

I wish for the same thing.
I'm still waiting for my wish to come true.
I wish that they would accept me as I am. As nonbinary.
I dread having to choose between their love and my happiness.
I wish they would understand
Kay Nelson Nov 2024
to all my siblings i never met and never will meet
to all the people who never got to find themselves
who lived and died under a name other than their own
to everyone whose fate was decided at the hateful hands of others
or their own hands in hopeless sorrow
to those who spearheaded change
and to those who never knew another like them

i'll keep living for you
i love you
transgender day of remembrance 2024
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