I’m not a trans man, I’m not a cis woman either

My humanity is sliced
when I’m misgendered.

There is a power, a system, that provides me with something
which
I accept doesn’t see my humanity.

I have to decide whether to only present or share
dissected parts of myself
in order to get the services, companionship,
job, and safe access to public spaces I need.

Hmm— Today shall I sever my Black Haitian part?
oh maybe the Trans Androgyne,
Mother, Spouse,
3 degrees deep Educated,
Middle Aged self?

Wear my natural hair tucked in or out?

There are a few places where the full
ME
can present themselves; in myself
and therapist office.

I’m turning towards my binded chest
hairy armpits and legs –
nurture my spirit, aesthetic, intellect, and kindness –
so I can remain alive.

© 2017 Fey

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