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Girl
Girl…
That god-for-saken word is spoken to me far too much.
I am seen as nothing but a girl
What I wear,
How I present myself,
Everything about me just screams:
GIRL.
My face,
My eyes,
My words,
My voice,
My hands,
My body,
My hair,
My Everything.
It all screams girl.
At least,
to you.
To me,
I am so much more,
Beyond your binary.
Far more normal than the norms of society.
But what society says is how society works.
And when society says:
A girl has acrylics,
A girl wears skirts,
A girl has good posture,
A girl is articulate.
I am a girl.
And there is only girls and guys,
You must be crazy to think otherwise,
So I am a girl.
No matter how much I scream or yell or cry that I am different
I am not.
Because society doesn’t care about psychologically,
They care about normalcy.
The craving to be usual,
To be accepted and to be wanted,
For that to happen, you have to be a girl.
Girls are wanted by guys -
Guys are wanted by girls.
For the in between, there is no room.
So make a choice!
Be a girl or be a guy,
You won’t fit in on either side.
So I’ll be a girl,
Just like you think I am.
Though my skin stills crawls and I still shiver
No matter how many times people say I’m a ‘girl.’
The power of the word
Is uncanny
The world’s use of ‘girl’
Is strange and dysphoric.
Causing my mind to contort,
Just trying to understand
Whether they see me as such,
Or if it’s simple as they will say it is.
Does a word of such weight,
Mean nothing to them?
When that very same word,
Can cause me to spiral.
Femininity belongs to girls.
Curves and posture categorize me as such.
The more feminine you are,
The better you are.
Society loves a traditional Barbie,
They do not love progress.
So if that’s how you’re going to measure my worth -
Based on my femininity,
Then I will eliminate all traces of it.
Anything which allows you to see me as a girl,
Will be ended.
My nails,
My dresses and skirts,
Will all be sliced to ribbons,
As though a rabid wolf has ravaged them.
My posture and my words,
Will be carefully formulated,
Each motion and spoken line,
Shall be well rehearsed,
Without a trace of my former self.
No feminine tone nor stance,
Everything about me will show you.
Your binary can be broken,
A girl is not stuck a girl.
I am not stuck with your stereotypes.
For my sake,
For my safety,
I will wear baggy clothes,
I will slouch,
I will bite my nails,
I will slur my words,
Until you don’t understand them.
Because then I will know I have succeeded.
In making you see me as something different.
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