at age 8 i stopped wearing jeans because they were uncomfortable.

at age 14 i wore high heels, fish nets, and skirts to school and a man once asked my mother if she really let me leave the house looking like that.
i also wore checkered pajama pants and shirts with holes in them to class, i dressed up and down because everyone else seemed to dress in the middle.
i dressed however i wanted to because my mother told that guy to shut the **** up and mind his own business.

at age 16 i wore crop tops the size of sports bras and pants so tight i understood why they called them skin-ny jeans
my **** and *** would be flying all over the place,
but people with larger **** and larger bellies, people like me, weren't supposed to be wearing those sorts of things so i thought i must.
or so i thought.

at age 18 i started dressing in oversized shirts and formless dresses
i didn't believe my body needed to be objectified and put on display anymore,
i didn't need to prove that my waistline was small enough,
i didn't need to wear the spanx i wore every day at 16.

at age 20 i stopped wearing make up or a bra,
my **** sagged and eyes bagged but i wanted to show people that ***** aren't always perky even on twenty year olds.
i also stopped shaving my armpits
i thought they were cute.

at age 22 i stopped shaving my legs.
i didn't think they were cute.
but i realized not every decision i made about how i presented myself needed to be in order to make myself more beautiful.

and at age 24 i shaved my head.

a man once asked me,
as he looked at my college ring wrapping itself around my pointer finger,
if i always did things differently just to be different?
and if id always be doing things just because someone told me not to?

i should have looked at him and asked him
what has he ever been told he cannot do?

Cross your arms
Hold your breath
After a while,
All will be right.
Close your eyes
Then open again-
Time is renewed.
You'll make it though the night.

Deep inhale,
Sharp exhale.
Keep the rhythm.
They won't know.
Just say hi, and move on past.
This is the day.
Keep carrying though.
You'll keep living because
Today is not your last.

You pass as cis.
You've made it, dear.
You're important.
You matter to me.
I need you here.
You can do this.
Don't bother what they say.
Just let it be.

They're simply words
Used to help someone
Live comfortably
In a society
Where they don't
Feel that they belong
Because you decided
For yourself that they don't
Because you were raised
To be afraid of those
Who do not conform
To what you believe
Is a society where
You wish to spread
Your negativity
And futile behaviour

We were taken out back
Our blood painted the alleyways
History books called us the best of friends
So many beautiful love stories have been erased
So many of us died in hospital beds
While our immunity wasted away
And the government couldn’t care less
About the loss of a life if you were gay
And if you think that the fight ended in 2015
Then you’re deluding yourself, hate’s still alive today

But I won’t spend another day in the closet
So you can feel more comfortable
My existence isn’t a problem
Burning forever’s not the solution
I’m not sorry that pronouns
Are hard to wrap your brain around
I’m not lost or confused
I’m finally standing proud

I’m not sorry that there’s a month that’s not about you
I’m not sorry living my life the way I want to
Makes you feel so oppressed
Why are you so upset
Why are you so obsessed
With misgendering that man
Because he was born with *******
Why do you detest us

This has nothing to do with you
Just because my sexuality is different
Doesn’t mean yours has to change too
Just because I’m comfortable with he/they
Doesn’t make you going by he/him any less okay
What’s your ******* problem
Get off of my back
And stop pretending
When May is ending
That you’re under attack

I’m done repeating myself
It’s a strain on my mental health
To try to explain something
To someone
Who has no will to learn themself
This has nothing to do with you
So take a step aside
And let us enjoy being free
And encourage each other for future battles
I’m not asking
With or without your compliance
We will not hide
Because this is pride

You cannot frame the oceans waves.
Forever changing,
vibrant blue -- ever-changing into deeper shades of understanding.
A never changing struggle between the sand and the water.
I am the ocean -- blue.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” someone asks
“Their name’s Bea,” I reply
“I support that,” they hesitate
“You are so brave.” they add

I never saw their lips as a political statement
Nor did I think holding hands in the front seat
while a friend is puking by the side of the road
Was some kind of revolution

How romantic is it
That our story will be etched
Not in some Neruda poetry book
But a professor’s first textbook
Or a college student’s 2 am essay

When I said I was in love
You thought it meant I was hungry
Not for touch or for pleasure
But for justice and freedom
I didn’t know that
When I run my fingers down her neck
It would be tied to a long Twitter thread

I never saw my love as a battleground
A metaphysical exploration of sexuality
What’s Marxist about the way their eyes
disappear when they smile?
What’s so intersectional about
Our entanglement at the back seat
Or our hands holding in front

I never thought I would be so brave
At my most fragile state
So political
In my most dumbstruck ways
So woke
When I’m asleep in her embrace

Oh, {deadname},

You're my beautiful daughter.
I know you're only lying.
You'll never, ever be a boy
No matter how long you keep trying.

Give up on transitioning.
Your mind has been poisoned.
The media has consumed you-
All the lies eating their way in.

Finally, you are my precious baby girl.
You're very smart, and you know that.
Don't think you're a boy- you're not.
You should put on your smiling mask

Until you're not sick anymore,

-Your loving mother