True Trans Soul Rebel

My untaught hand still shakes a little

As I lace the liner across my eyelids

And smudge it under my eyes

Patching and straightening it out as doubt creeps in

Deriding the lack of uniformity

Like flaws in an unconvincing costume

Like I can still see monsters hiding in the shadows

Of this lipstick’s hues

Like I can see them haunting my reflection

Mocking me, conjuring some ghoulish pageantry

Jeering like an audience baying for blood

Demanding that I be both less and more

As if I’m a caricature of everything I want to be

And I’m just trying to conceal the fear

The fatigue and anxiety

With stains and shades, a masquerade

Of femininity

That feels more like negation

Than bravery

Not resistance, but concession

To the violence of society

Not a divergence from the performance

But abiding it all too cautiously –

This bleak evaluation

Of how much I want to be taunted or hurt today

Balancing a desire for ‘authenticity’

Against fear of punishment and sanction

A tightrope the dispossessed all tread,

A disguise we all in some form don,

As directors backstage

Instruct us exactly how to perform:

We are both judge and judged,

Ever both performer

And audience member

Whilst never interrogating who dictates

This grotesque show

 

By the end of the night I look in the mirror

And feel like I have been wrenched through a trial

My lipstick no longer gleaming

But etched more like some ghastly bruise

Some ghost of withered dreams

As I grapple with the memory

Of looks of disgust, intimidation and heckles

That I screen out with Against Me!

 

And I know the demons have compelled me

To want to rub it off all night

But I curl my lips into a smile

Because despite this fearful trial

I still believe we can be saboteurs rather than actors

And that we can tear down this theatre together:

And each time I apply this liner

My hand gets a little steadier

I feel a little safer

A little stronger.

 

I can’t and won’t wear this binary:

These choreographed steps and expectations of me

Aren’t my reality

And I don’t need any embellishment

To instill me with coherency

As I feel this punk symphony

Seize the spotlight and occupy the stage

 

Even if I can’t quite see myself as beautiful

I’m trying to be myself

And that’s something

I want to believe that’s enough.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s