Everywhere I turn “WOMEN” or “MEN” faces me.
Every hall way contains her, her and girl over there.
Inescapable like a breath you can’t swallow but won’t exhale.
I feel stuck, but it’s not me – it’s the structures around me and I know it. I know it’s not me. I don’t fit your fucking binary and you don’t know.
Usually, I can navigate this gray knowing my body is a challenge to the constructs we build, that have been built, that are suffocating yet invisible.
I feel so unknown..
I feel undefined but
constantly given definition.
My gender is a labyrinth that even I don’t know all the twists and turn to, and today I am lost – I am lost in the little kid at the mall kind of way, no parent in sight and panic filling my throat and veins.
Like twilight doesn’t quite know day or night but might be a distant metaphor of both.
Just like I am neither man nor woman but a distant relation to each and something else too.
I am not a lady. And not in that misogynistic defecting from your club kind of way. Like you saw purple and said it was green kind of way. I want to hold up the ladies and admire their power and knowing – knowing I’m part of you, but not you, and not different and not the same..
Not the same.