- You know how I always say
I don’t really know how to describe myself? - The truth is that, at all times,
I am afraid of the weight of my words. - For as long as I have wanted to be seen,
there has been a disconnect between my voice and its echo,
and it slowly drives me insane that the two can never seem to match. - I like how you see me.
- People call me things that make want to scratch my skin off
and bite the hand that tries to soothe me. - There is an indomitable jealousy for the comfort that some feel
in their bodies, in their heads. - I know we all lie a little about how we feel
in our bodies, in our heads. - Whichever starting line I could have been given,
I would have been dissatisfied. - This life is about figuring out this ever-changing body,
how it desires and how it is satiated. - You know I am terrible at being straightforward—
it’s the same old stuttering fear—
but all this is to say I don’t want gender:
I want to borrow it, flaunt it,
and have it forgotten the second I am tired of it.
Recommendation: Diary of a Mad Black Anthropologist by Siv Greyson.