Thursday, August 11, 2016


by her mother
When they call her “sir”
she lowers her head
and stares at her feet.
With thoughtless words
adults teach her to question
her inclination to be unique.
“Are you a boy? Or a girl?”
“A little man? Or a lady?
Junebug rolls her eyes.
Ignorant people
with irrelevant questions
refusing to empathize.
I hold her close,
I wipe her tears -
her little heart is wrecked.
Her little friends wear
bows in their hair
and she - around her neck.
Why does bow placement
change the message
her endearing style conveys?
Does it matter
what exists between
my daughter’s legs?
A girl she is,
a girl she has been,
a girl she loves to be.
But that doesn’t hinder
her growing passion for
climbing cherry trees.
She loves her pixie cut,
prefers ‘boy’ colors,
and rocks her skater shoes
To me, it’s simple
Her body, her decisions
She is always free to choose.
“Are you trying to turn
her into a lesbian?”
- I’m just raising my child.
“What do you want her to be?”
- I am hoping for compassionate,
fearless, strong, and wild.
Nibby-nose strangers
constantly hint about
the ‘gender’ of her birth.
Endless, pointless
questions - yet I try
to reassure her of her worth.
“Why do they think
that I am a boy?”
My motherly frustration takes hold...
“heteronormative gender roles that are socially constructed strongly influence our society into forcing young children to link their gender identities to their binary biological sex assignment, which was given at birth, and is then reinforced with a cisgender discourse by asshole bigoted adults”
seems a little complex
for a nine year old.

Katelyn made herself into a PPG Character.

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