I am everything, and as such I am nothing
\nBut I am also my body
\nHungry, lazy, tired, cold, hot and sweaty, manic up all night thinking about lines and inflections
\nOr early morning gotta get up but not right now heavy cat petting sessions
\nOr just content, shut the flea mind down, post-meditation quiet reflection
\nI love you for the flavors, sights and sounds
\nOh the places we go
\nBut you know…
\nYou have hurt me like a scar that won\u2019t heal
\nPitted, red raw
\nI love you but I can\u2019t look at you too close
\nOk, I\u2019m just gonna say it \u2014
\nI take my glasses off before I look in the mirror
\nI keep my back to the wall when I\u2019m naked because I\u2019ve been jumped by my own reflection too many times
\nBeat to the ground
\nScraped knuckle asphalt skin
\nIn pain, crawling, limping, picking up a stick to lean on, calling a friend in tears, I need a ride home<\/p>\n
I know now-a-days we are all supposed to be so proud of our bodies
\nLove our bodies
\nBecause, yes!! That\u2019s the most radical thing a trans person can do in this culture!!!
\nSo I try, I really do
\nBut it becomes just another boxing match with my head
\nSinging me to sleep with songs of what could have been
\nBut never will be
\nBecause
\nBecause I was never asked to decide
\nBecause I couldn\u2019t quite jump off that cliff
\nBecause I was scared
\nI was twelve years old, and I was scared
\nI knew what was coming
\nI told myself this was it
\nNow or never
\nEither way I\u2019d be an exile
\nThe question was:
\nDo I get to keep my mother\u2019s warm hands, stroking my hair, touching my face, making me eggs just the way I like them
\nDo I get to keep my father\u2019s strong arms, lifting me gently from the back seat and placing me in my bed still sound asleep
\nDo I get to keep the quiet comfort of my dog\u2019s understanding eyes
\nDo I get to keep my family?
\nOr do I get to leave with my body?<\/p>\n
And I know this doesn\u2019t make good copy
\nDoes not sit well at all for a member of a radical, trans-fabulous organization
\nBut I\u2019d rather be hung by my own people
\nA traitor
\nThen slowly choke on the rope that\u2019s been hanging around my neck
\nThe rope that\u2019s crushed my larynx and constricted my breath
\nUntil I can\u2019t even speak, only croak
\nAnd I can\u2019t fill my lungs, only keep from blacking out
\nThough sometimes my head hurts so bad that blacking out is the same thing as a cradle made of angel wings
\nHold me as I fall asleep to harp strings and the singing of angels<\/p>\n
I wake up every morning
\nAnd I smile \u2014
\nTwenty-four brand new hours before me
\nI vow to live fully in each moment
\nAnd to look at all beings with eyes of love \u2014
\nAnd I try, I really do
\nLaying in my soft bed
\nunder warm covers
\nBathed in morning light
\nThe cats crowning my head
\nBut every morning there comes a point
\nwhen I look up from brushing my teeth or open my mouth to speak
\nAnd I feel it
\nThe rope around my neck
\nPulling me back
\nBack into the angry teenage room I escaped
\nAnd the silent vow I didn\u2019t mean to make \u2014
\nTo never again smile with the open, sober joy of a child
\nI\u2019ve twisted, contorted, struggling to free myself
\nBut now I\u2019ve gained the grace to accept
\nAll the days
\nThe week, the months, the years,
\nAll the decades it\u2019s been in place
\nChaffing
\nUntil the rope and my skin are the same thing<\/p>\n
But I\u2019m not the same
\nI\u2019ve learned, I\u2019m learning to balance in this space
\nBetween the past \u2014 which cannot be remade
\nAnd the future \u2014 which cannot be controlled
\nI’m learning to love now
\nI\u2019m 41 years old
\nAnd I\u2019ll tie no more ropes around my neck
\nIf you want me you\u2019ll have to catch me
\nAnd feel my wet hot breath against your chest as you tie the knot<\/p>\n
This is the truth
\nI stand before you naked
\nTake me as I am
\nOr leave me be<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I am everything, and as such I am nothing But I am also my body Hungry, lazy, tired, cold, hot and sweaty, manic up all night thinking about lines and inflections Or early morning gotta get up but not right now heavy cat petting sessions Or just content, shut the flea mind down, post-meditation quiet […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-83","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=83"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":92,"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/83\/revisions\/92"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=83"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=83"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/freaksoftechnology.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=83"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}