September 16, 2016.
I wrote this in the back bedroom of my grandmother's house, crying.

transgender (dear, allison)

Dear Allison,

Our mother gave us this name.
And I want a clean slate.
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to apologize.
I look in this mirror, staring at you, wiping our eyes.

We are a butterfly, you and I.
Yet I’m the one yanking apart our wings.
I think it’s about time
that we talk about these things.

The windows are breathing again.
I think the rain’s pouring down.
This useless tissue? Just weights on a chest.
No, this was never a second guess!

I have two chests, the one you see and the one you may never touch.
I’m trying to give them what they want, I am.
“You are what’s expected, you are a daughter. Not a son.”
I’m doing what you told me, I’ve been saying that again.

But it feels very wrong and I wish you wouldn’t do this to me.
I’m really scared, Allison, put that lipstick down.
You know you’re just the demon possessing me.
I’ve been very polite and only speaking when I’m allowed.
You know, when we’re both alone together at night. But now-
You tell me to shut up and not make another sound.

Because I’m not the first ‘sick patient’ hidden behind soft skin and plump lips.
Not the first one who craves to be seen as a “him”
And Allison, when do I get any fucking air time to rant?
You get mad just because we’re just two souls on a fence?
When in reality, you don’t even exist!
What nonsense is this?

Oh, Allisonnn? You know, you’re pulling a fast one here.
You know, more than anyone, that I need you to disappear.
Got me feeling a little schizo, but no, you’re still trapped in my mirror.
All the voices around confirm my fears.

Oh, baby girl! My daughter! My aunt! My sister!
My mind, my heart, my soul, and the world is playing Twister.
You’d think it’s three against one, but I’m not anywhere close to be called a mister.
You can have all the backup and the ammo, but in the end, the war is remembered.

I’m not going to win, am I? Should I just give up?
The statistics say my life may be limited because we argue so much.
It’s kind of scary because I completely understand.
I’m just looking at our hourglass and laughing at our sand.

We aren’t trapped in our own body, not quite.
We are trapped by the perceptions of our bodies from others.
Now, yeah, sometimes I don’t feel like fighting the fight.
But I want the world to know that behind our mask, we don’t smother.

Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 697 times
Written on 2017-07-28 at 00:08

Tags Transgender  Emotions  Self 

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ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo, Aidan.
Today, we in England, the rest of the U K, WAITED years for what happend in England! Fivtey years ago. parlymant, voted to free homosexals, repelinh opreseve, laws agaist homsexals. leading up to the vote. thee was much debaiteings! One debaite was due on a comershal stashan, the I T V. I so onted to listen to the debate, I ask my mothe to let me see the debate. Mum said: '' no , ken, you haveschool in the morning. '' '' I'll ask your dad to tell youall about it. '' So I went off to bed. Iwas well a sleep, when, dad gently wok me up. He was still in hios cloths from work, cotye on, and his workinmg hat. '' Helow, Ken '' ; '' your mum said you wont to know about hmosexals '' '' Er yes,dad'' ; '' Wll, son, homosexals, are men who like, love other men .'' I wre 13.
And that was that, simpole, and with out prgests, at all. I was no longher ignorant, so grew up, with a mind progamde, in a GOOd posative way, to exsept pepole a they are. lesbean, nver were proseuted, prosacuted. In fackt whear i live, lebeans exsepted. most working class lesbeans, work for the local bus compaey.

years later the BBC, 30 - 40 or so years ago. Had a very good progame on, that coved not just what made people gay - homosexals and lesbeans. BUT also, trance gender.
It was kinder of gender war! That is, at the time of conception. We are all female. The cells, devide, subdevide. In to male and female. This is ahvde by degreas, in extrem results, maile bran in a femle bodeys, and of course viserveser. again by degrees, homesxals - lesbeans. Teroue to heterseaxuals. amipole as that! The polanatans, exsepted, pepole a they are, men they understod, woman both genders, hosexals they uiunderstood, includinmg, the brain situastan, in men. Woman, situastan, they scatchde their heads! BUT none were subjecktyed to perctan, that came with the missannerys, with there pregegets, relegen! Need I say more?
Such bio exsits in anamal world, yes gay horcers &co! Sexualaty, is just the norm!

What an important letter. I hope Allison understands. You have described this in such a delicate manner and in such strong words and emotions, mister allen. A beautiful poem.

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
"Dear Allison" is an amazing letter, and a wonderful poem. Thank you for posting it here.