I did not ask for this body
I did not ask for the doctors to call me "girl" and condemn me to a lesser existence
I did not ask to learn to judge myself by society's standards instead of my own
I did not ask to feel like my own body is an ill-fitting mask
I especially did not ask for the midnight realization that my body is girl but my soul is not
Sometimes I look in the mirror and hate what stares back, xir too-soft curves and too-full lips and too-high voice, xir femininity
Sometimes I look in the mirror and hate what stares back, xir too-flat chest and too-thin face and too-deep voice, xir masculinity
Sometimes I look in the mirror and love what stares back, elegant woman or regal androgyne or balancing on the razor-thin edge between
But my gender shifts and changes and flows, and so those euphoric moments are rare
I did not ask to walk down the street in fear, both of what people might do to a lone girl, and of what they might do when they discover I am not one
I did not ask to hide from my parents, to hear their false acceptances and then feel the "daughters" and "shes" and "hers" stab needles in my heart
I did not ask to hate my name, to cringe when people say it, to choose a new one but only use it in secret
I did not ask to shrink away from strangers, to lessen myself in order to survive society, and all the while despise every "ma'am" and "young lady"
I especially did not ask for a body that marks me as lesser and a soul that diminishes me to nothing
Sometimes I have to hide my chest, to pull up my hair, to try in vain to deepen my voice, and it is still not enough
Sometimes I have to pull at my collar, to shake out my hair, to fumble with makeup and jewelry, and it is still not enough
Sometimes I play dress-up like a child, after dark in the safety of my room, and only then do I love the way I look
But I must be silent and secretive, to avoid the attentions of prying parents who cannot understand
I did not ask to have to turn the news off because the stories of hate crimes grow overwhelming, and make me afraid to go outside
I did not ask to hesitate at bathroom doors, and then resign myself to the womens' because there is no space for me
I did not ask to see religions preach love and acceptance and then say that my trans siblings and I are damned simply for existing
I did not ask for my country's leaders to deny my existence, and shape bills that set that denial into law
I especially did not ask to inherit a world that has not yet grown to accomodate those of the "Other (please specify)"
Sometimes I love my body, swaying hips and toned legs and pointed chin, a picture of traditional girlhood
Sometimes I love my body, high cheekbones and muscled arms and broad shoulders, a not-quite-masculine frame
Sometimes I love my body for reasons I cannot name, only that my features echo the indescribable feeling that is my gender
But I cannot share this joy with the people who claim to support me
I did not ask for this shifting gender
I did not ask for this stubborn body