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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.82 m
Wingspan
6.84 m
Weight
513.39 kg
Genetics
Phthalo
Basic
Basic
Robin
Basic
Basic
Yellow
Peacock
Peacock
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 10 Skydancer
EXP: 1081 / 27676
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
sapphire roundhorns, blue clawtips
THE GENDER OF THE DAY IS: TIRED
g e n d e r.
"What's your gender?"
"No, but like, what were you born?"
"Which box do you tick?"
These words are familiar, asked by a no-name bank teller wearing the same face as a doddering grandparent in the parking lot or a teenager popping gum while my cola is swiped across the scanner. They are the echoes of everything I am not - boxes the world wants everyone to fall into, expectations and roles based on things as inane as my hairstyle or what's in my pants or who I kiss or how I like to fall in love.
Questions like that come like jabs with a needle, slices with an uncaring carving knife - society and the masses picking out, thread by thread, the shape of my life, my soul, my very existence, trying to force me into breaking just for the sin of existing, trying to stitch me in place so they can 'keep an eye on me', make sure I'm not having any radical ideas about self-love, or self-expression. They come with thoughtless care and no more attention beyond the deep-seated curiousity that comes when they are presented with something that is other.
"Don't you get tired of it?"
My mother asked me once.
"Fighting all the time?"
She said it with pity in her voice and watering down the insult of it,
the insinuation that i should just lay down and accept the rules that someone else tries to put on how I should be the poet that I am, how I should shape the body I inhabit,
that I should let someone else define the universe as I experience it
Truth is?
I do get tired of it.
I get tired of having to tear those stitches out, over and over - reaffirming, repeatedly, heatedly, aggressively, that I am Me and sometimes that means he and seldom it means she but always it means we and no one can take that away, even sutured in place i will still scream and if you try to take my voice i will still have my body, boy or girl or o t h e r -
I get tired of how my skin feels too tight and every address from a stranger is a subtle reminder that their preconceived notions of how I should behave is going to radiate through our e n t i r e interaction, from the first 'miss?' to the seventeenth euphemism I've heard this year explaining in an oh-so-witty way why it's important I leave my engine work "to a professional", like his greasy shop is the holy grail of car maintenance and I should be grateful - grateful! - for his patience.
It isn't always mechanics and it isn't always his patience I should be grateful for, but it's all the same. And maybe that's less about gender, and more about society, but it is part of what makes me tired -
the ways in which people justify misgendering, as though makeup could make you less of what you are depending on what you look like when you aren't wearing it, like facial hair or piercings or tattoos are what determine whether or not you should be treated with a shred of human decency - as well as defining whether or not 'decency' means a clap on the shoulder or a thinly veiled insult wearing a fake apology. Just smile more, he didn't mean anything by it.
I'm tired of living in a world that views me as less of a person if I hesitate when I'm presented with those boxes.
☐Man
☐Woman
☐Other
I'm tired of opening social media and seeing news that yet another queer trans black woman has breathed her last or that queer people are once again being stripped of our right to exist -
Yes.
I'm tired.
I'm tired of it getting this far.
I'm tired, but I'm not giving up, because eventually they're going to catch on - that there are those of us who will keep on screaming, about gender and self expression and self love, long after you've tried to take our ability to speak,
that no matter how tired we are we will not go down without fighting.
i will not hesitate at those boxes.
i will check 'other' and I will define it myself, in the moment, as I am.
My gender of the day is man and woman,
it is fury,
it is fire,
it is truth.
If you try to define me, it will destroy you.
I am tired.
My gender is a riot.
What's yours?
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