no one, but me

This poem is about not wanting people to define or label me because of the clothes I chose to wear. My body is mine to dress as I want, and how I choose to dress it should not make others choose to judge me or make assumptions.

Thin blue dress

patterned with vivacious horses

slides over red gym shorts

and a black & white bra

slides over a bike seat

as heat swelters, sweat trickles

“Oh you look so nice”

first comment of the day

I don’t usually wear femme; are you surprised?

Now that I fit your stereotype, am I more acceptable?

“Who are you trying to impress?”

No one, but me

My body is not for you

Horses gallop over

black & white bra

eyes slide toward my body

as my body slides on my bike

red shorts glisten, wind caresses my thighs

as  I slide through the air

My body is mine

I dress it for me to be me

It does not define me, or my gender identity

I dress it to slide through the air

They march…

I wrote this a few days ago, in the feels about the different marches that were happening at Trump’s inauguration. I’ve been to a lot of marches, and for those whose first time it was a few days ago, I understand the exhilaration and the empowerment. There is something very powerful about being one of thousands in the street. But that’s not enough. It’s an experience, but at the end of the day it erases the systemic struggles which have existed for centuries. Trump’s presidency is not the beginning of fascism, we cannot make Amerika great again, and kops are not our friends. For those who were on the marches, I just ask that you think deeply about your participation, understand your privilege, be open to critique. I only hope we are moving forward into rebellion. Here’s the poem:

They march to win the hearts + minds

They march for that oppression

which will be gentle and kind

They march so the pigs will place

pink and furry handcuffs on their wrists

They march to fill the pockets of

non-profits’ CEOs

board of directors

and bureaucrats

They march to take selfies to post on Facebook or Snapchat

They march so celebrities can smile for their photo-ops

They march to cover up their daily micro-aggressions

anti-blackness + transmisogyny

They march to tell their future dead children

they tried but then failed

They march to snitch on those who take

alternate routes

They march to shame and exclude those who suffer the most

They march because this is a democracy and they have the freedom of assembly

But they never pause to ask for whom?

They march not knowing the history and past struggles

They march blind into police kettles

They march + march + march…

Except there are no hearts + minds to win

There are only buildings, freeways and institutions

to burn

Our rebellion grows

from the streets of Oakland, Seattle, DC, New York

and sometimes LA

Our struggle continues.

It did not begin nor will it end in Trump

How many drones did Obama authorize?

How many people deported under his administration?

How many black bodies died at the guns of police?

It began in the 15th century

with genocide and slavery

These marches of the 21st century rest on a resistance movement

They try to forget or never remember

Permits, peace, and police

We are standing up against a violent Empire

Six centuries in the making

We must march to blockade

capitalism is violence on this land

We must march to smash B of A windows

their property is violence on this land

We must march to fight fascists and fascism

white supremacy is violence on this land

Their hearts + minds won’t change

But our hearts + minds are here

and have been.

my strength

this poem is about the strength (and beauty) of our bodies, in contrast to how Western culture may view our bodies. especially for femme bodies it is important to recognize what is often taken away – our autonomy and self-determination. for all the femmes, especially those that struggle with body image and dysphoria. 

thighs sprout

strong tree trunks

muscles buried within 

my clay sandy skin

my Strength

misogyny leaves an ugly mark

on my body

misogyny is countered by

my Strength

a danger to expose my body

because my body will expose

my Strength

cis hetero men stare

they don’t see

my Strength

but I do. 

i will open wide

my Strength

and squeeze tight 

squeeze the life from

cis hetero patriarchy with

my Strength