This is from my "Creative writing class"....
Dear cisgender people:
Do not call me a faggot.
I am not a cigarette,
I am a human being.
Do not call me tranny,
Or“it,”
Or trap,
Or any other name except mine.
Dear cisgender people:
I don't want to be your “Gay Best Friend”--
I hate shopping.
The clerks look at me funny and, suddenly,
I feel funny.
“The girl's section is over there, miss.”
Dear cisgender people,
Here is something to ponder:
How can you be okay with your body despite the fact that, try as you might,
People will never truly see you as you?
Why should I have to straighten what is curved to be taken seriously?
An affectionate father plants a kiss on my head, calls me “Sweetie” and my stomach roils
My skin shrinks away from him and I feel angry,
Because if he saw me as me—as his child, or even his son, not Daddy's Little Princess—he would never do that.
“But, biologically, you are a girl, right?”
Biologically, I don't give two soggy fucks that you think the doctors were right when they first saw me,
That you think my pronouns are bad grammar,
That you think I don't fit into your pretty little pink and blue boxes--
Maybe I was always intended to be green?
Nicole Diem