Brain: Male.

Heart: Male.

Soul: Male.

And yet you imagine a word

on a forty-year-old page

can invalidate all of these?

#GetALife #DailyFail


Yes, I was assigned-female-at-birth,

grew up behind net curtains with my secrets concealed inside,

where nobody (and least of all me)

understood quite what was denied. 

I refused to answer to my given name at five,

hid growing curves under baggy sweaters at twelve,

felt weird and wrong around girls who wore make-up and heels

and spent their weekends shopping for pink lace bras:

that was all I knew.  There were things that I never tried to do,

because it just wasn’t ‘done’, within that net; and many things

that I didn’t say, and couldn’t have said, however I tried,

because the words weren’t even invented yet. 

There wasn’t a language, then, for people like me. 

#TransgenderBoy and #TransgenderMan were years away,

The teachers could have been fired just for saying ‘gay’. 

So, in conclusion: secrets: kept.

Yet your ‘AFAB’ cannot define me now. 

#WontBeErased #WontBeDenied

My #ExistenceIsResistance;

and if you dare try to delete me, I WILL resist.

Assigning pink lace flowers to hide what you can’t accept

can no more erase the blue core of a #TransMan like me

than King Canute’s command ‘Thus far, and no further’

could ever hold back the inrushing Solent tide.  Whatever

you choose to call me, whatever you say, I will ride the waves

to places you never dreamed, and live my self-made life

as my truest self anyway.   There’s no way in again, now I’m out.

Because this is who I am, and have always been,

and the only alternative is…


 Let’s not go there.

I am here. 

Defiantly turquoise. 




So take your eraser, take your net curtains, and go;

I am still here, no longer silent, at this meeting-place

of sea and shore, persistently pushing on as the waves do,

and reminding myself day after day that there are more

ways than one to be a man.  There are more ways than one

for the deep essence of a human soul to survive.