What’s The Fucking Dealio/Bumper Car for Pondering/Parents/Scars
I don’t regret transitioning—
But
I do often wonder what the fucking dealio is.
Like, why
Why am I this way
Was I born this way, did I choose it
I’ve cross examined my childhood a lot and
I feel like it’s unfair of me to say
That various influences didn’t happen,
Negative forces have been at work in my life
From the get go, I wonder
If I had just had a queer-friendly family growing up
Who I would be now
Would I be the same person, pre-destined
Broad forehead sent out into the world to wander
Broad hips to bump into things
Am I just a bumper car for pondering ?
What if my dad hadn’t been such a dense callous distant
White nationalist closeted prudish asshole
What if he didn’t hate women what if
I had a man in my life respect my mother and
A mother who was decent enough to care, be sensitive—
What if I had had one parent who listened ?
I don’t want to sound entitled, plenty of people have no parents to speak of
Alas there are some people
Who are so anti social and so unpleasant
That they make you wish you were alone instead
My dad is one of them, and my mom is a total narcissist
Who needed to be certain that I was her biggest fan, but alas
I don’t need much see I already have more than they were ever given
When I was a kid my teacher read the rainbow fish and gave us all a copy
I just
I feel like the rainbow fish.
I felt like it then and I feel like one now and
I can’t tell if everyone does and that’s the whole reason
That children’s book was so successful?
Or if it’s because
I had to share my scales with my family,
Nonconsensually—If you know what I mean
They fuckin flayed me
I was able to move out
And grow my own full set through years of independence.
Sometimes I wonder
Why I’m trans, is it because
I was a 90’s kid and the big seller was a weird book about being a gay narcissist fish?
Or is it because my dad treats women like shit
And like a good son I became something he wanted
—
A man should have two skills, I have
Dozens. No matter how many skills I acquire and
No matter how much I practice I still feel like a novice
I want to be able to understand this feeling as something other than
A headline for a clickbait article.
I wish I could say
That I was born a boy
With confidence
But the truth is I came out
Swinging, singing, standing and pissing
The moment I got an audience.
My parents tried to correct
All of my masculine behaviors
They pruned me socially until I became
Nothing but scars and
Now they worry about
The feet worth of scars
On the outside of my chest as if it’s somehow less
—anyway, like they always said—
I think I just need to rest.