nonbinary

July 5, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i’ll never think flags
are dumb
again.

while there are flags for every
little
sexuality
gender
identity
feeling
fandom
these days
(even the different states in america have their own flag!
and cities!!
it’s getting ridiculous, guys…)
and the ‘meanings’ behind the colored stripes
i often find
a little forced

but

i know of multiple
*multiple*
people
(some i knew personally,
some i only heard their story from their mouth
over a little known
‘clock app’)
who, being non-binary, never felt ‘trans enough’
‘yes’ they’d think to themselves,
‘trans means someone who does not identify
as the gender they were assigned
at birth,
but i’ve had no transition
social/
hormonal/
surgical/
how does that really imply
*trans*-gender?’
and then they’d learn that the white stripe in the middle
of the trans pride flag
is for non-binary folks specifically.
‘i see myself in the trans flag’ their faces of delighted surprise seemed to say
‘i am trans enough—
i mean, i’m part of the damn flag!’

and i recently learned about the disability pride flag
(it had a re-design so those with sight sensitivities
could scroll and not be assaulted by the
zig-zag making strobe effects on their screens)
and i’ve been trying to do more research into the disability community,
one i admired from afar,
and read about,
and wondered if any of my strange nerve pains are
an invisible illness sneaking up on me,
or if my glasses are enough of a mobility aid to think of them as such,
or, still, if my depression/anxiety interrupt my day-to-day
in this world built for neurotypicals
to even imagine them as disabilities.
but in learning about the disability pride flag
and what those colors mean
and that blue stripe
right there
calls out mental illness—
very
obviously
states
that mental illness
is part
of the disability
community

and i have never breathed such a loaded sigh
of relief
of pride
of protection
of fear
of the weight of what it means
to be disabled in a culture
that would rather pretend a global pandemic
is over
than admit that disabled people
are bearing the brunt
of the deaths and tragedies from it

so
even though
i take on most of my mental illness
in isolation
(except for some poems
here and there
in this here daily poetry blog)
i’m starting to think of myself
as one who has community
rather than one
without

June 23, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

my gender is gentle
a little bit fragile:
i’m Stede Bonnet as a child
in fancy, frilly shirts
continuing to pick flowers
and love the earth
as the world shows me
people are cruel
but by myself i may be safe

my gender is compassionate
a little bit foolish:
like a teen girl in love with
her first asshole boyfriend
telling her friends
‘i can fix him’
except for me, the him is humanity
it’s the entire world falling apart
it’s the earth i love that as a species
we’ve
set fire fire to
and destroyed

my gender is a plaything
i’ve pulled apart and fit back together again,
but i was never good at those projects in gifted class–
they’d bring in a rotary phone
and those who wanted could dis-
and re-
assemble as they wanted
but i never did it;
i said i was content memorizing lines for my latest production
or watching silly films about muffins made as a senior thesis
by a person i’d never met
online
(B.T. Before the youTubes),
but really i was terrified–
what if i took an object apart,
destroyed it,
essentially,
and couldn’t ever get it
back to working order,
so i never, ever, ever practiced…

maybe that’s why my gender doesn’t fit back
the way it used to
before i haphazardly took it apart–

but in a way,
though it doesn’t fit the way it did,
(and it sure doesn’t look
like
the box it came in),
it somehow suits me
better.

June 18, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

contemplating
calling out
misgendering

of myself
of my fellow enbies

it can be easier
to correct
an obvious gendered flub–
a she for a he
and a he for a she–
the identity and clues and presentation
are often there;
it should be
obvious.

but with those of us
in-between/
outside-of/
on a whole other
gender-level

clothing/
body hair/
size/
shape/
color/
means little to nothing:
we are sans gender
(or all genders together)
and all we are asking
is that you see us as a person
first
before gender.

and it doesn’t matter how
queer-friendly
or queer
a person is…

i’ve seen binary trans folks
throw ‘she’s around
in place of ‘they’s
‘he’s
for ‘xe’s
and it hurts
like a knife
to the soul

and i know social conditioning
is a struggle to escape,
and i know language barriers
can make it impossibly hard,
but if, in a queer space,
as you set yourself up
as a queer teacher
and imply the safety
for all
but still buy into a binary
[even if it’s solely through language]
you are proving
yourself
wrong.

***the emotion of this poem
is over a year old,
the initial person who prompted
this poem
has done a great job
of reeling in their language
and looking at the person
first.
but i wanted to write
and re-write
for catharsis purposes,
and i wanted to post
not only for a call-in/call-out,
in case you are a person
who sees gender
first,
but also to say
that everyone makes mistakes
even queer folks in queer spaces
and it can always be forgiven,
but know that we always notice
even if we say nothing
we always
always
notice***

May 13, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

poets
are supposed to be
sentimental
romantical
(or so society says)
their best works coming
from falling
head over heels over head
over and over and over again
with people/with person/with newfound loving

but i count myself a poet
(as strange as it still feels
internally;
but
you can’t do something
every day
for over a year
and not get to take that label)
and i suppose i feel
sentimental
romantical
but without the drama
without the dire feelings
without the falling/
not knowing/
which way is up/
will there be ground when i fall/
will it cushion or strike/
a final blow/
so/
i feel like my poems aren’t the romantical kind
most people expect

but i’ve had nearly ten years with you,
six of those legally wed
(straight out of a time i thought that’d never be a thing)
(planning a wedding when you don’t know which state
will abate
the legality of your love
is an…interesting experience, to say the least)
and we skipped most societal standards,
no first/second/third date rules,
just us, sharing our personal traumas
amid late night kisses
and early morning apple juice;
a first “date” lasting damn near 24 hours
(and only a previous commitment kept it
from just extending
ad inifinitum
as many sapphic first dates go)

a one night stand
turned to talking
and magnetic-felt pulling
until we collapsed our expectations,
shed our ‘no [new] relationship rules’
and went from officially dating
to quietly engaged
in four months
flat

and each month after
i’ve learned from you
and grown with you,
and we’ve had great times
and incredibly hard times,
quiet times
and a few loud times,
but most of the time
it’s simply
comfortable-being-with-you times.
i love our co-[in]dependence
that we’ve come into on our own terms.
and that year [+] where we could only see each other
was such a welcome gift.
and even though nothing is ever promised,
i can see my future more clearly
with you
than i’ve ever seen it before,
and i know
when we’re ghosts
we’ll finally be able to cuddle the way we want
bypassing physical boundaries
and feeling that closeness we yearn for
in every tight tight hug…

we were wed
6 years ago on this day
so i suppose that’s why
today
i’m feeling
sentimental
[and a bit romantical]
but also
sentimentality sneaks up on me
most days
that i get to see you
across the table from me
working on your programming
while i write stanzas of free-form poetry,
or when we’re apart
and i feel the heartbeat vibration
of my phone telling me it’s you texting me
little words of love
or collections of memes sent as a love language all its own
or getting ready for bedtime
in this house we’ve made a home
with our adorable little family
and the comfort of us
just being
[together]

i’m sentimental for you
in a way i never thought i’d be
and i must admit
i’m grateful for it,
my Kip.

April 2, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

connection
in this day and age
of high speed internet
and loudfast cars down the street
and split second decisions
is so rare

but somehow we found each other
and talking with you makes time stop
and we push each other to create a legacy
while still reminding each other to sit in the garden
for as long as the dog will allow us
and our skin on skin contact
is my favorite feeling
in the universe

so let’s continue this
for another five/ten years
because i was just treading water
before you came into my life

March 31, 2022

/ HJ / 1 Comment

Trans Day of Visibility.

i try to be so visible…

but my visibility often seems to negate my living experiences

(any time i wear the trans colors
i’m read as
only femme)

(and while i feel
not
the gender i was assigned at birth,
my taste often finds itself
aligning
with what my assigned gender
is ‘supposed to’ like)

(but i’m not just gay
as in happy
[though often i have this
demeanor]
i’m also queer
as in fuck the system,
as in i will always stand up for those with less power,
as in my entire identity will always be a political statement
because much of it is often politicized without my consent,
and i know of others with intersecting identities
on top of the identity[ies] we share
who will never be out of the line of fire from politicians
trying to gain power
over others)

so i’ll stand up
tall
(as my barely over five-foot-frame will let me)
and proud
of my trans identity,
my non-binary identity,
my queer-in-all-the-ways identity,
and tell everyone who will listen
‘yes, thank you for listening
to me,
an actual trans person,
but please
also listen
to those who fall under the binary umbrella
underneath the larger trans umbrella,
especially trans women,
and listen to those who fall under other marginalized identities,
listen to Black trans folks,
listen to Indigenous trans folks [Indigenous two-spirit people],
listen to trans people of color
listen to those folks of color with darker skin,
listen to trans people with disabilities
listen to trans people who aren’t neurotypical
listen to trans people who aren’t from your country,
listen to trans people who don’t look anything like you,
listen to trans folks who make you feel uncomfortable with your privilege
listen to trans folks who fight the system that was built to tear them down.

and honestly,
if you listen to those folks first
(which i encourage you to do)
and you have a lot of introspection to do
and you don’t have the time
or energy
or capacity
to listen to my words
afterwards,

i’d much prefer that.

listen to trans folks with less privilege than myself
expand your knowledge
first.

(maybe we’ll see each other in the metaphorical
‘audience’
and wave ‘hi!’)

March 17, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

my sense of self
has never grown
past the age of the trauma

and while i’ve continued to wade through
life
and experiences
past eleven years old,
the photographic evidence proves nothing.
as that isn’t me.
can’t be.

maybe that’s why it felt so good
to change my appearance
so drastically;

the old ‘look’ was simply a shadow
of who i imagined i was,
a poorly made copy
adding weight
and height
and unnecessary curves
and worry in the heart and mind

but maybe this me
recreated like a phoenix from the ashes
of who i thought i’d be
can be the one who finally
stands in front of the small
blonde
little [girl]
in a frilly dress
and skinned knees,
and they can look this
non-binary adult
with rainbow hair
and gender-euphoria pants
and at last say
with confidence
and ownership
and love
“that’s me!”

January 8, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

too tired to write anything
of substance
too word-play-y
to not,
stuck in a limbo
of will i won’t i
(a new take on ‘will they won’t they’)
(get it, cuz i’m nonbinary and use they/them pronouns)

listening to music from the
‘Roaring 20’s’
so what are we?
‘The Coughing 20’s’?
‘The Dying 20’s’?
‘The Denying and Closing our Eyes and Covering our Ears and Screaming “[B]LA[B]LA[B]LA”
Over All the Signs
and Words of Learned Folks
and Science
20’s’?

i wish i had the compassion of
Amanda Gorman
the faith in people of
Anne Frank
the calmness and knowledge and belief
of so many
but i am caught between
i want to see the good
and
i can only see the bad
played
over
and
over
and
over
again
behind my eyelids
every time they close
(and most of the time while they’re open,
too)

i know i’m doing little
to halt/hold/stop the division
of one side
‘gainst the other,
but it’s hard to listen to folks
who’d never listen to me
were i to show them my true self,
who argue that folks like me
are a disease unto society
and deserve the worst of death.
if you can’t look at me like a human
then why should i listen to you
like your opinions have any say
in my living my own life
in my own honest way

(maybe this is why
it’s so important
to look inwards
for spirituality
as opposed to outwards)

but this poem
is kind of a mess,
but it is morning
so i can mull through
my thoughts of the day approaching
and get them all out of my fingertips
and onto this blank page/document/screen
for all to see
(or at least the six of you who usually read)
(hi, by the way)
and the poem doesn’t ~need~ to mean anything
it can just be,
a product of my brain,
my overthinking-
obsessive compulsive tendency-
pessimist in the body of an optimist-
-brain,
and leave it
for whomever may need it
(which might just be me
needing to get it out
in order to write
other things)

December 22, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the desire
to write;
it strikes!

~~~

shortest day of the year
is gone
it came and it went
(with such swiftness)
and now the days start to get longer
again,
and yet,
it starts here…

my slog
my sludge
my molasses of living
my fear
my anxiety
my processing darkness

why do the days feel so much darker
while they get brighter?

~~~

things that make me feel
exceptionally
more feminine:
roughed lips
curved hips
growing out the hair in my armpits.
things that make me feel
exceptionally
more masculine
tailored pants that somehow negate my curves
clenching my jaw until it changes the structure of my bones
imagining just the slightest bit of stubble on my chin
things that make me feel
exceptionally
non-binary:
just
being
me.

October 16, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

the trauma was not good;
no amount of “things happen for a reason” will change that,
it was unfair, unfathomable, wildly wrong.
but how i choose to deal with the trauma,
how i have survived thus far,
and how i choose to keep on going,
that is where the beauty lies.

and i can adjust my own coping mechanisms;
make them healthier, make them stronger,
for nothing is truly “good” or “bad”
“positive” or “negative”
but there are healthier and not so healthy,
things that help me access my emotions
and perform acting in a real, vulnerable, and honest way,
and that is how i choose to keep going
(start going? this is technically all new to me…)

and, similarly,
there is no “recovered” vs. “not recovered”
there is in recovery and the levels therein.
but one level does not disappear once you move on to the next
they are uneven steps existing in a labyrinth
that sometimes require backtracking to continue on.
and if i can look at my own mental health
in a way
that is
Non-Binary
(just like me!)
then maybe,
just maybe,
i can make friends with my trauma
(and how i felt it initially/since)
and understand a little bit more about me
in the aftermath…