to the dozens of people who stared at my crotch all day,
pointing and laughing
i wanted to tell you how familiar i am with this scenario:
your eyes,
my body.
your finger,
my gender.
sometimes i wonder if i would have a body if you didn’t want something to look at.
like when the doctor looked between my legs and said this is what i know (gender)
like when the lover looked between my legs and said this is what i want (gender)
there is a history to this.
if you think that i am strange and terrifying
i want you instead to consider
how frightening a world is
that encourages hundreds of thousands of people to
scrutinize my genitalia,
make a spectator sport out of it.
there is a history to this.
25 years ago a “doctor”
told my mother i was a “boy”
because i had a “penis”
because some other man told him that he was a “scientist”
and he misheard, called himself “god.”
but what he forgot to tell her is
he put a mirror between my legs.
and people have been looking at themselves
through me
ever since.
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