Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: I try not to obsess over first impressions. I try not to impress at all. I try to keep it professional. I try to keep it casual. I try to keep myself behind my hair, behind a too big sweater, behind stacks of books. I’ll try to follow your lead.
Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: I try to steady myself. I try to shake the habit of hunching my shoulders in on myself. I try to strengthen the limp of my wrists you felt the need to point out. I try to nail my wrists down under my thighs when I talk. I try to inject a version of strength into this broken body that will make sense to you. I try to keep myself at bay.
Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: I’m laughing too loud. I’m smiling too big. I pitch my voice up an octave: my throat will be raw by the end of this conversation.
Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: It’s best in the face of verbal abuse by peers to not react at all. Do not let any emotion reach your face. In the days that follow do not grin, do not make eye contact, do not weep. I pitch my voice down an octave: my throat will be raw in the morning.
Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: I read somewhere that people like me fail at womanhood no matter what we do. Maybe that’s why I stopped trying. Maybe that’s why it always felt like an ill fitting suit. I read somewhere that really people like me fail at manhood no matter what we do. Maybe that’s why I stopped trying. Maybe that’s why it always felt like an ill fitting suit.
Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: I heard somewhere that I was a priss, that I was a dyke, that I was fruity, a faggot, a freak, a lesbo, a crossdresser, a tranny. I heard somewhere that my body was a laughing stock, a heretical practice in mutilation, a walking time bomb of regret, a modern day hysteria.
Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: I hope I can fail to meet your expectations.
Q: Are you a man or a woman?
A: I can’t help but hold all these people within me.