V's Version

No it's blue

Seriously I swear

No I saw it

For real

It's blue

.

It's like coming into the middle of a conversation

Feeling like there's a lot that needs to be said

But what's already been said?

And who did the saying?

I want to know who's talking

I want to know who gets to be the speaker

Who decided I was blue?



I was 1

Full head of hair

Is that your son there?

No, it's my daughter

Even dressed in pink

I was still called blue



I was 3

It was some ridiculous, birthday, holiday, anniversary

I was dressed up in all my misery

Even at three

I knew dresses were not for me

I was dressed in ruffles

Yellow and pink

But I still had a blue ribbon

Even dressed in pink dress

I was still blue jeans



I was 5

We were playing behind the fence line

The boys were skins

I was shirts

I was sure my shirt was given at birth

So I changed my skirt

And lost the shirt

And even undressed

I was still called blue



I was 8

He was 60

He told me I was pretty

I was dressed in blue jeans and cowboy t-shirt

And for the first time

I was dressed in blue

And used

Like pink



I was 13

I was dressed in all black

Heavy military jackets covered hunched shoulders that covered breasts protected by three layers of shirts

My hands and head were the only color they ever saw of me

But I don't think I was blue



I was 14

My pants were long and ripped

My legs were fuzzy and thick

My steps were small

And my shoulders were arched forward

My voice was low and quiet

My hair long

Trying hard to be pink

I found a book in the back corner of the library

The title:

Am I blue?



I was 16

She was pink

We locked lips

And in first kiss

We became stained with each other

Even with the stain of pink I was still blue



I was 18

Pink was fading

I was vibrant

I changed color as my hair hit the floor

My shoulders rolled back

My step gained speed

I was the real me

All pink and blue



I was 22

My eye was black

My lips red

Knuckles purple

Skin stained orange and yellow

My face was green

And I was more than blue

I was Indigo and violet

Violent transformation

From pink

To rainbow manifestation

Of blue

Black and blue I passed through 22



I am 24

My shoulders are wide

My step is long and slow

My eyes are soft

My smile is easy

My touch is gentle

My black has faded

My pink is mine



And no one gets to decide

If I am blue



I get to do the speaking

And I am more than blue or pink or brown

More than violet or indigo

More than black and red

More than green and orange and yellow



It's like coming in to the middle of the conversation

Having the whole room stop talking

Look at you and wonder

What more can be said



Now that I'm free to do the talking

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SSShhhhhhh
She's coming
Can you see her?
No, get down she's gonna see you!

We were peeking in the windows of neighbors
Who's years had collected as wrinkles and ailments
She was the witch and we were
Those kids
Those rotten kids these days kinda kids
Grown up without manners and respect
Without regard for petunias planted precisely
Or suits ties and dresses sitting quietly and hands folded nicely
Across still and quiet laps
We were those darn kids kinda kids
Peeking and peering into windows
To see what age would bring us

We were sticky and 5
Sweating inside my mask I could taste my own courage
It was running down the back of my neck
and in the back of my mind were all the ways I'd be fine

He was 7
2 years older than me
But at 5 2 years is a life time
He was dangling precariously from a branch
I watched as his knuckles turned white
And his face twisted and his pink tongue
Slipped out from his mouth as he stretched all of him
To reach the water
I burst into bellows an eruption of loud bold laughter
He stood dripping and frowning
Jack had fallen down and broken his crown
And Jill hit the ground running

His legs were longer than mine
And he caught me without trying
Laying pinned under his ego
Trapped by his reclamation
I realized it was always going to be this way
He was always going to be taller
Always going to stronger
Always going to be faster, and braver
But even superman had his kryptonite
And I realized I was ok with always being smarter

We were the perfect team
He was the muscle I was the brains
And we were action packed superhero's
We were 5 and sticky
Sweating and huffing behind masks that gave us the anonymity
To forget we were just little sweaty bodies
We were transformed into righteous and courageous
Crime fighting comical marvels
Fighting evil and restoring peace to war torn G.I. Joe camps
Rescuing Barbie damsels in distress
Saving papa smurf from the evil transformers
We were Michelangelo and Donatello
Karate kids on a mission to exterminate
Broccoli tree meals and slimy spinach side dishes
We were fierce radicals fighting for bedtime justice
He was batman and I was robin
The green goblin didn't stand a chance
We stood vigilant over armies of green plastic swarms at battle
And he never sunk my battleship
Without losing at least three rounds and saying sorry

We were best friends
In fact we were like brothers
Until that day came
When he said you show me yours and I'll show you mine
Thinking the whole time we were the same kind
Ok but you go first
I saw first I wasn't like him
I was like she but that couldn't be the me I was gonna be
I was supposed to be just like he

Time crept up on my little boy body
Chemicals pulsed and churned in organs set to set me straight
My gate changed pace
I was not much more than stubby and awkward
I hunched my back and arched forward
To cover the bumps that built on my front
My thighs slid onto the counter and mom stood in front of me
Honey you know your body is changing
And your hormones rearranging
There were no birds and bees in my garden
I was standing in a forest fire
Paradise lit a flame
And the red was dripping between my legs
I wasn't meant to be this body
I want my little boy body to be like his mommy
But it was too late
I rearranged my body to cover the bumps and dips
I was not going to be thighs and hips

Can you see her?
I see them all staring
Glaring at me over the edge of a bathroom stall
I was peeing but they were seeing what of the myth was true
I still sit to piss
I hear them hiss and huff
Puffing out liquid long high judgment laced giggles.
I was trapped
The stall was the tomb in which my inncocence was laid to rest
I left my voice drowning in my sorrow and with the tip of the handle
I slid back the lock and stepped out staring straight ahead
They circled and finally I was convinced this blood
Would always draw the fangs and primitive sense of smell
That seeks out the week and wounded
My ego was cut and bruised and no more than black and blue
Every one of those girls knew as she lifted my shirt
And flicked at my hair
I wrapped my arms around my belly like I could hold the last bits
Of masked sticky sweaty courage close to my belly
But I knew as my first tear hit floor
The only things I would dripping this day
Was fear.

I rubbed at my salt stained cheeks
Tried hard to wipe away the fury buried in clogged pores
Hair muggy with insecurity
Fingernails trapping dirt from every trip to the floor
I was clawing and scratching at my chest
Ripping away at flesh that was never meant
To grow that way
I lay on the floor of the bathroom wondering what would hurt more
Another day in the world as a little girl
Or the bottle that says don't take more than four
Before 8 I was in violation
Dripping contradiction
My anatomy and my consciousness playing paper, rock, scissors
I lay on the bathroom floor and wonder
Will I ever be pretty?

I grew into a body foreign to my minds eye
And no matter how hard I tried
I would never be the little boy body I loved
I looked out into a world full of boys and girls
And wondered what the world does with the goys and birls
I can't be the only one trapped in between longing for a clean breath
Clarity wasn't even present on me
I wasn't dark enough to be brown
Not light enough to white
Not girl enough to be pretty
And not boy enough to be right
I was walking in a body heavy with contradiction
Like I was carrying the weight of generations of unknowns
Unnamed cackling and cowering witches burned at stakes
For differences the holy named god's mistakes
I was dripping with the tears shed from legacies of torture and ridicule
Limping with the growing pains of bodies grown to believe they were deformations
Sinking and heaving under the wait of slurs thrown in gasps
As women walk in spaces and name me by where they think I'm not supposed to be
Skin bruising from the swings of justice hammers fallen across my womb

Your lineage of misunderstanding and naiveté
Have left me heavy and scarred
I won't bear the weight of your education on my already war torn heart
And just when I come up for breath
Tall enough to stand on my knees and at least
Feel the breeze on my sticky red cheeks
A box hits me right in the middle of the head

It was pink
Its contents brought me right back to the stall
The eyes of high school girls electrified with the idea
That they had every right to watch me
I was no more than a sci-fi movie
This box brought me right back to my stall
I stood helpless a welt forming on my forehead
And I looked down at the dented package laying at my feet
It was a box of tampons
I looked up in complete disbelief
First thinking who in their right mind throws a box of tampons?
Then I saw her face reflected in the mirror lit up in her vengeful violation
What the fuck are you doing in here
She left every word dripping with hate
What kind of woman are you?
Not woman enough for those I bet
Her cackle was loud and boisterous
She was out for blood and once again I had called the fangs

I looked to the mirror and saw in my eyes
The best of both worlds
I was strong enough to fight and brave enough to cry
I was all done with my mask
My courage was vocalized in my eyes
What I once held as my curse
Had become the thing I would put first
I stepped out of that room with one more bruise
And an understanding that I was put here with a purpose I had to use
I was blessed with contradiction and a voice to educate
I can bare your cross and carry the weight

I look back to myself sticky and 5
Face covered with a mask
Tongues covered in salt from sweat dripped with purpose
I remember being a boy
And I remember being a girl
Peeking and peering into windows to see what old would look like
Dangling from a tree and falling hard
Laughing loud and running fast
I was a superhero and so was he
I never forgot about my best friend and us as a we
I was always looking for the super hero I could be

And I think I may have found it
Cause that little boy is still me
And I won't wear a mask
Or cover me with capes
I'll stand up like a big boi does
Face forward like a big girl does
And I know just what super hero I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the Gender Transcender Protector and defender of all the he-she's
Cause little bois and girls need to know
There's a whole lots of ways to be he's and she's
I hope they grow up with heroes like me
And maybe we'll have generations of
Gender Transcenders
Protectors and defenders of all the he-she's.

Imagine what a world that would be…

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------





Singing along with the sing song of songs not yet gone from my palms


Hands outstretched to sky like I could grab every star that shot by


Michigan dirt still clings to my skin where dirt left the earth and leapt to my thin layers when Michigan storms rolled in

Thin skin keeps soul embodied

My spirit took journeys in fields untamed left ablaze

From trails blazed

In days and nights left starry eyed from conversation

Where eyes never left the skies

And souls were doing fly by's

Procrastinating good byes



Feet stained with the memory of cool grass and slow wet winds blowing lazy in the trees

The green leafs upturned for a chance to catch a glance of a passing breeze

Flirting and twisting and dancing among trees whose leafs have given shade to

Revolutionary conversation



And lovers kissing

And the tears of those missing those missed

And first reach of roots grown new

And drops falling heavy with winter



Or light with the promise of spring

Branches that span histories of growth

And rebirth

And revision

And provision


Trunk sturdy against the blast of Michigan thunder


And the strike of brilliant bold blazing lightening


And supporting the backs of weary mothers


And lending footing for curious children


And home for critters whose paws have crossed paths with toes and claws


Sharing comfort under the same blanket of stars that wrap the roots of trees who guard our histories and envelop them in the safe and sleepy Michigan nights

I let my toes escape from my shoes

Dig my skin and tendons and knuckles and digits and nails and balls and heels and arches into the earth

Hope to grow roots that stretch far from my coast into the well spring that brings life to the trees that sheltered me on my long walks through the woods



Woods that left my sight altered and my mind stretched

Woods that kept me solid in my solitude

Woods that provided sanctuary

Woods that tamed and calmed my restless spirit

Woods that left me grounded



My skin meets the earth and longs for Michigan dirt

Longs for long days

Long walks

Long conversations

Long reasons for longing for



Belonging



I find Michigan in my shoes, in my clothes, in my pages and bags

I find remnants of conversations and connections scribbled on scrap paper tucked into dirty pockets

I find the smell still fresh in my pillow

I find the physical manifestations of dirt traveled thousands of miles to land on my home floor



But I find home in my step

I find it in the salt of my tears inspired by campfire connections

In the memory of women who passed a torch to me

To carry a legacy

Of female masculinity

In the energy I step with

The power I speak with

The solidarity I stand in

The community I came from

The strength I witnessed in women in concentrated population

The vulnerability I have become powerful enough to embrace

The spirituality I breathe

The words I sip on let slip like gifts wrapped perfect with the dressings of change and revolution and song and movement and power and determination and expression and love and freedom and peace and spirit and energy and unstoppable force



The force of freedom fighters at prayer in the morning dew



The violence of rebellious hugs and kisses of lovers and friends shattering and splintering the divisive and aggressive manipulation of separation built around our bodies



The gates that keep others passing upon our backs as though we were the bridges to wars and violence and hate and anger and danger



They walk along our backs as our bodies are used and left limp and bruised upon the earth

We became the road they drove



Bruised and battered bodies rise



And link and connect



Holding

Nurturing

Supporting

Caring

Providing



We rise



Building

Pushing

Connecting

Pulling

Moving

Constructing


We rise



Singing

Dancing

Chanting

Flowing

Speaking



We rise



Hugging

Kissing

Loving

Touching

Fucking



We rise



Laughing

Crying

Smiling

Screaming

Vocalizing



We rise



We are no longer the stepping stones in a path

Our hips and thighs and breasts

Will not be the bumps and dips in a rode driven hard

The nicks and cuts and scrapes and bruises and breaks and kinks

Are a history written into our flesh

And collective scars and stretches and tears and deformations

Of bodies pulled and pushed and battered

Is not only her story

It's herstory

Retold in the exhale of our collective sigh

When we rise

And become the bridge for freedom fighters to move



The bridge for love



For peace



For support



For power



For strength



For birth



For rebirth



For revival



For ritual



For purpose



For spirit



For language



We rise and our backs are reclaimed



You will not walk upon my back

Or the back of those held back



We are a bridge



And have built our track

Our history will be written

And her story will be told

And herstory will be heard


This is my revolution song


For every warrior


For every freedom fighter


For every resistor


For every sister


This is my revolution song



And the sing song of our sing along of songs not yet gone from our palms

Are the lyrics to our breathing revolution song



This revolution song


Is longer than 1 revolution long


We will spin and sing


Until every warrior returns home


This is my revolution song


I am more than 1 revolution strong.

How is is that I have missed Jonathan Harris' We Feel Fine project? Maybe because I'm in my 40s and most of the bloggers in this world are under 30.

Whatever the reason - I know about it now. and within a couple of clicks - I have found fascinating, horrible, inspiring and mundane lives.

This blows my mind. The internet blows my mind.

Like this Yarn Wrangler . There are so many stories - and so little time~!

I am off to a writing class / cancer support group.

Tomorrow is my birthday!



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